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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22429150">Nine Legacies: The Balefire Rekindled</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarmotrineDream/pseuds/KarmotrineDream'>KarmotrineDream</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Nine Legacies [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Little Witch Academia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Tragedy, Antagonist POV, Cosmic Horror Elements, Cryptids, F/F, Found Family, Gen, Horror Elements, Inspired by Castlevania, Major Character Injury, Monster Hunters, Multi, Novel, Nuerodivergent Character(s), OC Expanded Lore/Setting, POV Third Person Omniscient, Slow Burn, Trans Character, Vampires, Wordcount: Over 100.000, Wordcount: Over 150.000, mythological creatures, reference to alcoholism, reference to trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 08:14:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>764,721</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22429150</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarmotrineDream/pseuds/KarmotrineDream</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Magic’s resurgence has changed almost every aspect of life. The “mundane” world cannot deny magic’s existence, and is both fearful and all too curious about its capabilities. Despite public and private pushback against the forces of Olde and Arcane, society must come to accept the presence of Fae and other magical phenomena as something “normal,” just as it did during the golden age of magic. But with the benefits of magic’s return comes the many horrors fueled by it: Vengeful dead have begun to rise, monsters stalk the lands, and legends of old reveal their long denied truths to the “modern” world. Luna Nova itself faces one these emboldened threats now, as a shadowy coven that has plagued the legacies left behind by The Nine Old Witches for centuries plots their destruction yet again. The New Nine and their companions stand firm against the darkness, but it will be the dare-devil firebrand Amanda O'Neill, and the reserved and calculating Constanze Amalie Von Braunschbank-Albrechtsberger who must first answer the call of Olde Legacies. When fate calls them to action, they waste no time in taking  up the torch, and light Luna Nova’s way to a brighter tomorrow.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Constanze Amalie von Braunschbank Albrechtsberger/Sucy Manbavaran, Diana Cavendish/Atsuko "Akko" Kagari, Hannah England/Amanda O'Neill/Barbara Parker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Nine Legacies [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943356</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Wayward Witches</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>First of all, big shout out to R5h! They also write LWA fanfics and I wholly recommend you go check them out. Without them, this fic would likely be a lot worse, they were a great help with editing and cleaning it all up. That said, this fic is my first ever work in the realm of fanfiction, let alone LWA related content. I was inspired by Castlevania when writing and planning out this whole fic, and that'll become more clear as it progresses. I plan for this to be a bit of a longer one, and have the whole series of events and content planned, and will be posting as said content gets transcribed into something enjoyable to read! I also plan for this to be the beginning of a series of connected fics in the distant future, so events and details from this 'timeline' will be pertinent throughout. Finally, I take liberties in fleshing out details in the universe not described in the source material, including mention of various covens, historical/current events, organizations, monsters, and the nature/origin of magic. Not all of what I've listed will be fully described in depth of course, but rather I'm playing by my own rules given the show was never focused on being heavy with the world-building. If you have any suggestions or comments to make, it's all very much appreciated! Without further explanation, enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“And you’re certain this is not some petty trick? Long enough have we been vexed by their kind to trust one word of their lie-ridden pacts and promises.” Venom dripped from the gruff, but baroquely dignified voice that broke the silent darkness of the ruined country-house; Hours had gone by before the grievance was aired, but it had been well on the mind of all present. The wood of the foundation ached as the once painfully still atmosphere broke down.</p><p> </p><p>A similar noble tone retorted from the unseen crowd of lesser aristocrats in the shadows of the estate: “I sense little on the wind… All is quiet, save us. We’ve nothing to fear. If they betray us, so be it; They cannot hope to best us all.”</p><p> </p><p>Another continued the sentiment, “I pray they think themselves so cunning; their blood will please our lady well.” </p><p> </p><p>A few grunts and hums of agreement rumbled about the shaded aristocrats, when a youngling of the brood voiced their desires. “T’would be so troublesome to carry them alive to her Majesty though... Best not to waste the opportunity and simply drain them here. There’s enough to go around I’m sure.”</p><p><br/>The most displeased among them, he who had first voiced the shared concern of the many, spat in disgust at the notion. “You forget your place, stripling! Without her you are nothing, and as such, you will render unto her what she deserves. I will suffer no <em>lapses in decorum</em> during this affair, or I shall see your shoulders relieved of the empty vessel that sits atop them!”</p><p> </p><p>With this declaration, any whispers of shared agreement with the ‘stripling’ quickly died out. With a deathly stare pointed toward the initial offender who spoke out of turn, the surrounding vampires urged them to make amends through shoves, pushing them forth. Hushed reminders of the price to be paid for even hinting at taking action which could be construed as seditious sank their long still heart. “B-But of course, Lord Zrinski. I’d never think to knowingly disrespect her grace! It was absent minded selfishness that spurred the suggestion, nothing more! You know of course how hunger clouds the vision of weaker ones such as I.” Excuses and self deprications were standard fair when challenged by a clear superior of the brood, with the offending party now beginning to prostrate themselves. </p><p> </p><p>Another voice interjected and stepped between the half kneeling broodling and the more heavily armored and armed lord. The womans’ words were preceded with controlled chuckles, and her tone made it clear she was borne of great self importance, even when compared to the other noble-like beings present. “Oh get up Marcell. You look even more pathetic than usual, and we’ve hardly the time to stroke one another's ego.” In a billowing dress of crimson and white, the intervening lady spun deftly to face Lord Zrinski. “Nikolai, dear brother of mine, you lose your temper all too quickly.” The sound of her approach across the cobwebbed and otherwise dusty room was marked by the clacking of her heels and the groans of the wood beneath. A hand fell upon Nikolai’s shoulder, and the woman continued to speak more broadly. “I can assure you, all of you, that I’ve arranged this meeting all in assurance that it will serve us well. There’ll be no need to draw blades or bare fangs tonight.” Her attention turned more directly back to Nikolai. “And for one to make a point of not appearing rude to our guests, you should be sure to remember as Her most beloved offspring, we need to set a good example, correct? A resigned sigh escaped Nikolai’s lips. There was no use arguing for his sister had the right of it, and so he channeled his anger and excess energy into incessant pacing.</p><p> </p><p>Again, all was calm for a brief spell, when the wind howled unnaturally through the abandoned structure. None of the brood present were magically inclined, but as beings of the night, there was no mistaking the shift in the atmosphere; Something wicked this way came, between warped oak and pine and over the dying earth as winter began to take hold over the land once again. With this ill wind came a slamming door, but no sooner did it close did its rusty handles turn delicately, and yawned wide once more. In the previously empty frame, two cloaked figures became clear in the moonlight, and the brood’s crimson eyes were upon them expectantly. Like crones of myth, the new arrivals cackled and chuckled before they began to speak, both sharing a very similar voice, and a penchant for finishing each other's thoughts.</p><p> </p><p>In unison they began, “A gathering most garish!” Their jest was ill received, and the leftmost crone continued, the other picking up her statements without missing a beat. “Have we under-dressed,” “For this most auspicious encounter?” And then together, “Lady Nádasdy?”</p><p> </p><p>The addressed Lady, sister to Nikolai, stepped forth. She daintily pushed past the ‘rabble’ and her lesser siblings. “Please, Katalin will do just fine. The trappings of nobility are merely a… heartfelt reminder of what power we used to hold.”</p><p> </p><p>Nikolai interrupted her train of thought with his own sentiment, “Power we will hold again soon, if your initial offers were more than just lures and empty promises.” Katalin cleared her throat annoyedly at her elder sibling. A squinting glare reminded Nikolai that his place was not at the negotiating table. Rolling eyes and crossed arms left Nikolai postured as a watchdog over the rest of the proceedings.</p><p><br/>“As I was saying, there is little need to lose ourselves in noble frivolity. We’ve business to discuss.” An open palm extended, and held outward toward the crones accompanied Katalin’s devilishly inviting gaze. “You approached me with a promise of power, in exchange for services rendered. You’ve a task you cannot complete by your hand, and so you look to us, yes?”</p><p><br/>The witch-twins concurred, “Most certainly, t’is shamefully ironic.” “Truly agonizing!” “That we cannot see to our own vengeance, but such is fate.” This earns a chuckle from them both, an inside joke as they enter the room proper, and raise their shadowed heads just enough that their visages become somewhat visible. They are scarred symmetrically, wounded and abused beyond the good reason of modern and ancient torturers alike, but what could be considered the shape of a face remains: two eyes, a mouth, and a place where a nose used to be. Their skin is a simple pale shade, much like the blood-suckers in their midst, and their eyes remain unwavering, never blinking. </p><p> </p><p>“And to what end do your pursuits concern me and my kin? Our mother is quite careful in whom she allies herself with, now that she is free once again.”</p><p> </p><p>The scarred crones guffaw at this statement. “Free? Of her tomb perhaps!” “Corpselike, to what was her throne you have bound her!” “Keeping her fragile form alive on little,” “Save the scraps of strangers you’ve plucked from the countryside.” This earned the two witches a good deal of retorts and insults hurled their way by the various night-stalkers that lurked in the room. </p><p> </p><p>Turning about to and through, Katalin tried to allay the frustrations and anger of her brood. As vampires of old wealth and nobility, their pride was easily wounded, and though Katalin and her eldest brother were most clairvoyant and clear minded by comparison, words alone did little to talk down her jeering lessers. Where Katalins more diplomatic approach to regaining control of the situation failed, Nikolai simply seized it by force. With a heavy blade in  hand, an old lamp nearby was rendered splinters, and a fresh wound in the wall was made where the claymore landed and was firmly lodged. Several nearby nobles scattered as the strike came through, narrowly dodging the blow. With little effort, the blade was wretched free, and the crowd fell silent. “Continue as you are at your peril, hags. My patience wears ever thinner! And as for you all...” Nikolai’s sword was pointed outward over the room, guided from left to right, glimmering faintly in what moonlight did creep into the manor. </p><p> </p><p>Pinching the bridge of her nose with an upturned look, Katalin did her best to return to her refined and inviting tone and posture. Her voice faltered just briefly enough for her skin-deep rage at the outburst to be well known. “Nikolai. What did I say about fangs and blades during the negotiations?” Where her brother had sincere desire to retort and argue the issue further, he was well aware that this was neither the time nor place for it. His blade sheathed with an audible clack, and a nod deferred to Katalin bade her to continue. The crones meanwhile hardly seemed phased by any of the events witnessed. They were eerily still and staring, just as they had upon arrival. “So you know then that we ourselves are both indisposed and untrusting of outsiders. Why do you think we’d have an interest in agreeing to any demand or treaty of yours?” </p><p> </p><p>The question earned a few hushed approvals from the others before the crones could respond. In unison they spoke, “Witches spelt your bloodline’s doom; Witches then shall feed your centuries cultivated hunger! Doom and death had they wrought on us well, so as birds of a feather, we seek to flock with you! Power and legions we can offer unto thee, should you agree, that most beneficial it would be for your lady to be full in the flesh once more, drunk on the blood of young virgin women as she was so many years ago!” A pause broke up their dirge like speaking, and knowing eyes accompany silvery-serpent-tongued smiles. They take turns to vocalize then, “The blood of hundreds of witches no less,” “Shall bring her,” “And by extension all of you,” And then together, “Power overwhelming!” </p><p> </p><p>The wind moaned its displeasure once more at the powers that had gathered there. Nascent magic, disturbed by the dark witches’ very presence, stirred like malcontent fly-swarms in a swampy summer’s heat. It billowed their cloaks, but revealed nothing of their figures beneath where strangely colored light and smoke formed an unnatural aurora. Some of the vampires shrunk away or hiss aggressively at that supposed display of power. The two crone-twins made one final series of statements before acquiescing, “And we know well you hold tight to the convictions of vengeance…. Imprisoned and deprived so many years ago your lady was;” “In part by a family of witches whom we know well the location of.”</p><p> </p><p>Murmurs rumbled throughout the crowd, until Nikolai growled in realization. “The Von Braunchsbanks.” His statement left the crowd of lesser vampires bellowing insults, ancient curses, and calls for death on the aforementioned bloodline. Only with Katalin’s silent raised claw did order return to the court. </p><p> </p><p>With a pair of raised wands from their shadowy cloaks, the crones gave the magical mist about them shape, and displayed a quaint town in a distant land. “For who are we to beseech aid in a quest for vengeance if we are not willing to aid another in kind…?” “Our power and tools, rendered unto thee,” “May be used as you please.” Finally, as one, the witches bowed out with one last condition. “So long as Luna Nova is left as ash!” The illusion dispersed and shifted, showing then the academy the crones spoke of.</p><p> </p><p>Katalin maintained her calm smile and inquisitive stare, even as her kin recoiled, save for Nikolai.  “If you speak true…. Then we’ve no need for further to negotiate further. Our mother will no doubt accept this alliance. But only if you show us well this power you claim to have, then we—”<br/><br/></p><p>“May have a deal?” The crones finish the leading lady’s statement, to which she chuckles weakly.</p><p><br/>“We shall see.”</p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>The steady hum of Amanda’s motorbike died out at the turn of a key. Worn dark brown  boots flipped the kickstand up and set the vehicle right and steady, while she unsaddled herself.</p><p> </p><p>Blytonbury was just fine this time of year, just like it was every time of year. Sure the winter cold had begun to set in, but cozy cabins and cottages ensured everyone had a fine hearth to relax by. Hot drinks flew off the counters at various cafes and markets as the townsfolk, all bushy tailed and bundled up for the morning duties, went about business. Inhaling familiar scents of the quaint little English town, both real and imagined, Amanda removed her helmet with closed eyes and a satisfied smile. She was home. The only place she could ever think of as home, and even then, it could never keep her for very long anymore. </p><p> </p><p>Her obligatory biker’s jacket sported a few personal touches, patches on the sleeves from various places around Europe and North Africa that she’d visited in the past three years since her expulsion. It hadn’t been her first time back in Blytonbury in those three years, but her visits were always a bit too short for what her friends would like, especially Hannah and Barbara. Those two lovebirds were always keen on making Amanda miss them so much she’d come running back eventually, and usually it worked. She couldn’t complain: having two people that loved her so, despite distance and time away, always comforted her on quiet days out and about. She may have been a free spirit, but with ties like she had with her two loves and many friends, it was hard for her to claim she didn’t have a home.</p><p> </p><p>A few familiar local faces caught on to Amanda’s arrival, recognizing that flamingo-coloured-do anywhere (helmet hair aside.) The retired and diminutive mayor, less grouchy now that he no longer had to worry about official duties, was much more welcome to seeing the troublemaking firebrand about town. She usually drummed up some interesting events just when things started to feel all too samey. He gave a spirited wave from the bakery alongside a few other elders and friendly townsfolk, and Amanda returned the greeting in kind.<br/><br/></p><p>“Oi! O'Neill! Did you bring any new souvenirs this time around?”</p><p> </p><p>“Trophies maybe? We got plenty of room on the pub wall to hang some of ‘em up!” Mrs. Berry, a local teacher, and Mr. ‘Davey’ King, the pub owner, called out. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda, setting her helmet aside as she did a once over on her ride, called back, “Not this time I’m afraid! Slim pickings out there this season.” After ruffling her hair into something more akin to her usual style, Amanda crossed over to them and continued. “Just a few restless fae playing tricks and messing about in France. Annoying as all hell but surprisingly nice hosts. Kept me well fed and well housed for a good month or two, so long as I went along with their games and told them about how the world had changed while they were cut off.”<br/><br/>A younger lady snorted at the mention of fae tricksters, “You should have seen the sprites that infested Russels’ little magic shop then! Had him pulling his hair out for a whole week playin’ silly buggers with him and his stock! It was a riot!” The rest of the group giggled in agreement.</p><p> </p><p>The ex-mayor piped up. “Oh, now don’t be talkin’ too loud on that business. Russels still sore about what they did to his hair, won’t ever live it down I imagine!” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda stifled a laugh with a hand over her mouth, recomposing herself before speaking “I’ll make sure not to mention too much of it around him… At least until I get him a bit tipsy. Heh... But I shouldn’t stay and gossip too much. You know Nelson will tear me a new one if I keep her waiting long.” </p><p> </p><p>Mrs. Berry remarked, “Once a drill sergeant, always a drill sergeant, that one. Tell’er I said hi, and that if she wants me to bake the Broom-Racin’ team another round of postseason goodies, all she needs do is ask!”</p><p> </p><p>In parting, Amanda gave a wink and thumbs up. “Sure thing. Think I might swing by for some of your cooking myself, if Jas doesn’t stuff a whole years worth of her own cooking down my throat when I see her.” And so she was off and away with a wave, and the crowd of locals dispersed whilst returning the gesture. It was good to be back. </p><p> </p><p>Contented and cozy, both in body and mind, Amanda walked the streets with little rush. After a long broom ride up from France to the South-England shores, and the subsequent bike ride to town, Amanda could do with a bit of gallivanting. Memories filled these roads as much as the cobblestone did, and despite having only spent about two years at Luna Nova compared to the five her now graduating friends and ex-classmates had, this town meant just as much to her as it did to them. Familiar faces, but still relative strangers passed by and shared smiles and greeting nods with Amanda, as the natural rhythm of the town came to life and swept up the prodigal American witch into its beat.</p><p> </p><p>Only when Nelson came into view around a street-corner, sitting leisurely just outside a coffee house, did Amanda awaken from her would be trance and run forward across the road.</p><p><br/>“Oi, Nelson! Nelson!” she shouted heartily, ducking and weaving to avoid a pair of oncoming cyclists. While easily provoked, Amanda let their insults and idle swears brush right off as she focused fully on Nelson. The flight instructor shot her head around at the commotion, but recognized the voice that called her. When Amanda came into view, Nelson greeted her with a big dumb smile already plastered on her face. She rose with open arms and spoke with Amanda’s shared vigor. “O'Neill, you crazy bitch, come here!”</p><p> </p><p>The two shared a few moments’ long embrace, making sure to nearly crush the other with all their strength. It only ever occured to Amanda once or twice before, but Nelson had been something of a loving aunt to her where her blood family had failed to provide. They’d always been at odds at the academy, Nelson and Amanda, but it wasn’t for lack of compatibility. Nelson was a by the books ex-military pilot and officer from Minnesota, but she had a well kept secret of being a daredevil and speed junkie when she was a younger lady, even more so than Amanda. While Nelson was always the first to curtail Amanda's flight-class shenanigans, she was also the very first to ever actually teach Amanda how to pull off those tricks and stunts safely. It had been a bit of a ritual of theirs ever since Amanda was expelled; Nelson wrote to her knowing she had potential to make it pro as a broom-rider and stunt woman, and while Amanda was never one to head down that path in any official sense, Nelson also grew a bit bored of the rudimentary and by-the-books tutoring she had been rehearsing for years and years at Luna Nova.</p><p> </p><p>To her surprise, Amanda accepted the offer for a bit of learning here and there, and ended up making it a bi-yearly tradition. Better yet, Amanda was both the worst and best student. She talked back, she challenged Nelson, and Nelson welcomed the heated competition. Not enough flight . Amanda’s private lessons with Nelson were a breath of fresh air that revitalized the flight instructor’s love for the path she’d chosen in life. Those lessons turned a mentoring relationship into a warm one between good friends, one that’d certainly last just as it had for Amanda and her ex-classmates. </p><p> </p><p>When the two were satisfied with how long they’d tried to break the other’s back, they released one another and laughed jovially. “Strong a grip as ever O'neill. Good to see you back in this part of the world, and still in one piece.” Nelson spoke while stepping back to take her seat once more. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda rounded the table and replied, “You haven’t lost that strong arm of yours either, Nelson. And what’s this about ‘and still in one piece’ bullshit? You know nothing out there can handle the heat I bring!” Amanda took her seat with folded arms behind her head, and raised legs up on the counter.<br/><br/>Nelson swatted her legs down with a newspaper. It nearly sent Amanda's chair toppling over as Nelson laughed at her flailing and readjustments. “Startled by a middle aged professor eh? Yeah I’m really feeling the heat you’re bringing alright. ” Amanda swore under her breathe before childishly mimicking Nelsons statement. When Amanda was settled back in her seat, Nelson continued. “But honestly, Amanda, you worry me out there. Knowing the work you do; It’s hard to be sure you’ll come back to us all safe and sound. I got out of my wild and crazy phase lucky to still have all my fingers and toes, let alone not needing too much metal in my body to keep it together…. But you’re heading down a far more dangerous path.” Nelsons’ tone communicated genuine care and concern. Much like a mother, she was always worried knowing full well what dangers Amanda’s line of work might lead her to, but as a friend and confidant, Nelson knew better than to claim that another path in life would suit Amanda better; It wasn’t for Nelson to choose.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda could only respond in kind, though with a bit of rehearsed annoyance. This wouldn’t be the first or last time she’d have to have this kind of conversation.</p><p> </p><p>“More dangerous but more necessary. The world didn’t really ‘need’ dare-devil Nelson tearing up the skies like a bat out of hell, but the world <em> does </em> need witches and magically minded folks who can handle themselves in a scrap.” She leant forward over the table with folded arms and lowered her volume. “Think about it Nelson, this town sees more magical mishaps than a circus with a shitty magician. The people here are used to it. Everywhere else? Yeah I mean, ever since the incident with Croix no one really doubts magic exists anymore, but they don’t know what it looks like. Not every town’s blessed with havin’ a history of witches, and big cities are a nightmare and a half now to navigate. It’s one thing when an urban neighborhood has a rat problem, it’s another when a building almost goes up in smoke because a phoenix decided the vent-shafts on the roof were a cozy spot to re-birth itself, or whatever. True story! Everyone just thought the thing was someone’s escaped exotic bird!” Amanda reclined back in her seat and shrugged her shoulders. “You and the rest of the people at the academy haven’t really seen what I have out there. Things are just really different for most folks, and even more so now.” Amanda gestured nonchalantly to the newspaper Nelson had set aside. “You must be keeping up with news outside of local stuff right?” </p><p> </p><p>“Well, loosely, yes.” Nelson scoured her own memory of recent events, being stuck at the tip of her own tongue for much of anything relevant. “I think Finland's fully recognized Yeti’s as an endangered species; At least Lotte said something about that. Besides that..? Beats me. Hard to keep up with all that goes on around here on a daily basis, especially recently.” Nelson seemed a bit concerned toward the end of her last statement, but Amanda pushed past it and spoke up. </p><p> </p><p>“Check the web sometime. Yeah, yeah, I know Finnelan has gotten to be even more of a hardass on technology at the academy, but a crystal ball works just fine. Anyways, it’s wild out there. Some remote Greek village was basically held hostage when a Sphinx decided to try and maul anyone that entered without answering it’s stupid riddle. I’m just glad that got handled before I found out about it. Had to take a prolonged stay with some Fae in North France, and for as good of house guests as they were, their stupid pranks left me with more scars than I’d like. Oh and-”</p><p> </p><p>“New scars? Again? From what and where O'Neill? Thought I told you to play it safer next time!” Nelson sipped at her mug of black coffee, the drink matching her bitterness over Amanda’s mounting list of injuries. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda simply raised up two finger-guns and chortled. “That’s on a need to know basis. Only interested and lovely ladies need to know.” Her jokey-womanizing was met with the deepest of groans from Nelson who, were it not for the heat of her drink, would’ve thrown a bit of it Amanda’s way.<br/><br/></p><p>“Vulgar as ever, and dodging my questions like you dodged five speeding tickets getting here I’m sure.” </p><p> </p><p>“Uhhhh, and? Not my fault that mall-cop ass looking pig couldn’t keep up!”</p><p> </p><p>Nelson nearly spat her drink out at that. “What, you <em> actually </em> got in a chase with a traffic cop?! Oh my good god, Amanda O'Neill, you are too damn much sometimes, you know?” An accusing finger went Amandas way.</p><p> </p><p>“And yet you can’t get enough of my bullshit! C’mon don’t lie! Every time I’ve told you about some of my best escapades, you’re howling and laughing your ass off. And running a shitty traffic cop around is hardly as bad by comparison.” Where Amanda’s grin was nothing but prideful, Nelson held her face in her hands.  </p><p> </p><p>Meanwhile, a barista who had been quite enjoying this exchange decided it be best if she actually took Amanda’s order, and interjected. The brief respite let the two clear their throats and readjust before continuing. </p><p> </p><p>“Anyways.” Another sip of coffee went the way of the professor, along with a quick and resigned sigh. “Banter aside, I’m glad you’re back. Loathe it or love it, you’re kinda work skills could be helpful. Luna Nova’s been experiencing some strange events recently.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda cocked her head and spoke plainly. “Strange like, more than usual?” </p><p> </p><p>“Definitely, and devious as well... Usually it’s mostly gaffs we can all laugh about afterwards, with the occasional massive blunder here and there. This case is a bit different sadly.” Nelson looked into her mug thoughtfully, a hand resting on her chin. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, lay it on me then. What’s up?” It was strange to see her good friend so hesitant or unsure about a matter such as this. It didn’t sit right at all with Amanda. </p><p>Nelson's voice went quiet. “Nothing good. And not much of it is information I feel comfortable relaying outside of closed doors. I don’t want to get the townsfolk all spooked. It’s not them who’s in danger, luckily. All the activities happened on the island, at the Academy. We’ve put some of the fae staff on constant watch on both ends of the ley-line highway too, just in case this spills out into Blytonbury and the mainland.” Her eyes rise from the mug and scan the quaint town, curling her lip upwards and exhaling sharply. “Though what this <em>is</em> exactly, is still unknown.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda groaned gesturing out with a bent arm and open palm. “Cryptic, I get it. But what’s actually raising all the red flags here? I don’t need a dissertation here teach.”</p><p> </p><p>Nelson turned and tilted her head downward toward Amanda, raising a brow and returning the somewhat frustrated tone. “Do you listen? I don’t want to chat about it here. You know how this town gossip, and Luna Nova’s already under some heavy scrutiny, you know that by now.” Indeed Amanda knew; Witches and magical practitioners worldwide were looked at with much greater, more negatively charged suspicion now-a-days. It was all too easy for the powers that be to otherize and distance <em> normal </em> society from it’s more anomalous and magical elements, to their own detriment no less. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda opened her mouth to speak, but her train of thought was briefly interrupted by the returning barista. She accepted her warm mug with quiet thanks before ballooning her cheeks in exhale. “Well you’re the one who seems to be eager to get me involved in this, so you’ll have to tell me eventually. I’m flying blind here otherwise.” </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll talk with the others. Professor Finnelan’s taken charge of the investigation alongside Holbrooke. I can’t even guarantee that Finnelan will want your help, despite your experience. She hardly tolerates your visits, and has nearly convinced some of the other professors to ban you outright.” Nelson lightly pinched the bridge of her nose, having a particularly strong dislike for navigating this issue. “You really, really should have tried to make amends. I told you so many times I lost count.-”</p><p> </p><p>“Twenty.” Amanda somewhat loudly sipped her drink, clearly disinterested in hearing this lecture again. </p><p> </p><p>“Not the point! You and Finnelan both are near immovable objects and it gives me a migraine like no one’s business. Just drop your pride for an hour at most and shake hands at the very least.” </p><p> </p><p>“Nope; Not worth it. Like you said, she’s immovable. Even if I try to meet her half way she wouldn’t budge. I don’t care about the expulsion Nelson. Hell after this week or two I hardly give a damn if they banish me outright. My closest friends will be out, living their lives, and it’s not like I can’t visit you here in town. What, are they gonna shame you out of it?” </p><p>“Again, O’Neill, not the point.” Nelson was left in silent frustration for a brief spell before trying to bargain once more. “She’s taking over as headmistress soon. And you know she’ll have no one stopping her from barring you then. And yeah you don’t care now, but you say the world’s changing? Luna Nova’s changing to, and for the better with Finnelans guidance. She’s putting a program together for more mature witches, and you really should consider it. You still have a lot to learn from the academy, and with the work you plan to do, you’ll need all the knowledge you can have at your disposal.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda lolled her head to one side, then the other, wide eyed with impatience. “Like I can’t learn outside of some stuffy classroom. All the knowledge I need is out there, and I’ve learned plenty already. I don’t need no one lecturing me, especially that miserable bitch of a professor. I can take care of myself, thank you very much.” </p><p> </p><p>“Fine, O’Neill, but don’t come bitchin’ to me when you end up in a hospital or worse because you went ill prepared into some ungodly mess of a situation. Or do you want to hear this lecture become a feature length production with Diana’s bedside-manner? If you’re lucky you’ll still have both legs to try and limp away from her.  I mean honestly-” The professor could go on, and on.<br/><br/>“Alright, alright, sheesh. I hear you Nelson.” A big gulp of warm brew had Amanda’s hair standing on its edge as hot met cold, and her body shivered in response. “I really will talk to her. Promise. Swear on my mother's grave.-”</p><p> </p><p>“You hate your mother, and last I remember she isn’t dead.” The stonewalled Nelson replied<br/><br/>“I meant Jasminka.” </p><p> </p><p>“Ah…. Wait, she’s not dead either! Let alone your mother.” </p><p> </p><p>“J-Would yah-Oh just let me have the expression Nelson! Anyways! I promise, with absolute sincerity, that if you really do think that, and yes, I do agree, you have a point, I’ll talk to Finnelan…. after graduation and AFTER this stupid secret problem you have going on is solved. Is that good enough?” Beleaguered and running out of corners to paint herself into, Amanda’s posture arched and her arms went out wide. </p><p> </p><p>“...Deal. I won’t harry you about it more if you actually hold to your word. I trust you.” Nelson leaned back in her seat, upright proper like. A brief spell of silence fell over them both as Nelson’s eyes casually fell back to the newspaper she’d thwapped Amanda with earlier, browsing some random headlines while Amanda stared into her coffee, arms casually bent on the table, biding the time away. While tensions simmered down, the town's natural noises filled the void and returned some semblance of peace to the situation. </p><p> </p><p>About a minute or so afterwards, Amanda broke the silence. “So is Nelson like, a nickname you got, or is it—”</p><p> </p><p>“Finish that sentence at your own peril, O'Neill. We’ve been over this.” The professor didn’t even bother to raise her eyes from the paper for that one.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll get an answer to that one day. You know I will. I’ll catch you slippin’.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ll catch the plague before you catch any wind of my name.” </p><p> </p><p>Another bit of ambient silence came over them before they both couldn’t hold back the stupid grins on their faces. Their shared simpering gaze silently communicated ‘never change’ to the other. For all the headbutting they did, Nelson and Amanda both were the type to strengthen a friendship over petty and serious arguments alike, rather than wear away at it. Their voices both needed a rest though, and each was content to just sit in the other's presence, drink some coffee, and set aside their pressing problems if only for a short while. It wasn’t a totally silent affair.  Amanda broached a few questions about her old pals most recent escapades at the academy; Nelson duped her friend with a few new ’gotcha’ style jokes and terrible puns. It was all good fun. </p><p> </p><p>“So, I was trying to-” Nelson started as quickly as she stopped, reclining in her chair and grinning widely. Curious, Amanda began to turn her head and see what caught Nelson’s attention, only to be ambushed by Hannah and Barbarah, placing a soft kiss on Amanda’s left and right cheek respectively. </p><p> </p><p>“Aahh-man-daaaahh!” The two noble ladies sounded off playfully. Beet red cheeks were shared all around the trio. Nelson took in the sight with arms crossed and eyes half closed, contented to let the three have their moment. </p><p> </p><p>“Gah! Hannah! Barbara! Do you always have to sneak up on me like that?” Amanda was hardly earnest in this complaint; she loved their penchant for creative and cute PDA, but fake-complaining about it was always fun. Amanda rose and embraced them both, before spinning about and relaxing an arm over each of their shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, yes we do.” Hannah fired back. “And furthermore, you don’t deserve a warning, given you didn’t reply to the letter I sent you two weeks ago!” </p><p> </p><p>“You sent me a letter…? Oh, for fuck’s sake—Cidwe!” Amanda cursed at the sky, groaning. “Wondered why I got some random letter from some poor bastard in Spain asking his wife for alimony payments….” Barbara and Nelson guffawed at this statement, while Hannah just quirked her eyebrows in absolute befuddlement. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, long story short, the last job had me keeping a local gathering of Fey somewhere in Northern France occupied. Caught ‘em up to speed with recent events, and taught the locals how to <em> not </em> accidentally give away their souls or whatever it is the damn pixies wanted with ‘em. Bastards nearly took my name from me before I caught myself mid sentence… That’s when they decided they liked me. Thought I was savvy enough to have some real fun with.” </p><p> </p><p>Barbara squeezed Amanda’s waist supportively. “I’m sure you can make it up to her.”</p><p> </p><p> “And when did you get to decide that, Barbara?” Hannah scoffed.</p><p> </p><p>“The moment you refused to just learn how to use a mobile phone properly and just send her a text! Or call her! Anything reasonable!” </p><p> </p><p>“Is romance dead to you, Barbara? You should know it’s only proper to send your love a letter when you want to woo them…” Hannah upturned her chin and looked away. </p><p> </p><p>“Ladies! We can bicker like old married folks when we’re uhh, I don’t know, not in public?” Amanda looked between her two loves with a beleaguered half smile before looking over to Nelson who sat all too comfortably across from the trio. </p><p> </p><p>“Hmm? Oh, don’t mind me, this is far too enjoyable to watch.” Amanda’s left eyebrow twinged. “You two don’t see it, but during our training sessions, the second I get on her case about just how adorable you three are, she lights up like the Vegas Strip. Nearly lost her damn head from a tree branch daydreaming abo—” </p><p> </p><p>“OK! Nelson! It’s great to uh, be back! Really but maybe we should uh…. Hey! Hannah, Babs, I’ll meet with you later right? Sorry but, you know how busy professors can be, haha!”  Amanda was about as smooth as gravel in trying to make excuses, her voice shaking uncharacteristically.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda resembled Nelson’s anecdote to a T, and it left Barbara leaning in close, with raised eyebrows. “Oh? She does what now? What is she thinking about exactly? Hmm?” She started jabbing Amanda in the gut, earning a few jumps and uncomfortable shifts from Amanda. </p><p> </p><p>“How cuuuute! Our brave little broom-knight is just enamored with us even when training up her flight skills? I’m truly honoured.” Hannah joined in, poking and prodding away, both now holding on tight to their squirming girlfriend. </p><p> </p><p> “Oi-Fuckin’-Quit it, I swear-I’ll kill you-FUCK STOP!” Amanda’s complaints were riddled with hints of laughter and giggling, having to duck her head down as Hannah and Barbara began ruffling her hair.  Eventually, she broke free and shook her head like a wet dog before resetting her hair back to its original style. Hannah and Barbara, meanwhile, let out an on-brand bourgeois laugh. </p><p> </p><p>Nelson stepped in, standing up and holding her palms upright and outward in a calming motion. “Jokes aside, no need to break up the gang on my behalf. I should be heading back to the academy anyway. I know we planned to meet a while back in advance, Amanda, but these are unusual times for the academy. With things being so strange, I really could only spare this last hour or so to meet with you before I needed to get back on my watch duties. Spend some quality time together girls, you’ve all earned it. Besides, I could never bear keeping you three apart.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda quirked her head, “You sure you don’t want me to at least help you with that? I mean, yeah I know, permission and shit, but if it’s just a watch—”</p><p> </p><p>“Not a chance, O’Neill. Gotta stay focused, and while I love your company, this is a bit too serious to make personal. No hard feelings of course.” Nelson cracked her knuckles, neck, and back before grunting contently. “Now stop trying to run away from your girlfriends. That’s an order.”</p><p> </p><p>“Running? Away? Psh…. I’m just worried is all.” Amanda rubbed the back of her head and turned her gaze downward slightly, but jolted it back up to her left when Hannah squeezed her arm reassuringly. </p><p> </p><p> “It’ll be alright, babe, promise. Weird stuff happens at Luna Nova every other month. I’m certain this will get it sorted out in no time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Besides,” Barbara said, “after pulling an all nighter or two, we’re eager to take a breather. A rested task force is an effective task force!” She raised a finger as-a-matter-of-factly, and Hannah nodded in agreement. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah I gue—wait…. Nelson! I thought this was, like you know, under wraps? No offense, loves, but how do you two know about it?” Amanda looked between her two girlfriends before turning to Nelson expectantly. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll give you three gueses.” Nelson stretched her arms above her head. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda half closed her eyes as her brain sputtered and spat out all sorts of answers before she, Hannah, and Barbara all spoke in unison. “Diana.” Where Amanda was less than enthusiastic, Hannah and Barbara were quite pleased.  Amanda spoke up alone then. “Why am I even remotely surprised? Ugh, and I thought taking orders from Finnelan would be bad.”</p><p> </p><p>Hannah and Barbara giggled at that. “Oh come on, Amanda, you know she’s not that intense.” Hannah moved one hand to her hip while speaking. </p><p> </p><p>“She’s still just trying to act like she totally isn’t friends with her, despite years of evidence saying otherwise.” Barbara leaned past Amanda and looked to Hannah when speaking. </p><p> </p><p>Hannah replied, putting on ruder, snobbier airs, “I swear it’s like she’s still in a high-school mentality.”</p><p> </p><p>“Uhhh, hello? Right here? In between you two? Hearing everything you’re saying?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda was easily dismissed with a finger from Barbara pressing against her lips. </p><p> </p><p>“Ugh, I know right? Like, we get, you’re a bad bitch who doesn’t associate with <em> preps </em>; Who does she think she is though?” Barbara tightened her upper lip, brushed her bangs aside dramatically, and slipped into her own ‘preppy’ persona.  </p><p> </p><p>“I swear to—”</p><p> </p><p>Another shush from Hannah this time shut Amanda up. “And yet she walks around in boots like that? With a leather jacket? Like, we get it, you’re real edgy, O’Neill. Totally not compensating for—” Barbara couldn’t finish her roasting before she found her cheek pressed against Hannah’s, with Amanda resting her chin above the two. Both Hannah and barely held back shit-eating grins, while Amanda’s expression resembled some mix between angry and amused. </p><p> </p><p>Grinning, Amanda spoke through gritted teeth to Nelson, who all the while was covering her mouth and admiring the three one final time. “Great seeing you again, Nelson! But we really should be heading out now. Don’t wanna keep you from your duties! Right, ladies?”</p><p> </p><p>Hannah and Barbara nodded, sputtering out a chortle here and there. Nelson shook her head, turning about to leave. “Don’t go easy on her, you two! I’m counting on you to straighten her out on my behalf today!”</p><p> </p><p>“NELSON!” Amanda’s voice knew only betrayal. Hannah and Barbara wrapped an arm each about Amanda’s neck, tugging her along. </p><p> </p><p>“You heard her, O’Neill. So Hannah, where to first?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmmm… I think Amanda owes us both a romantic dinner at only the finest of restaurants. All expenses paid by her of course.” Amanda twinged in pain at that.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, what a wonderful suggestion. Now to choose...” Barbara’s train of thought wandered as Amanda piped up. </p><p> </p><p>“Uh, loves? Dinner sounds great, but news flash, your girlfriend’s broke as usual. And, reminder, YOU’RE BOTH RICH AS HELL!” Amanda struggled in vain toward the end of her complaint before resigning herself to being shuffled along with her girlfriends’ arms wrapped about her. They simply laughed, all too pleased with themselves. They both gave a wave to Nelson, as she flew away towards Luna Nova. Amanda’s eyes followed the professor as she left, and quietly ruminated on the matter of this ‘devious’ threat the academy faced. Whatever it was, Amanda was ready to face it head on, one way or another. </p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The hiss of a blowtorch echoed throughout the cavernous workshop beneath the school grounds. The tools light gave the usually low lit space an array of variously defined shadows dancing about as the flame was guided along its path.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze was at the helm of another project. In its current state, the mechanical skeleton resembled a wire-figurine with an unfinished cone shaped head-lamp. However, the plans pinned to an easel beside it clearly showed the final idea for the project: Stanbot Mark Two! A clear upgrade from the prior model, fitted with more possibilities for extra tools and gadgets that would make a swiss army knife blush. It was in an early, early alpha state right now, but all great things began somewhere.</p><p> </p><p>With a hard pressed face behind her welder’s mask, Constanze welded the top-most panel to the rest of the head. Some final adjustments went its way then, with scraping tools and chisels chipping away at the excess melted metal, leaving the connected area with a clean crease.</p><p> </p><p>Her hands fell to her hips, and she smiled genuinely. It was shaping up nicely all things considered. This quiet moment of pride and satisfaction would not go uninterrupted however, as her laptop, sitting upon nearby cart-stand, chimed like a mechanical bird. A call was coming in. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze was hardly ever in the mood to chat, even over a computer. She kept her contact information extremely secure, giving it to only the most trusted people, or those who she couldn’t make excuses to ignore. After removing the welding mask and setting it aside, Constanze approached the chirping computer, accompanied by a small gaggle of curious Stanbots.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Caller ID: Croix Meridies [Flujo De Arcanos, Detenido Magico, Unspecified, Spain] </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Constanze raised her brows in silent surprise, and glared down at the clock on her system, her eyes straining to focus. They went wide at Constanze’s sudden realization of just how long she’d been down there.</p><p> </p><p>A nearby Stanbot’s alarm went off then, ringing like an old timey clock. “Private lesson! Magitronics Advanced! 9:00 hours, British Summer Time! Private Lesson! Magitronics Advanced!—” It whirred and signaled repeatedly until a palmed hand on its head silenced it. Had she really been up just about all night…?</p><p> </p><p>“Oh no….” Constanze vocalized weakly, wiping a gloved hand over her face and brushing aside her messy short-cut hair. Before Constanze could think much on whether to reject or accept it, the call went to video-voicemail, automatically connecting. </p><p> </p><p>The display of the convicted tech-witch showed her in simple grey clothing, sitting at a desk in a room whose style could only be described as perfunctory. Save for the lack of walls, replaced by a seemingly endless purple, violet, and multicolored void of magical energy swirling about. It was her own little time-bubble, where Croix was serving out her sentence at an accelerated rate of time compared to the rest of the world. Though she herself wouldn’t age as quickly, her perception of time was altered magically to experience her fifty year sentence (with good behavior and evaluations) in only a decade’s time outside of her cell. </p><p> </p><p>Croix’s velvet voice rang out and echoed about the chamber, with her eyes initially downcast at her nails as she filed them, “Constanze! Croix here. Get back to me as soon as you can with—OH!” Her gaze turned up just enough to catch a glimpse of Constanze. “You’re right there! Excellent, darling, you’re right on time for...” Croix tilted her head, staring queerly, eyeying Constanze up and down. Constanze was wearing a working apron, gloves, and a utility belt as was usual for her when down in her lab, but what stood out were the pajamas beneath it all. “Constanze, did you sleep at all?” </p><p> </p><p>An averted gaze and unsure sounding grunt from Constanze said more than needed, though a Stanbot chimed in as well. “Constanze unit analysis: Four hours slept in the last twenty four hour period! Vital signs—nominal. Anxiety levels—above average. Energy drink consumption—exceeding safe limits!” An angered squint sent the Stanbot’s way had it shutting down on the spot.</p><p> </p><p>Croix meanwhile tutted and sighed, shaking her head with closed eyes. “Darling, you should know when <em> I </em> of all people need to remind you to keep good health habits, something’s gone terribly wrong.” Sure enough, within view, Constanze could spot that Croix’s cell was still littered with empty instant-ramen bowls and other snack wrappers. When Constanze turned toward her workstation, it looked just as messy, if not worse. Constanze couldn’t argue with her tutor’s critique. She wasn’t proud to have been so anxiety ridden and scatterbrained such that this was a common occurrence. </p><p> </p><p>Sleep evaded her more than usual ever since her father tried to get in contact again last week. She’d enjoyed a blissfully detached relationship with her family for about a year now, and with her time at Luna Nova coming to an official end, having to reaccustom herself to interacting with them on a regular basis was disquieting, to say the least.</p><p> </p><p>“Constanze? Constanze. Yoo-hoo. I know you’re tired, but...” </p><p> </p><p>“Scheiße.” Constanze swore silently, before quickly clearing her throat, and reorienting her gaze to face the laptop-camera. She’d lost herself in thought again, and of all the things to get Constanze flustered and anxious, losing her composure was near the top of the list. With a frantic bit of typing into a text to speech program that emulated a voice not terribly dissimilar to her own, Constanze started getting her thoughts together. <em> “I know. I’m sorry Croix. I really didn’t mean it, honest. I was stuck pacing last night and I was just angry and tired of having to think of—” </em></p><p> </p><p>Constanze backpedaled before fully committing to the input message. <em> “I know, I’m sorry Croix. I really didn’t mean to; Finals just have me jittery. My last examinations should be finished tonight. I’m sure to pass, I know it. But, you know how I like to worry.” </em> That wasn’t what was troubling her, but it wasn’t a lie that those very same examinations were indeed scheduled for later, and she’d forgotten about them until just now, given the whirlwind of thoughts going through her mind last night. </p><p> </p><p>“Usually you’re pretty confident when it comes to this stuff, but hey. Even I was worried about my finals. It’s a natural anxiety. Life brings changes, and when have we ever liked change, even when it’s for the better?”</p><p> </p><p>Though ignorant of what truly pained Constanze at the moment, Croix’s words hit a bit too close to home for a shot in the dark. Was this for the better? Fuck no—not to Constanzen not in her current state of mind. She seethed at the very notion of returning home to take over the family business. It wasn’t what she wanted….</p><p> </p><p>But she wanted it more than anything at the same time, to be validated and accepted in her line of work; Not by her peers. She already was comfortably kept at Luna Nova, among friends. Home was a different story. It was why she was so eager to take Croix up on the offer of tutelage. The idea that Constanze’s two loves of magic and machinery could truly be married by a legitimized (albeit heavily scrutinized and well feared) field of magic and craftsmanship had Constanze hopeful she’d find her niche in the modern world; That she wouldn’t have to choose between professional loves.</p><p> </p><p> “Given all that and your disheveled state, are you sure you want to continue with our regularly scheduled program darling? I mean, you know I live for this so long as I’m stuck in this personal hell of mine.” The weight of this ‘personal hell’ only seemed to show it’s toll in brief moments where Croix dropped the guise of being completely calm and collected. She leaned in, looking closely into the camera. “That said, you know while it’s a weekly wait between lessons for you, it’s something like a month for me…. So pleeeeease? For your good pal Croix, could you maybe consider freshening up and coming back for a lesson?” Her tone faltered in confidence, clearly nervous Constanze might say no. “I can’t rightly hang up. You know the drill. Two calls per week. And Chariot would beat me senseless if I miss our own weekly appointments. Soooo, please can we keep to our agreed class-time? Pretty please?”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze simply listened intently, preferring to hear rather than speak, but found herself less than happy with the request. It just…. It wasn’t that kind of day. Depression and anxiety kicked like a mule, silently, and at the most inopportune times. All she wanted was to bury herself in her work, vent off steam to Jasminka, eat unhealthy amounts of comfort food, maybe pass out, and then wake up ten minutes before exams and sprint just to make it on time. It was all a slew of poor choices, but Constanze just wanted this day to be over before it even began. </p><p> </p><p>When enough time had passed that social norms demanded Constanze respond, she typed away. “Yeah, I’ll try and get something together. Again I’m really sorry.” A pause broke up her chain of thought as the initial message was input. “I can talk for a bit though right now. Need to put my things away. Was working on something.”<br/><br/>“Oh, but of course, when aren’t you working on something! Regale me. Tell me all about this current project of yours.” Croix leaned even closer, almost uncomfortably close for Constanze’s liking. To avoid looking at her mentor, Constanze shifted the cart the laptop was on slightly away, and began to tidy up her workstation with the help of some Stanbots. </p><p> </p><p>Actually vocalizing then, Constanze quietly spoke, prompting Croix to turn up her volume. “It’s…. A new Stanbot model. T-Third iteration. Last two didn’t work well. Poor cohesion. Messy wiring. This one’s more optimized. It’ll work well.”</p><p> </p><p>It always took a moment to get going after being silent for extended periods, needing to find her groove. Constanze had grown better at handling her selective mutism and overall social anxiety, but like any mental-behavioral ailment, it was with her for life. She found curt, to the point, and perfunctory statements to work best when said problems ailed her. It wasn’t very common to be uncomfortable with Croix, given the several years they’d had to build a resectable rapport with one another, but the jailed professor’s eccentricities did have a tendency to trigger poor reactions on Constanze’s end. Luckily, Croix was patient, and quite supportive when the situation called for it. After all, it was only a decade and a half ago that Croix herself had been quite antisocial and nervous at heart. Though where she didn’t lack in the spirit for helping, her intense charisma made most interactions with her overwhelming. </p><p> </p><p>“Aaahh! Let me see, oh please do show! You know how I adore your little helpers.” Constanze sighed, mustering what energy she could to slide the easel with the full designs on over into view of Croix’s camera. “Marvelous, darling! Marvelous!” Some time was spent in general silence, interrupted by Constanze’s clattering from cleaning and Croix muttering to herself as she went over the documents before her. “Backup-power cells…. Orchicalium plating? Expensive… Mhmm... Yes, I see why now. Sturdy… Especially heat resistant? Ah, I see your game here! It’s quite the aspirational design! I’m sure that of all the novice magi-technicians I know, it’s you who’d be up to the task of making something of this caliber! If you desire a second opinion, I always—”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze grunted negatively, clearly shaking her head. </p><p> </p><p>“Ah, I understand. It is Stanbot, after all… It just wouldn’t be right if it wasn’t all ‘you,’ you know?” A cheery chuckle and smile was left plastered on the laptop screen when Constanze turned to acknowledge and nod respectfully to Croix. Leaning back to a more reasonable distance away in her chair, Croix tip-tapped at her chin, wanting for talking points to alleviate her boredom. “Graduation!” She proclaimed suddenly. “My darling Constanze is going to be a full blooded witch in just a week or two's time! Ahh! I can hardly contain my excitement…. You know, my warden even said they <em> might </em> just give me leave for two days to come and attend!” </p><p> </p><p>The news was nothing she wanted to hear right now, all too aware she’d likely have to be the sober handler, alongside Chariot, of a very drunk Croix. Beyond that, thinking about the ceremony with or without Croix there wasn’t anything to get Constanze excited. She already loathed the notion of leaving the safe routine she’d adjusted to at Luna Nova. For all the strange things that happened around the academy, usually due to someone (not always Akko’s) ineptitude or blundering, it was a controlled chaos that Constanze could manage. </p><p> </p><p>The general routines she’d fallen into helped her form solid coping strategies and kept her anxiety in check. It all comes back to the issue of home, and family. Again. “Fucking hell.” Constanze spoke plainly, flatly, venting out one of many nasty thoughts bouncing about her head, earning a quizzical response from Croix. “Oh. Nothing, Croix. Pinched a finger. I’m… Excited though. I guess.” </p><p> </p><p>Croix replied with a bit of drumming from her fingers against her desk. “Ohhh? Did the Hypersoft representative get back to you? Or maybe Platinum? Oh and remind that bastard Geoffry that he <em> still </em> owes me for that program audit I did for him, despite being literally in jail. You wouldn’t believe the hoops I had to jump through to convince my wardens to let me do that. And if that doesn’t convince him to at the very least recommend you for an apprenticeship with Wind and Water Inc, then he can shove—”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze gripped her fists tight against the desk and breathing as steadily as she could. This was not the time or place that Constanze wanted to think about that. She hadn’t even really sent applications out to those companies. They didn’t interest her, and why should they? They were just bland, mundane, tech companies hoping to corner their own piece of the market by being some of the first to monetize magic in consumer goods. Constanze would be wanted only for the profit she could bring in, not the soul of her creativity, or her works.</p><p> </p><p> Croix didn’t seem to have a problem in making it big, but Constanze did. It was always annoying and quite difficult for her to make any headway in arguing with her mentor. She had a bad habit of not ‘getting’ Constanze’s complaints. Not that she seemed to try very hard to do so. </p><p> </p><p>A new voice saved Constanze the trouble of having to get Croix off her back, interrupting her. “You talk too much, Meridies. Lay off.”</p><p> </p><p>Sucy crossed the threshold of the lair as silent as wind. She was robed from head to toe in a purple gown and cloak. Only her pallid face and hands were visible. To say Constanze was relieved would be the understatement of the century.</p><p> </p><p>Croix turned awkwardly in her chair, trying to get a view from the laptop, futilely, to see who had addressed them. “Hmm? Who’s there? Conz, darling, can you turn-Ah! Sucy Manbavaran! Long time no see!”</p><p> </p><p>Sucy leaned in from one side, making just half of her face visible, looking clearly displeased.  “Don’t play coy. I’m not in a mood to talk to you. I came to see Constanze. In private.” Constanze turned about from her desk, smiling at Sucy as she allowed her closest friend to take the wheel. </p><p> </p><p>“N-Now Sucy, honey, I’m certain it can wait just a moment more! I mean you have Constanze all to yourself so much more often than I. I mean ever since you set up a lab right here in the workshop… You can for sure just wait a-”</p><p> </p><p>“Nope. Not hearing it. You’re making her uncomfortable. You can talk next week.” </p><p> </p><p>“SUCY, D—”</p><p> </p><p>Click.</p><p> </p><p> “Finally, some peace and quiet.” Sucy inhaled sharply and eased into a smile as she approached Constanze then, slowly offering a hand to to take if she so chose. “Not a good day then, is it, Amalie?”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze wasted no time clasping her hands about the one offered, and idly rubbed along the palm and back in a calming motion, shaking her head in sad agreement. Sucy always knew the best ways to let Constanze stimulate herself down from any anxious highs or depressive lows, and had a penchant for showing up just when she was needed most. </p><p> </p><p>“Usually you’re better at shutting Croix down when she crosses a line. And I heard from Jasminka you weren’t doing so well.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze, again, nodded. She was displeased with how shaken up she’d gotten over all of this. She’d improved her ability to cope and handle such situations a great deal, but none of her past experiences at Luna Nova prepared her well for dealing with family matters. They were always a sharp thorn placed firmly in her heart, and Sucy knew more than most how it stung. </p><p> </p><p>Sucy simply returned the nod, and with her free hand, magicked a pair of stools over, allowing the two to sit beside one another. Sucy didn’t talk  for the next ten minutes, allowing Constanze to simply grip on tight to Sucy, and otherwise occupy her own hands with tools and various other things from her desk. All the while, Constanze processed a litany of thoughts and concerns.</p><p> </p><p> Eventually, she regained full composure, and exhaled in a calm and steady breaths, speaking up with much greater clarity and confidence compared to before. “Thanks you, Sucy. I’m sorry you had to get involved like that, especially with Croix of all people.” There was still a somber air to Constanze’s words, but Sucy was silently joyful to see Constanze had returned to normalcy. </p><p> </p><p>With a roll of the shoulders and idle turn of the head, still tired looking and stonewalled as ever, Sucy drifted her gaze off towards nothing in particular. “I liken her to the only viper I wouldn’t enjoy the company of. You always did have more patience than me for nonsense.” A brief pause accompanied Sucy turning back slightly toward Constanze. “We don’t have to discuss what has you upset if you don’t want. Though I wish you’d remember more often to come talk to me if things get bad like this.”</p><p> </p><p> Leaning her head idly against Sucy’s arm, Constanze made a loose shrugging motion. “I worry about relying too much on you, Jasminka, and, well, everyone. And besides, I feel there are just some things I need to ...” She stumbled briefly for words, biting her lower lip gently, “Let it wash over me. Just feel what I need to feel and be done with it. This… Well this maybe wasn’t the time for that but, in the moment, I just needed to be alone.” </p><p> </p><p>A low grunt communicated Sucy’s understanding as she looked off at the wall opposite to them again, “I trust your judgement, as always. Though Croix did have a point. You’re getting sloppy, as in literally.” Sucy gestured idly to a few discarded soda-cans. “You should shower and maybe take the day off after you’ve cleaned this all up. I don’t mind helping if you like.” Sucy casually levitated a few empty cans and disposed of them properly, transmuting them into usable aluminum scrap and stripping the decal-paint off. Constanze would no doubt appreciate the extra materials later. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze joined in the effort, and spoke up once more. “Yeah, it’s been… A rough week, not just a rough day. I kept it together for the most part, but…..” No more words were needed. Sucy understood well enough, and Constanze could tell just by how she hummed. </p><p> </p><p>“Say, were you listening long? Croix mentioned the bad habits a bit earlier in the conversation?”</p><p> </p><p>Sucy paused briefly, “Ah? Oh, yeah. I came down here an hour ago; was just listening in while you worked. I wasn’t really hiding, I was just at my station.” She gestured lazily toward the back left corner of the room where her alchemy lab lay. It was recently used, and a few beakers were lit over simple flames, clearly needing to be heated for quite some time. Constanze was hardly surprised she hadn’t noticed. When she was in the zone, there was little save direct confrontation that would draw her attention elsewhere.</p><p> </p><p>Sucy yawned the first half of her following sentiment: “Didn’t feel right to disturb you while you were working. Especially given the circumstances that brought you down here.” With bland enthusiasm, Sucy crushed up one of the many cans and chucked it toward the growing pile of scrap, landing it perfectly on top. “Woo.” Distractions now aside, she continued. “It felt best to stay busy, so I started my own work. Couldn’t stand that woman’s foolishness anymore though.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze sighed. “You don’t need to be too rude to her. I mean, she can’t do any harm, being locked up and everything. Besides, she didn’t know. Honestly, she’s usually better about this.” </p><p> </p><p>Sucy turned fully to face Constanze, brushing her own left bangs aside. “I’m not sure what you see in her, really, besides the technical know-how. Not that I’m the biggest people person of course. I don’t have to waste time and energy on people who aren’t worth it.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze nodded in agreement with that last sentiment. “You’re compatible with me, that has to be worth something.” </p><p> </p><p>Sucy smiled quite genuinely, a rarity for Lukić’s most favored apprentice. “It’s worth quite a bit, I think. More than you know.” Constanze couldn’t help but clear her throat and look away, flush with minor embarrassment. Sucy simply cackled quietly in return, enjoying the rise she’d get out of Constanze every now and then with such compliments. </p><p> </p><p>A Stanbot interrupted this heartfelt moment with a most urgent message. “Alert! Alert! Visitor! Visitor! Alert! Alert!” It waved its arms frantically as various other Stanbots joined in, before Constanze calmed them with a motion of her hand, as though she were lowering the volume on a speaker.</p><p> </p><p> “Stanbots, report. Who is it?”</p><p> </p><p>The group of mechanical helpers jumped up and down, yelling with artificial glee. “Amanda! Amanda! Amanda!”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze swelled with anticipation. It had been nearly eight months since Amanda’s last visit! They weren’t the closest of friends, but it was always exciting to have her back with the gang, and so Constanze sprang up from her stool and waved her arms. “Here already!? Mein gott! Get me a clean uniform and prep the shower, stat! I will <em> not </em> be going out there looking or smelling like this.” For all the trouble and annoyance Amanda might bring to any given situation, her arrival sure did wash away the rain and disperse the clouds of anxiety and depression that lingered over the workshop. She and her antics were a welcome distraction, and it was a good excuse for Constanze to get her act together.</p><p> </p><p> Sucy was less enthusiastic. “Ah. Wondered when she’d show up. I mean I’m glad you’ve caught your second wind, Constanze, but I think I’ll just finish my alchemy business before heading over to the arboretum. I’ll catch up with you guys later. I think my babies are hungry.” She was of course referring to whatever collection of highly dangerous mushrooms and plants were maturing in the schools’ greenhouse. Sucy had been able to gather a few like minded friends from various levels of the academy’s student body who shared her love for all things strange in the botanical world, and they had formed the ‘Exotic Botany Club’ around three years prior, with Sucy as the de-facto president. She wasn’t about to let her most recent batch of lovelies go to waste, even with the upcoming graduation and the strange happenings at Luna Nova. </p><p> </p><p>Sucy rose beside Constanze, and gently held her friend’s shoulder. “Before I do that though, I just wanted to say.” Constanze turned, dropping her arms and looked up at her far taller friend (whom she was endlessly jealous of in that regard), granting her full attention. “I wanted to let you know that, whatever you decide to pursue, and whatever it is that’s bothering you; I’m sure you’ll choose the right path to take. You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for a lot of the time, and I’m not talking about your skill with machines.” Constanze’s smile went wide and her eyes glistened lightly. Sucy continued, “Think long and hard on it, and I know you’ll be happy in the end.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze could almost cry at the sentiment offered, hurrying back and embracing Sucy suddenly. Though caught off guard, and nearly toppled, Sucy relaxed into the hug with a content smile, eventually returning the gesture with a pat on the back. “Now go shower. Seriously. I may like gross things, but B.O. is not one of them.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze pulled back, getting a whiff of herself before recoiling. Grease, anxious sweat, metal shavings, and energy-drink breath was perhaps one of the worst combinations of scents ever conceived, and Constanze would waste no time in being rid of it. </p><p> </p><p>She hurried off with a silent look that spoke her goodbyes, leaving Sucy to her own devices. Stanbots shuffled about and redoubled their cleaning efforts, with Sucy shifting past, hardly making a sound. At her desk, she went over a few documents that normally looked quite inconspicuous, but on closer inspection seemed to detail investigation efforts into the strange sightings of hooded trespassers at Luna Nova. Despite needs for quietness on the matter, Sucy knew Constanze wasn’t the gossiping type, and that she wouldn’t rummage through Sucy’s belongings to begin with.</p><p> </p><p> With a flick of her wand, Sucy brought life to a nearby crystal ball and scanned through its magi-digital databanks. A voice message had been left for her to find. Without delay she began to listen, otherwise busying her idle hands with beakers and mixtures. </p><p> </p><p>A man's deep voice was projected from the recording.  “Manbavaran, Ibrahim here;" His voice was stern, deep, and heavy. The situation was serious. "We’ve received reports from you and your academy’s associates that the sightings of the persons of interest have increased. We’ve searched for leads on the photographs you managed to capture and the vague description of the first subject, but we’ve come to a dead end. This is more concerning than you may think, as it leaves us with little idea as to their intent or their full capabilities. On request of Principal Holbrooke, I’ll be bringing the rest of our coven’s agents in to help in securing the academy." A brief pause in the recording let Ibrahim find his words, where Sucy's eyes wandered over to the crystal ball. "I know you wished to keep our handling of this quiet, but protocol dictates we take a more hands on approach now. Especially given the aggressive action taken against Professors Babcock and Chariot. We know no one was injured severely, but clearly they hold ill and hostile intent, and pose enough of a threat to trouble some of the most senior witches at the academy. They’ve forced our hand.” Sucy inhaled deeply, slowing her motions with the various beakers and focused more intently on the message.</p><p> </p><p>Ibrahim's message continued again after another brief pause. “You’ve not fully graduated yet, recruit, nor been fully inducted into the coven, but consider this your first operation as an Antiquarian. Special circumstances demand we bench tradition for the moment in favor of practical operations. You’ll receive further instructions once we’ve arrived. Stay safe, Manbavaran, I’ll meet with you soon.” The message came and went with Sucy exhaling in exacerbated fashion. </p><p> </p><p>She spoke aloud to herself. “Here I hoped we’d be able to end the year on a more <em> fun </em> incident, not something like this.” Shaking her head, Sucy continued, now speaking in Tagalog. “Pagpalain sana tayo ng mabuting kapalaran.” It called for good fortune and fate to favor them all, a prayer that all might be well when everything was said and done. By Sucys’ pessimistic estimation, they’d need fate on their side. </p><p> </p><hr/>
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<hr/><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Nighttime Maneuvers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey all! I'm really hyped to get this to you, and will likely be getting the third chapter finished for editing around this coming Saturday/Sunday. It seems it would be best if I did a bi-weekly schedule, and posted every other Sunday. Tensions will be ramping up from here on out, but we're still early on, and I'm very excited to unveil the proper antagonists to this series with the chapter's first scene! They'll be much more developed and complex than most antagonists throughout, so expect to see them often!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Silent, patient, and eternal anger had claimed dominion over the shapeless expanse of dark and malevolent energies. All was near pitch, but somehow even the pure darkness showed vague definition, twisting and writhing into non-Euclidean geometries. Any in their right mind would know that this dimension was wrong, and unwelcoming to all who entered that did not share in its anger or purpose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At its epicenter sat one of four sources for this aura of malice. Their robe was of a blindingly white thread. Only the lower half of their face and hands were visible, and both seemed vaguely feminine in shape and size, with her skin being brown. In a realm of shadows, her robe was much like a tiny sun, and emitted a constant minor radiance. The witch sat in silent contemplation, awaiting the arrival of her sisters. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From the periphery of the white-robed witch's downcast vision, a distinctly different black mass approached and rounded their position, shuffling erratically. They knew it was no gibbering aberration from the beyond; it moved with too much familiarity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> The seated witch broke no smile, nor showed any pleasantry in greeting her impulsive and contrarian sister. “It seems even </span>
  <em>
    <span>Chaos</span>
  </em>
  <span> itself can grow impatient when the results are uncertain.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Impatient!? Impatience born out of boredom! Not out of concern. Time… Time! Time is on our side, as always!” Chaos, as the witch in black was called, paced about in erratic fashion. She walked with uneven steps, in both distance and frequency, with a hand raised to her chin, scraping away at her blue-ish flesh with unkempt nails of varying lengths. Her body resembled a victim of drowning, appearing gaunter beneath the robes than her sister in white, and showing signs of mid to late stage necrosis. For all the age her body showed, she was a full two feet shorter, and her voice could best be described as belonging to an adolescent girl. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the midst of this frantic shuffle, Chaos suddenly burst into speech “Yet for all the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Will</span>
  </em>
  <span> desires, We find you sitting here in quiet. Again! Over a millennium passed, and still We find you wanting for fervor! For drive!” Her eyes were never quite centered on whomever she was speaking to, and fluttered sporadically. Her tone was as erratic as her movements, and her volume rose and fell without rhyme or reason. “Useless, useless, useless!” A pointed finger in the one called Will’s direction hung in the air.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will showed no interest in justifying herself or the direction she was taking the coven. “We presume you’ve finished your task. The trap is set?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos twinged and bit her lower lip, causing it to bleed. Her hands trembled into fists before she wrenched and spun about, clawing the air and calling forth colorful clouds of smoke. The mists took form with muttered words of power, and eventually, an image formed and displayed the island upon which Luna Nova was located. Floating up away from the not-floor, Chaos dotted a perfect circle of ten bright lights around the academy’s perimeter, and marked three points in the center of said circle. “It is done,” she spat out, not even deigning to look back at Will when speaking. “Mostly. The innermost runes must be primed, but if this plan of yours is to work-work, We require aid!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you lack the competence We see little reason to humor your further.” Will began but was cut off by an acrid hissing from Chaos. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no, no! Foolish! Listening! Not listening, you!” Her sentences lost cohesion and became jumbled, irritated. “Plan most patient not going work to! Not without distraction-action! Witches learn of ploy, may ritual witness, understand danger might! Flee fly! Away from trap! Wasted time, wasted effort!” Chaos stomped twice and clawed at her own wrist. She only calmed when Will raised a hand, and from her palm, a soothing stream of arcane energy was projected. It dizzied Chaos, and in time she managed to regain cohesion. “If you are incapable of maintaining completing this task on your own, then so be it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will clapped her hands together once, and after a minute of echoing, two figures approached, one from her left, and one from her right, now flanking Chaos. The left witch wore crimson robes, and the right wore navy blue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The crimson witch spoke first. “The Pact calls,” followed by the navy witch, “The Fates answer!” They then spoke together. “How might We serve?” Their words carried impish intent, and both sported smiles that would likely never fade. Both shared a pale visage and skin tone, and neither blinked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will gestured to the witch in red, “Cause,” then to the one in blue, “Effect.” She steepled her hands together. “Report. Have you successfully struck an accord with a worthy third party?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The twins nodded in unison, and continued to speak as one. “Vampires, a brood only five centuries shy of matching our own age. They seek vengeance of their own, upon a family of formerly renown witches.” Cause chuckled, leaning in, “Simple creatures,” Effect followed up, “Simple desires! They were easily tempted by the promise of power and position.” Effect moved closer to Chaos, wrapping an arm about her shoulder to Chaos’ dismayed chittering and cursing. Cause did the same a moment after, and spoke, “We provide them a host of servants, monsters and minions, and they shall lead a strike against the witches of Luna Nova.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos squirmed and lamented, “Birds of a feather perhaps, but doves have no place soaring with eagles!” Whether Chaos actually believed an alliance with vampires to be ill advised, or simply disagreed due to her contrarian nature was unclear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will squinted, and an unseen force struck Chaos about the face, making an audible noise of flesh striking flesh. “Pride has failed us before, and I will not allow it to hold sway over our actions anymore. Or have you so easily forgotten, once again, that it matters not who casts the stone of our vengeance, but only that we are not the ones to cast it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause and Effect giggled at their pact-bound sister’s pain. “She’d sooner break the pact to inflict an ounce of pain on them directly than adhere to your wishes, Will.” The twins seemed obedient, but Will knew better than to doubt they had their own desires on how the coven should conduct itself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos reeled back, and then lurched forward into a hunch. “We have not forgotten! Nor will We forget that slight! Pain, death, anguish on you and yours when the Mantle is passed to us once again!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will hummed low, rising from her seated position finally, and approaching the trio. “As if to casually forget the wounds you’ve inflicted on myself, or our twin sisters? Truly, We forget at times why We allowed your collective self to choose this…. Child, as a vessel.” Will grabbed Chaos’ chin, and examined her, tutting three times as she shook her head before letting go. Cause and Effect then backed away, as Chaos too receded, furtively clutching her own hands. “It is of no consequence now. Our deal is struck with the vampires. Cause, Effect, tell me the name of their bloodline.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The twins shared a side-eyed grin before speaking. “Bathory!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos rolled her jaw about, readjusting it, and humming something, as if the name were familiar. Will looked to her and raised her right arm with an open palm. “Speak freely. Do you know of them?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. No, no. Not clearly. Heard in passing, of a hunger insatiable. Their lady, a dark and majestic woman, drank the blood of countless women, witches and sorcerers included. Powerful, but ultimately defeated.” Chaos seemed to be warming up to the idea, rubbing her chin and wiping her face of now dried blood. “Perhaps this will be interesting.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your enjoyment is unnecessary. Focus on the tasks at hand.” Will shifted her attention to the twins. “Both of you will accompany Chaos to Luna Nova. You will provide a distraction, and allow her to infiltrate the inner sanctums of the academy. The final runes will be activated, and the first phase of this plan shall be complete.” She knelt, placing her fingertips against the indistinguishable ground, and channeled magic through it. “We grow one step closer, once again, to avenging our past selves, and destroying the legacies of the Deceiver and her eight lapdogs.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From the drawn out magics, a pattern of lines began to take, pulsing like blood vessels, and twinkling like starlight against the void of space. It grew to cover a space of thirty feet in diameter, with Will and the other Fates standing at the center in a square formation. Simple lines and drawn shapes began to spiral inward then, and form more complex imagery, until a sigil of great olde power took shape:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nine unique symbols hummed and radiated primordial energies; it was magic untamed. Each glowed a different color, and would slowly shift hues as time went one. Notable shapes in the complex designs included things resembling a mirrored tree, overlapping stars with inconsistent numbers of points, squares spiralling inward infinitely, and a sun, whose rays bled downward, as if melting. They were all jagged in design, almost sloppy looking, as if scrawled into this dimension by way of a mad-man's knife.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When all nine images took shape, Cause and Effect beseeched Will. “Ho? Is it truly necessary to call on our patrons power so soon?”. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will rose and nodded once, not caring to justify herself. She began to speak ritualistic words, raising one hand upward, drawing in the air a curvy pattern of lines and dashes. “It is anger that has made us strong, and allowed us to persist. It is anger that will bring us vengeance. Let us never forget our betrayal. Let us never forget our</span>
  <em>
    <span> hate</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” When finished drawing, Will and the other Fates looked longingly off into the sky, silently awaiting a response. It came in the form of a similar, but discernibly different enough symbol drawn by an entity or force that was not visible. The call-and-response portion of the ritual was satisfied. The Pursuer had heard them, but demanded to know who beseeched it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Fates breathed in unison, joining hands and closing their eyes. The group uttered an incantation in unison. “We are The Fates. Our souls are sworn upon a pact eternal, until vengeance is won. Oh great Pursuer in the void, lurker in the shadows between stars, hunter of the Deceiver, we call on your wells of power to invigorate us. In accordance with The Pact most generous, your power is thine, and not mine. Vengeance will be taken not by our hands, but by others, led by our wise counsel, and empowered in turn.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their chants fell silent as they awaited the arrival of their eldritch benefactor, and sure enough, a great moaning and groaning began to echo about the seemingly empty space. The chittering and pitiful eld abominations that scurried in the distance began to yelp, bray, and weep, before flailing off further into the darkness, seeking shelter from the predatory master of The Fates. It could not be seen, either by its own desire to remain hidden, or because human eyes could not perceive it in this plane, but The Fates had grown intimate enough with it to know part of it’s true form. When the air grew heavy, and all sound ceased entirely, the fates pressed on with the ritual. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will spoke alone. “We are Will. We have forsaken our former names and purposes. We have given all to vengeance. ”A purple light began to form in the center of the circle The Fates had stood in.“We bear The Mantle of The Pact, and lead The Fates in our quest. We humbly beseech your aid.” The light grows, and a beam projects endlessly upward into the void.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then the other three speak in unison. “We are Chaos, Cause, and Effect. We serve the bearer of The Mantle. We have given everything to vengeance.” A knot of energy then formed in the beam at chest level relative to The Fates. Each present takes a deep breath in preparation. “We humbly beseech your aid.” The knot then bursts, shooting out four separate lasers of piercing light into the hearts of the witches, causing them all to begin writhing in agony. The cohesion of their hand-held circle falls a part, and the mosaic depicting the betrayal they suffered is whisked away in a violent wind, like sands on the lips desert dunes. Their pain is shared in this moment, as symbols of eld are burned into their palms, and upon their hearts once more, as each inherits a small portion of their far-flung master’s power. Just as the runes are burned into the flesh however, they sink deeper, reaching muscle, and bone, before disappearing entirely. Their wounds reknit themselves, and The Fates began to collect themselves once more, standing weakly, and breathing heavily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The presence leaves their domain then, and The Fates were left alone once more. Each regarded the other with a nod, before they let loose upon the empty nothingness all around them with volleys of spells, incants, hexes, curses, and general magical prowess. Abominations of all sizes are blasted, burnt, evaporated, and transformed, left even less recognizable than before, until each witch had their fill, and settled with a calm exhale. They had gained the power of The Pact once more, and would have held onto it for at least a years time, and were merely grateful that their dark master did not demand immediate tribute in return. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos speaks up, impatient as ever. “Power is gained, rituals concluded! Enough time wasting! We hunger for progress, for screams and deathly delights!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause and Effect nod sympathetically. “We as well are eager… Our objectives are understood. Luna Nova shall be ensnared before the week’s end, and the Bathories will have their silver-plattered feast.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will approves with a gesture, bidding her sisters to leave as a portal to the mortal plane opens behind them. “Do as you must. Remember the restrictions of the pact. Do not return as failures.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos interjects before turning to face the portal. “And what will you be doing, Will? Meditating? Daydreaming? Useless, useless! Time planning for gone! Busy-hands work need doing! Knowing what doing Will is!” She was becoming incoherent again, and received soft touches on the shoulder from the twins; a rare display of comfort. A minute passes with Chaos grinding her teeth before she speaks fluently again. “You may bear The Mantle, but We refuse to witness you laze about when there is work to be done.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will exhales sharply, her patience too now wearing thin. “Your insolence is noted. If you must know, plans do not form themselves, nor do I plan to reside here for much longer.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause pipes up. “And where will you go then?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will responds. “To uphold our end of the bargain with the Bathories, of course.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dianaaaaaa…. I’m starviiiiiing….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko was slumped over Diana’s shoulder, groggy and still sporting a messy bit of bedhead. Her school uniform was wrinkled and unkempt with the vest buttoned improperly. Diana, of course, sported no such sloppiness. She was prim and proper as ever, save now for just the slightest hint of drool from Akko on her left shoulder. She cleared her throat and poked away at her girlfriend's cheek, trying to make some distance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Akko. Please. If you’re going to use me for a pillow, at least don’t drool on me. It’s really quite repulsive.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh? Eheh… Sorry. Rehearsal went really late last night.” Akko pulled away and wiped her face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two sat close together in the cafeteria, at a lone table off towards the south-eastern corner of the room, awaiting the arrival of the rest of the old crew. It was early afternoon, maybe 12:32 by Diana’s sharp estimate. The space wasn’t crowded: some final classes for the fall-winter semester were still finishing up, and the rush of students would come later. Diana and Akko always preferred to have their lunch around this time, avoiding gossiping eyes and vicarious ladies pining for either Diana or Akko. They were the student body’s power couple. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Spooning more soup into her mouth, Diana swallowed it before speaking up again, with Akko now returned to a lazing position against Diana’s shoulder. “I thought I told you such rehearsals would be unnecessary, at least for now. There’s still all of December and a week more until the ceremony.” Diana’s tone was measured as always, though hints of concern were clear to any who were well acquainted with the Scottish noble.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko groaned weakly. “Most professionals practice two months in advance for this sort of thing, though. Dianaaaaaa, why do you keep trying to push me away from this whole thing?” Akko knew Diana meant well, but even she should know fighting with Akko over her passions and pursuits was about as pointless as trying to keep Wangari from the presses, or Sucy from her mushrooms. “I’m not dumb, Diana, you’ve been telling me to put this off for a while now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sighing softly, Diana set aside her spoon and wrapped an arm about Akko’s waist, holding her close. She did not turn to face Akko. She couldn’t bear to do so when lying, even if it was for Akko’s own good. “You run yourself ragged far too easily, Akko. Artists get burnt out all the time, you know, and I’m certain even Professor Chariot took breaks from her shows as needed.”  Diana squeezed her love once. “And I miss spending more time with you.” She was able to look at Akko for that final statement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko smiled like the huge dork that she was. Every time Diana showed those obvious signs of affection and love, Akko couldn’t help but patronize her as though it were somehow out of character, despite having been in a relationship with Diana for nearly four years now. “D’aaawww, Diana, you’re too sweet. Where’s my snooty nerd girlfriend?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t push it.” Diana’s words were hushed as Akko’s dumb smile spread from her to Diana, though she suppressed it some and avoided eye-contact briefly. Where Akko giggled, Diana cleared her throat. Two years together, and they were still head over heels for one another. “Anyways. Being wholly serious, you should go easy on the rehearsals, for your sake and the drama club’s. I’m certain you’ve… Ahem, slipped well into the character archetype of </span>
  <em>
    <span>bossy director</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At least Akko wasn’t being tangled up in the trespassing incidents. If Akko ever discovered that Chariot of all people had been attacked and wounded, it would be absolutely impossible to stop her from responding unreasonably; such reckless actions could jeopardize the whole academy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For as much as Diana knew Akko to have potential to match her own skill, she was certain these witches, whoever they were, surpassed them both. For all the energy of youth, Diana, Akko, all of them were still young; there was much to learn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana’s brooding and catastrophizing was thankfully disrupted by Akko’s declarations. “You need to be bossy! You taught me well! Discipline brings results! Results build confidence! Confidence builds careers!” From horribly drowsy to upbeat and emotive in moments, Akko’s posture sprange up, and her eyes opened fully. She chopped one hand into her other palm with each statement, emphasizing their importance. “If I’m going to be a performer, I need to be my own harshest critic! And I need to teach the younger students that too! Self critique is necessary for principled—BUNNY!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko leaned far past Diana over to the window, smooshing her face against the pane. Diana reeled back with wide eyes, before palming her face</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko cooed at the bunny that had now taken notice of its watcher, and stood up on its hind legs, quirking its head. “He’s so pretty! So well groomed! D’aww… What a good baby…” She waved, and her sudden movements caused the rabbit to flee into the surrounding woods. After calming back down, the two settled back into proper seating positions, with Diana chuckling weakly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>AKko rubbed the back of her head. “Now, uh, where was I? Oh, right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as Akko inhaled deeply, as if preparing to monologue for hours, Lotte called out from the distance, with Jasminka, Amanda, and Constanze in tow. “Akko! Diana!” Waving hands from Lotte, and warm smiles all around had Akko gasping and covering her mouth. Diana smiled wide, and stood. She began to wave and speak, but was interrupted by Akko running off to meet the group, tackling all four of her friends in a great big hug. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“YOU’RE BACK! I MISSED YOU GUYS SO MUUHUHUCH!” Akko was nearly weeping with joy. Amanda simply laughed, where Lotte struggled for air, Constanze fidgeted desperately to escape, and to everyone's pain, Jasminka returned the gesture with an even greater hug. A keen ear may have heard someone’s back snap. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jasminka spoke up where everyone else in the huddle gasped for air and flailed slightly. “I missed you too, Akko…! But… Didn’t you come by just this morning?” For mercy, Jasminka let go, and everyone was released from the bear hug, catching their breath and learning how to use their lungs again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well… Ach. Yeah, but, well, It’s different! It’s different when the whole gang’s here! Without Amanda, it always just feels like something’s missing.” Akko tugged on Amanda’s arm as her friend coughed heavily, having forgotten just how terribly strong Jasminka’s love could be at times. “But—” She spun about, her once teary eyes now clear. “Where's Sucy?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze uttered a single word, not feeling very chatty after the sudden onset of physical affection. “Arboretum.” She pointed in the loose direction of the greenhouse, its glass roof just in sight from out the windows of the cafeteria. With that she pulled up a nearby chair, sat down, and dusted off her clothes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko leaned forward, her arms drooping, and her voice conveying exaggerated exhaustion. “Again? She was out there all day yesterday… And the day before that. She won’t even try and experiment on me! Not even when I’m asleep!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana turned her head in abject confusion. “I thought you weren’t exactly a fan of being a guinea pig." She sat down and sipped her tea.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean, only after that time she accidentally almost turned me into a tree. She’s gotten so much better these past few months! Hardly any of her weird potion thingies have unintended effects! And it’s just not like her to avoid me like this…. Besides, it’s kinda fun.” Akko returned to her seat beside Diana, holding her head with both hands. Diana rolled her eyes, accepting she just wouldn’t understand some aspects of her girlfriend. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte, dazed and catching her footing, eventually found herself a chair at the table. She shook her head once, and readjusted her glasses before speaking. “She’s been really distant recently. She’s even missed a few classes here and there. Even Lukic’s!” Lotte pressed her two pointer fingers together, humming with concern. “It’s very unlike her… Her plants don’t need that much tending right?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana pinched her chin and thought quickly on an excuse to make. She was well aware of Sucy’s involvement with the investigation, and despite wishing to tell her most trusted friends, Diana was steadfast in adhering to the agreed secrecy for now. Though, she was beginning to have doubts over the matter, fearing this need for secrecy was born less from preserving a calm and unpanicked state among the student body, but also to keep Luna Nova in the good graces of the world beyond its walls.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> The academy had received enough bad press in the past six years to last a lifetime. The missile crisis and certain events surrounding Blytonbury were at the top of the list, but the academy continued to become surrounded in rumors and incendiary gossip ever since. Whether the claims were true or not was irrelevant, the public was largely swayed. Holbrooke and other senior staff knew that if any more extreme incidents were to occur, the reactionary forces in the media and politics would be able to formally sanction the academy. This could pave the way for further anti-magic legislation across the nation, if not Europe as a whole, as other nations internationally had already begun to formally suppress magical practice and the rights of magical entities. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda interjected with her usual laid back approach to such things. “Bah, I’m sure she’s just havin’ a rough week or two. One of her precious shrooms probably wilted and got her all upset.” Amanda slovenly took up nearly two chairs worth of space with her spread legs. Her comment earned a slight glare from Constanze, who sat beside her. “What?” Amanda shrugged. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Conz sighed, shaking her head, and thinking of dropping the matter at first, but decided to speak up anyway. “You know she cares about more than just her plants right?” It’s just quiet enough to hear over the natural noises of the cafeteria’s chatter, and the clanging of utensils. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda replied, “I mean, probably. Damned if I know what that is though. Come on, Conz, you know I’m just bustin’ her chops.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hardly pleased, but also knowing the topic was a bit petty to argue over, Constanze tried to change the subject. “You said you arrived yesterday.” The obvious continuation would be, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“so why didn’t you stop by?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was… busy.” Amanda smiled coyly. Constanze sighed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana formed her own sly smile. “Busy with Hannah and Barbara? No wonder I didn’t see them in our dorm this morning.” Amanda chuckled through grinning teeth, closing her eyes proudly. “I’m glad at least it wasn’t a </span>
  <em>
    <span>total</span>
  </em>
  <span> mistake on their part to form a polycule with you. Clearly you must be desirable for </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko, who had procured herself a juice box, nearly spat out the drink, choking on it instead, banging the table once as she struggled to laugh. Lotte simply flushed and turned away, hiding her giggle, while Conz hummed once. A nearby Stanbot simulated a taunting laugh toward Amanda. Jasminka gasped, covering her mouth over-dramatically.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda twitched and opened one eye, pointing a finger lazily toward Diana, and leaning forward. Her smile remained, but it showed hints of playful anger. “Wanna run that by me again, cabbage-bitch?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh? I’m sorry, what was it you called it earlier, O’Neill? ‘Busting chops?’” Feigning austere ignorance of the third degree burn she had just dished out, Diana sipped her tea again, leaving one eye open to look back at Amanda. Exchanges like this were common between the two. It was all in good fun, even if the jabs seemed a bit too serious at times..</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, five minutes and you’re already trying to start shit, eh cabbage? Alright. Alright. I’ll play that game. To start, your mother—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jasminka was quick to interrupt Amanda unleashing an armageddon of arguing and insults on the group by moving about the table with surprising speed, grabbing both Diana’s head and Amanda’s, and holding them in a headlock. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No fighting! Amanda! You promised we’d have a nice reunion! And Diana! You said you’d be nicer to Amanda!” Her tone was sad, pleading, and motherly, as it almost always was from Jasminka. For a woman with the strength of eight full grown bears, she was the softest person at Luna Nova. “Now apologize! Please!” The rest of the group stifled laughter at this display, while Amanda and Diana both clawed at Jasminka’s arms to no effect, until each squeaked out something that somewhat resembled an agreement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two offenders shared a long stare while catching their breaths before acquiescing to Jasminka’s request. They spoke in rough unison, “We’re sorry…” with about as much enthusiasm as was to be expected. Jasminka turned her head down at this, and put her hands on her hips. They both groaned, and then spoke more genuinely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I apologize. I won’t antagonize you further, Amanda.” Diana upturned her head and looked out the window her right, frowning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, sure cabbage—” Jasminka nudged Amanda from her side roughly, frowning. “Ow, ow! Okay, sheesh. I’m sorry Diana. We’ll hold fire for now.” And with that, the two shake, as it seemed customary, and Jasminka’s radiant smile returned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you both! Now! I can imagine you're all just starving! I’ll go whip up something nice in the kitchen. Any preferences?” Jasminka had become something of an unofficial cook for the academy. She didn’t make enough for everyone, but her dishes were exquisite, and often made for birthdays, special catering for club events, and otherwise aided the general cooking staff. Her teachings in culinary arts and meal variety helped dig Luna Nova’s would be diet out of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>“dark ages” </span>
  </em>
  <span>as Jasminka once described it, or </span>
  <em>
    <span>“potato hell”</span>
  </em>
  <span> as others had.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko squinted, the gears of her brain spinning rapidly as she thought. “SHRIMP! Something with shrimp!” She clasped her hands together eagerly, eyes filled with starlight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze looked down to her hands, with fingers laced between one another. “Vegetable soup.” The contents of which seemed unimportant. Despite being with friends, Constanze still seemed to have an occupied mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s bad to have desert early…. But, just a small bowl of ice-cream maybe? Mint if we have it?” Lotte was cheerful, and content to share a nice meal with the group again. Even with simple requests such as this, Jasminka was always one to add special flare to her dishes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m stuffed Jas, but thanks.” Amanda poured herself a drink from a flask she’d brought in at the hip, earning a few harsh stares from her friends. “What? It’s literally water.” She offered Diana a taste test, who accepted and nodded. “Sheesh.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m also quite full, Jasminka. Thank you.” Diana gently bowed her head, and the witch-cook-supreme of Luna Nova was off with a cheery hummed tune accompanying her steps. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Jasminka was well out of earshot, Amanda leaned across the table, squinting with anger at Diana. “Eat shit and die.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana simply finished her tea, not even paying mind to look at Diana when she replied. “Hm? Oh, yes, fuck you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two then laughed as any old friends would. Where Akko and Diana went from rivals to friends, to lovers, Diana and Amanda never stopped trying to one up the other. They weren’t as vicious anymore, however.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko stifled a bit of laughter while speaking up. “It’s great to have you back, Amanda!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte concurred, and threw a question Amanda’s way. “Where did you travel to this time? Spain? Egypt?” Amanda’s tales would never replace Nightfall, but there was a sense of adventure around her friends' excursions.  Lotte yearned to hear about them in full, finding their “realness” a refreshing break from Nightfall’s more outlandish plots. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda and Diana had both relaxed, reclining back into postures befitting their usual demeanors. “France. Up in the northern countryside to be specific. I’ll tell you about it some other time though, promise. What I’m really interested in—” She paused to chug some water from her glass. “Ahh… What I’m really interested in is what you guys have planned.” Everyone seemed to perk up at that, curious as to what she meant. “Graduation! Come on, it’s been a year! You guys must have plans! I wanna know what my friends have been up to!” A single elbow on the table supported Amanda leaning in, while her other hand was held on to her right knee. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko was obviously the first to brag. “Lady Yatsumi’s Fantastical Festivities reached out to me! I sent letters, after letters, after letters! And finally! They replied!” As if she’d been preparing for this moment, Akko whipped out a crumpled letter from her uniform, earning the attention of everyone present. Even Diana seemed surprised. “It arrived just last week, and I knew you were coming by, Amanda, so I thought I’d wait and surprise you all! Heheh!” The peering eyes of her friends scanned the letter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It described the aforementioned troupe of performers, appearing to be a more mundane circus type group which primarily toured in Japan and the Pacific-Asian Islands. It was supposedly penned by Lady Yatsumi herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The woman described a desire to reincorporate mystical and magical elements from genuine witches and wizards from both home and abroad. She admits that she too felt enamored with Chariot’s performances when they were popular, but also believed that for all the spectacle and whimsy, that without more substance, it would become stale. Yatsumi reassured Akko though, stating that in a troupe such as hers, being able to combine and enhance acts through the use of magic will open up doors never thought possible by the performers. In short, Akko was invited to dine with Lady Yatsumi as soon as she was back in Japan, and free to do so! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All present gave a vigorous round of applause, even Stanbot! Diana eventually rewarded the smirking performer to be with a genuine kiss. Compliments were shared all around, and Akko took a bow, as if on stage already. “Thank you, thank you. You’re all too kind.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana, at Akko’s side, held onto her arm, and squeezed it once. “I was getting worried you’d have to look elsewhere. It’s the perfect opportunity for you, really…. Though I will hate being apart.” Diana wasn’t about to derail Akko’s prideful moment or happiness with concerns of their love. She was certain that distance would not break their bond, but it was hard not to express a small bit of sadness at the undesired side effect of Akko returning home to pursue her dream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko was simply too overjoyed to even realize the full implications of the offer until now. “Uh, Diana, I mean, I’m not leaving you obviously! I’d never! I’ll visit! Or you can see our shows, or—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll talk about it another time, my love.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Being referred to as such by Diana always made Akko’s heart skip a beat, and she smiled ever wider. Diana was smiling too, having meant nothing ill in wanting to table the subject for a time. They sat back down, content, with Akko quietly leaning up against Diana, who prompted Constanze to speak. “So, Constanze, have you decided what industry you were most interested in focusing on? I know you were quite at a loss for any clear choices. Even after that night we spent going back and forth on the matter.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze thought back to said night; it was last Saturday, and Croix had been hounding her to follow up on her recommendations and the offers that had already been sent her way. Where she was just about ready to give up, Diana had swooped in, and they were able to at least narrow down her choices to about five or so options from the original twenty. Even so, Constanze felt an unnatural bit of anger and frustration when she imagined herself spending a future at any of the choices that remained. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was little time to think in silence however. She was at a table of expectant people; they’d want an answer. “Hypersoft.” No explanation was given. It was just a random choice blurted out due to anxiety. Diana and everyone else picked up on it quickly. Best not to press the issue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, well I’m certain you’ll make the right choice. Breathe easy, Constanze. It’s all right.” Amanda rubbed her friend’s back as Diana verbally consoled her, and this time at least, Constanze was happy to be touched. A few moments passed, and she eventually calmed herself down to a point of speaking more clearly, and with purpose in her voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I’m going to just head home after graduation. I won’t like it. Not at all. But I need time; time to figure out what I really want out of life…. Not to sound sappy or anything. I just feel like if my heart’s not in the work, they may as well not be my inventions. Just… scrap I happened to cobble together into something that works.” Lotte and Amanda could directly sympathize, offering their nods and agreeing hums to Constanze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana smiled, happy to see Constanze was finding her footing, while Akko gave two thumbs up. “Damn straight! Own your labour, Constanze! Don’t let any weird corporate ghouls tell you what to invent!” The encouragement seemed almost too exaggerated, but this was of course perfectly in character for Akko, so Constanze took it with grace. She even found herself smiling widely, looking down at a Stanbot like it was her pride and joy. She exhaled with relief, unsure of just how her anxieties could plague her so immediately and so deeply, just to be washed away after a few coherent moments of logic, and with support from friends of course. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not that this was uncommon, Constanze’s anxiety was often bested by epiphanies. In one moment, the problem would be all encompassing, and overwhelming, and in the next, she might just find herself with the solution. And really, despite it being just a few good, honest looks, cheers, and compliments from friends, it felt more significant. For all the worry she had about having to reconnect with her family at home, Constanze already felt like she had a good family here, if things ever went sour. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jasminka returned with ice-cream and soup. “Lunch is served! Akko! Yours will be ready soon!” Just as expected, asking for ‘mint ice cream’ earned Lotte a gourmet rectangular dish upon which it was served. While primarily mint, chunks of chocolate, some cherries, and other sweet bits such as icing and syrup, were carefully scattered about the arrangement, adding varying texture and flavor. A cone, meant for serving ice cream in, was also on the dish, and with a flick of Jasminka’s wand, “Bourdu Dialara!” the cone was transformed into a spoon shaped utensil. Sturdy enough to scoop, and tasty enough to eat! Constanze’s soup was similarly enhanced by magic, which improved it’s taste.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko started drooling again at the sight of food, remembering just how hungry she was. “Jasminkaaa…. Hurry. I think I’m dying.” She groaned with faux desperation, before realizing Jasminka wasn’t around to hear her brag. She presented the letter, changing tunes on a dime as usual, and earned another hug from Jasminka, who was at least more mindful this time of her absolute strength.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have to go all out on your dish then! You’ve earned it, Akko!” Jasminka rolled up her sleeves, blew off her wand, cracked her knuckles, and adopted a stern expression, exhaling sharply. She may as well have been preparing to box. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before she could soldier on back to the kitchen, however, Amanda interjected. “Oi, Jasminka! Before you go, we were discussing what you guys’ plans were for after graduation. Care to fill your old pal in?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jasminka clapped her hands together, and her serious expression melted back to it’s normal, perpetually joyful state. “Ahh! Of course, Amanda! I plan to tour the Mediterranian as a student of Adlopho Esterlla, a well respected magical chef. He used to only work alone, but with magic flourishing, he intends to delight people's taste buds worldwide, starting with Southern Europe and North Africa! He’s taken on a dozen or so more students to learn his techniques and carry on his legacy! It all sounds like a dream come true!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Again, cheers and short celebratory statements were shared. Amanda patted her flask. “If you guys told me you’d have so much good news, I’d’ve actually brought somethin’ good to drink.” Jasminka curtseyed, and only Diana and Lotte were left to detail their future prospects.  Jasminka was certainly right though, not just for herself, but much of the group, the stars seemed to have been aligning ever since Akko awakened the Grand Triskelion. It really did feel like a dream at times. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Diana began to detail her taking up the mantle her mother left behind, and of her Aunt’s slow but steady turnabout into a much more respectable lady, Lotte realized she was the only one without a dream to chase. It wasn’t the first time she’d faced this seemingly existential issue, and given Constanze’s words, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>shouldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> feel alone or alienated by not knowing exactly what to do with herself. But then again, Constanze was </span>
  <em>
    <span>amazing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She could build things that defied conventional and arcane standards of reality. Professors were regularly baffled by just how she was able to hypothesize and put together such intricate machinery, which is what had Croix so fervently interested in her. Even prison couldn’t keep Croix from satiating her desire to teach. But Lotte was just... Lotte. She was normal, average, and plain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was a master at speaking to spirits. It may as well have been second nature, and while when magic was weak, this only extended to spirits bound to items and locations, it began to extend to ghosts and specters. While notable, it wasn’t marketable, or at least it seemed to show little promise when it came to the task of forging her own future. Any other witches could do it with practice. It wasn’t an ability exclusive to her or esoteric enough such as Magitronics or Sucy’s understanding of dangerous hexes and curses, that most would shy away from studying it. So what was Lotte good for? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lotte.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oi, Lotte.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lottteeeeee!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte shivered, as if roused from sleep, and scanned the table of her expecting friends. Constanze, Amanda, and Akko had called her name; Jasminka had returned to the kitchen, and Diana was finished detailing her own endeavors. “Ahh… Sorry. I was just thinking...” She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, hands resting on her kneecaps. “Thinking that I’ll probably just…. Well, go home. Back to Sweden, and help my folks run the shop.” It would be a quaint existence. It likely wouldn’t satisfy whatever it was deeper inside her that hungered for more. At least in Constanze’s case, she had gateways to a more exciting and meaningful future. Even so, Lotte wasn’t even sure if this was the right way to think about things, but also felt she’d waited too long to think about it properly in the first place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko offered an on brand infectious smile,.“Your folks are amazing! And imagine just how much stuff you guys will be able to market now! Magic artifacts are popping up everywhere nowadays!” At least Lotte could hope her business would be less boring. In the meantime, she turned her gaze downward to enjoy her ice cream, pushing away the thoughts of the future for now. Constanze eyed Lotte with quiet sympathies, sensing her distaste for what was to come.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte spoke up between spoonfuls, “Yeah. It’ll be fine.” Just fine. “But, do you guys mind if I head out? I think I want to go check in on Sucy, after I finish eating. She has me a bit worried is all.” And for all the weird rumors about her, made up almost entirely by underclassmen, Sucy was wise when it came to giving advice on personable matters. Maybe she could help Lotte figure things out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her friends unanimously agreed, of course, and otherwise broke up to begin chatting with each other about various topics, or focusing on eating their food. Only Amanda spoke up after everyone else had settled. “Mind if I come with? She doesn’t like me the most, but we’re still cool, right? And hey, maybe you could use the back up if she ain’t doing so hot.” Not that Amanda knew very well what Sucy was like when she was truly angry or sad, but she supposed every bit helped. A comforting hand from Amanda was left on Lotte’s shoulder, offering further reassurance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte wished to speak on the matter alone, even though when looking at the greater picture, she didn’t believe it to be a hugely private or deep matter. But, part of her did reason that Amanda being around actually might be good for her. Besides, afterwards, her fiery friend could regale Lotte with her (mis)adventures around the world, and all of the wild and magical scenarios she managed to get herself into. And if Lotte wanted an exciting and fulfilling life, who knew what it meant to live more than Amanda? “Sure! I-If you want!” Lotte cracked an uneasy smile, still a little unsure about it, but having already spoken the words, felt she was locked in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After they’d finished eating, and chatted more on some banal matters, the two parted ways with the rest of the group, and made way for the arboretum. The halls were busy, more so than usual during the year, given the approaching dates of finals and graduation. The matters Amanda, Diana, the staff, and unbeknownst to most, Sucy, were privy to didn’t seem to be aiding the already stressful atmosphere. Professors and fae-staff, new and familiar to Amanda, patrolled the halls carefully. Loitering students were usually never bothered in the past, but now they were commonly urged to move along and not spend any time out of the academy’s upper levels after dark.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> It of course hadn’t gone unnoticed by the general student body, but they were predominantly unaware as to why, despite rumor mills partially perpetuated by Wangari and the Luna Nova News Network. They were recently put on probation, and prohibited from operating officially after nearly unveiling their own encounters with one of the interlopers during their own personal investigation. With that bit of drama, and earnest reinforcement of more strict punishments, the students learned to not ask many questions, and just hoped the whole thing would either blow over, or that the school year would end sooner, allowing them to return home. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Those who didn’t heed the warnings, usually suffered accidents that seemingly could be explained by poor architectural integrity, coincidence, and bad fortune. But everything seemed far too suspicious, for the pieces of building that were supposedly weak, or seemed to suffer natural damage were perfectly fine and fit to personal and students who walked by the structures just a day prior. What was more harrowing was that the events always centered around witnessing “a robed witch in black” who would flee away into the night, and seemed to herald their immediate suffering.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All of this encouraged Lotte even more to speed up the pace of their walking across campus. Thus, Amanda found it best to break up the admittedly awkward and eerie silence relative to the campus’ usual heartbeat. “So, Lotte. What’s got you wanting to head back home? Miss your folks?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. No, not really. I-I mean, yes, yes I miss them but, not… Not in any way that’s stressful or anything. I just haven’t phoned home in awhile. I could go without a visit for a few more months before I really started to feel homesick.” Lotte held her arms close to her chest, warming her hands by keeping them sandwiched between her sides and opposite shoulders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just wanna take a break from school, then? Or, life in general I guess? Sounds like you and Constanze both could use the break.” Amanda idly cracked her neck, flinching when she felt it properly pop. “Tch. Oof… Can’t say I, ach, could understand wanting to meet your folks though. But I guess from what Akko and Sucy told me, they’re pretty alright.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte nodded, “They’re really sweet. They’d care for me until they couldn’t, and would keep trying even then. They’d love to see me take up the shop full time… But—” She wavered, not knowing how to express herself further. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But you ain’t about that life.” Amanda fully stretched her arms upward toward the sky, groaning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean. I don’t know. I gotta figure that out.” Lotte was uncharacteristically curt in her retort speaking with finality. Amanda took the hint that if Lotte wasn’t interested in speaking with her, it’s best she not press further. She expected this from Constanze, not from Lotte, so it must’ve had her worried deeply. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rest of the walk was accompanied only by sounds of early winter winds, the rustling of distant trees, and the rare chirping of birds who hadn’t yet fled south. Their chilly, semi visible breath became invisible once inside the greenhouse where Sucy resided. A veil of hot air separated the two halves of the entryway, where taking just one step would change the degrees by seemingly twenty points. Despite being left open, the temperature past that point would never drop. It was a welcome relief. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy, a woman of habit as always, still refused to remove her thicker, warmer, winter robes and cloak, that left everyone wondering if she had legs. She was hard at work, tending to her plants, just as she said she would with Constanze much earlier that morning. A few wayward creatures of the verdant variety snapped and gurgled, eagerly awaiting their weekly feed by way of a dead mouse. When they seemed to get especially feisty, Sucy hissed something at them in Tagalog and wagged a finger like one might do to their dog or cat. Eventually the plants would calm and wait their turn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda leaned back up against the glass wall nearest to the entrance and left Lotte to her business. “Well, you’re up. Don’t wanna be rude and hover you know?” With arms behind her back, Amanda tilted her head up and closed her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte hummed nervously, though she felt she had no reason to feel such anxiety. It was Sucy; she was peculiar at times, but by no means was she unapproachable. Especially after her and Lotte shared a short few months closer than normal, until realizing it was best they kept the relationship more friendly, rather than physically and emotionally intimate. “Sucy.” Lotte approached, now holding her hands clasped at her waist. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy turned her head just slightly, pausing her business, and humming curiously. “Lotte? What’s up?” A mild bit of disinterest was normal for Sucy, at least when she was enamored with  tending to her ‘babies.’ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just wanted to come see you. I haven’t even seen you around during the morning, and you only really come back to the dorm at super late hours.” Lotte twiddled her thumbs. “And I just wanted to make sure everything was ok. I mean, isn’t it dangerous? To be out so late that is.” Lotte leaned in closer, before speaking again. “And, and I just wanted to… Talk. About some stuff. If that’s ok.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy hummed, understandingly. She was surprised she hadn’t needed to make up any cover stories until now, but given her constant poker face, Sucy was naturally good at bold faced lying. She found the whole need for it a bit petty though, especially with someone like Lotte. “I got permission from Finnelan to stay out later. This batch of half-moon mandrake requires tending at special times. It changes with the weather; with clear skies and direct moonlight. It can be a lot of work, but on cloudier evenings it’s not so much of an issue.” She dropped the dead rat she was holding into the impatiently waiting snap-plants mouth, which crunched down gleefully, and receded into the mass of bushes, brambles, and vines. “What did you want to talk about though?” She turned around to see Lotte in full, and noticed Amanda in the distance as well. “What’s O’Neill doing here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda could still hear some of the conversation, and waved with one eye open. “Yo, Sucy. Long time no see.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte followed up, “She wanted to catch up with everyone, and see what was happening. But, what I wanted to talk about was related to post graduation things.” Lotte didn’t fully comprehend Sucys’ lie, and if she had sat down and applied her fictional-investigators wit, she’d realize Sucys’ time of arrival back at the dorms had nothing to do with the weather or phases of the moon, or it’s position in the sky. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even so, Lotte was hardly convinced that a particularly tricky patch of plants was enough to have Sucy acting so distant and irregular. “But, really Sucy, you seem troubled. Akko’s worried too… We just want to make sure you’re ok. You know you can talk to us if something’s wrong right?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy muttered to herself and rolled her shoulders. “Stressed out for the same reason everyone else is. Changing times, changing lives. I’m not happy at all about needing to adapt my schedule, but I don’t get to decide when I can and can’t keep to my habits.” For as good of a bluffer as Sucy was, she had a tell just as many others did. Lotte was keen to spot Sucy rhythmically squeezing her thumb against her pointer-finger’s knuckle; it was her nervous tick. “It’s whatever really. What did you want—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sucy, please.” Lotte raised her clasped hands up, clearly sad to see her friend holding back the truth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy knew when she was beat, and was never one to continue a deception when caught. She sighed heavily, and Amanda raised a brow. Sucy raised an open palm as if offering something. “Look, Lotte. I’ll be frank, I’ve been wrapped up in some business of my own. Really serious business. The work I’ll be getting into after graduation is dangerous. Not for the faint of heart. I felt distancing myself from you and Akko at least would help soften the blow if something happened.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Amanda went from curious to wide eyed, not expecting anything of the sort. Meanwhile, Lotte approached further, now only a foot or so away from Sucy, her frown now more earnest with concern. This is exactly the response Sucy expected, and wished to avoid. This wouldn't have been the first time she distanced herself from those who supposedly cared for her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sucy…” Lotte muttered with a slight quiver to her lips. She reached out and grabbed Sucy's sleeve, but was gently nudged away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought it would sting less if I just drifted away.” Sucy turned her gaze downwards. “Easier said than done.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t just run away from us! After nearly five years… Sucy, we love you. We want to see you safe!” The declaration of love and concern hit Sucy like a silent sucker-punch, but she did not flinch from her position. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda turned her head away at Lotte’s pleading, sensing a growing weight of sorrow in her gut that reminded her of when she had to talk with Hannah and Barbara about her own line of work for the first time. She hoped this all-too-similar event worked itself out just as smoothly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Turning her eyes up now, and with greater volume, Sucy spoke, “I don’t have a choice, Lotte. There’s no choice in the path I’ve set down. Maybe it was all because of foolishness, thinking I could just walk the world alone, doing as I pleased, as I thought was right.” She remembered back to how coldly she treated some strangers, the dangers she put others in, Akko and Lotte included, and of the same feeling of disregard for another human’s safety shown by her past “siblings.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Sucy turned her head to the side, shaking it once in the negative. “But I have to do this. Either I eventually end up like Croix, or I live like a hermit. It’s the price witches like me pay to know the things we do; to study our passions.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And what is this </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> you have to do anyway?” Amanda, against her best judgement, spat out a question, though Lotte seemed on the verge of asking something similar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy jerked her head to look at Amanda. “Watch your mouth O’Neill. This doesn’t concern you.” Whether it really did or not was debatable, but Sucy’s mind was made up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte raised her voice to match her two arguing friends. “I want to know more just as much as Amanda does! You talk about this like you’re losing all your freedom!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I may as well have given it up long ago!” Sucy upturned her nose and glared with glass like sharpness at both of them. She was falling back into behaviors and mindsets she thought long ago abandoned, before she met Akko, Lotte, and before she thought she had made peace with her own life’s trauma. “Or I never had it to begin with. I don’t care which it is, because I’m not about to waste time reminiscing and dreaming about what could have been. Now go. Just go away.” She was wholly uninterested in continuing this conversation. Sucy spun about; her garden was the only sanctuary left for her mind right now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte’s eyes filled quickly with tears, and she struggled to find the next thing to say, wondering if it was right to say anything at all. She sniffled and covered her face, now beginning to sob. Sucy exhaled deeply at hearing it and spoke without turning too look, knowing the site of a crying Lotte would only deepen the regret she already had for how loose she had been with her own words. She had failed to take her own advice given to Amanda in warning. “I’m going to be fine. And if I’m not, you just have to accept that. I already have. People get hurt. They die. The world keeps turning, and the sun doesn’t stop rising. But I’m not about to hide from the world after I thought I finally found a place in it, a place with people like you.” It was an apology, and an explanation, but Lotte found it wanting still. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda too was quite fed up with how Sucy was carrying herself, and stepped up beside Lotte, comforting her with two hands on her shoulders. “Oi! Sucy! I don’t fuckin’ know what’s got you acting like you’ve gotta write your last will and testament already, but you sound like you’re out of your damn mind.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pot calling the kettle black O’Neill. Can it.” Sucy returned to her gardening fully, trying to busy her somewhat trembling hands. Her tone had now returned to a more baseline monotone as usual. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and I have every chance to stop what I’m doing at any time! And you do too… With whatever that thing you’re doing is. A bit of info would help maybe?” Lotte had Amanda pausing, almost losing her balance as she wept into her chest. “You could at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> apologize to her!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy threw down her utensils into the arrangement of plants, her voice raised. “But I can’t stop, Amanda. And you think you have a choice, but you don’t. We both know you’ll never change. People like me and you don’t change. That’s just how it is. You can keep acting like you’re in control and die unsatisfied, or you can drop your pride and accept you’re just as vulnerable as everyone else.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda’s jaw tightened, and she gripped Lotte tightly. She opened her mouth to speak ready to clap back with her typical stubbornness and wit, but found that Sucy’s claim had knocked the wind out of her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy was reaching the limit of her patience with this, and while Amanda was silent, she gathered her basic supplies, bag, and broom, and made clear her intentions to leave. When she was about to start walking toward the exit, she spoke up again, having contained her anger for the moment. “Lotte, I’m sorry. I’ll talk with you and Akko about it before graduation. I promise ....” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She started to shuffle forward slowly, with Lotte now unburied from Amanda’s chest and looking back at Sucy with a reddened face and still wet cheeks. Sucy continued, “I’m not trying to hurt anyone. Especially not you guys. But I feel it’s hard not to at times, like I have to choose between hurting myself and hurting others. And I can’t; I just won't hurt myself anymore. I promised myself that a long time ago.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She approached Lotte and Amanda, and Lotte broke away to embrace Sucy, who did not resist, and comforted her as best as she could. She buried her head briefly in Lotte’s orange hair. “It’ll be alright. One way or another.” Sucy reassured, but whether her friend believed it or not was another matter entirely. “Come on. We can spend some time together if it’ll help you calm down. Just like old times.” Was it fair to call it old times this early on? Regardless, Lotte nodded into Sucy’s chest in agreement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda crossed her arms and stared judgmentally at Sucy. She still had no reply at Sucy’s bold judgement of both her own and Amanda’s character, but she still had questions. “Ever going to explain what exactly has you trapped Manbavaran? Or are we just going to dance it around it until you can’t anymore.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s a time and place for things Amanda. I could hardly care about secrecy right now, but I need a moment, and so does Lotte.” Sucy began to move Lotte and herself along, reaching the exit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda had to admit, she was right, and exhaled deeply, wiping a hand through her own hair and pacing around a bit. “Alright. Fine. Just, stay safe Sucy, if not for me or yourself, for them, ok? Just try, for a while at least.” She threw her hands to her sides, now at her wits end. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s the plan.” Sucy fully exited the greenhouse with Lotte still in her arms. Lotte had ceased crying, but wanted to be close to her friend; she had hardly prepared herself for this kind of conversation. Then again, neither Sucy nor Amanda were likely prepared for it either. The two roommates shared a few words out of earshot from Amanda, who stayed behind in the greenhouse, before they mounted Sucy’s broom, and flew off to a quieter place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now alone, Amanda simply threw her head back annoyedly and groaned. She wanted this visit to Luna Nova to be something of a last hurrah for the “new nine” as they had been both respectably and mockingly called. Fate just didn’t have it in the cards for them though. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Amanda left the arboretum, with hands dug deep into her jacket, Sucy’s words rang in her ears,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You can keep acting like you’re in control and die unsatisfied, or you can drop your pride and accept you’re just as vulnerable as everyone else.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A sudden gale blew over the campus, and whistled softly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Damn; how the winter air stung.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can’t do O’Neill. I’m sorry. Tried my best, but Finnellan wants you nowhere near this investigation.” Nelson was bundled up in a heavy coat over her usual flight-instructor uniform. A bit of fur and an ushanka hat kept her warm. The one can of beer she allowed herself to indulge in helped as well, and was held close to Nelson’s chest, with the professor otherwise hunched over on the bleachers near the P.E. field. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Night had fallen early, as always in winter, and since five PM, both Amanda and Nelson had been on watch. It was six thirty now, and while Nelson had just explained how Amanda wasn’t formally to take part in the investigation, she wasn’t about to turn down help for a routine patrol. It helped the hours pass by and distract her from the cold, and Amanda was desperate for anyone to talk to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fucking hell. I mean, come on, they’re so worried they gotta keep it all hush, and won’t even accept alumni aid?” Amanda slammed back her second can of beer, and worked to open the next. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t graduate.” Nelson corrected.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well who gives a fuck? You know what I mean.</span>
  <em>
    <span> I’m good at my job, I get shit done.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Shouldn’t that be enough?” Amanda paused to hold her own forehead with one of her hands. “At this point, why’d I even come back?” Were she thinking straight and sober, Amanda would find this defeatist attitude to be a waste of time. One bad run with Sucy, and some strange happenings shouldn’t be putting her down this badly; something less obvious was weighing her down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nelson could only run damage control then. She spoke as calmly as could be, but with an air of tough love and sternness. “Because you’re my friend, you missed me and our flying practice, and you missed your old classmates too. You guys might seem distant, but trust me when I say I’ve never known closer bonds between good people, and I was engaged once!” She sipped at her half finished beer, scanning the treeline for strange movements, occasionally whipping up her binoculars to ensure any birds weren’t in fact flying witches, unfriendly ones at least. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’ve got their own lives to live, Nelson. Maybe I fucked up when I left the academy,” Amanda rubbed at her runny nose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nelson interjected. “Let’s be clear, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> fuck up when you left.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, whatever, I fucked up, but I mean like, maybe it was a mistake to get in the line of work that I did. Sure, getting expelled was bad, but I could’ve tried to make amends I guess. Or just, stuck around Blytonbury. I just…. For some reason, this time around, I’m feeling like I’ve missed my friends too damn much. Like I abandoned them or something.” Amanda cast a long look out to the sky, yearning for something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nelson shook her head, holding her binoculars down by her waist now and judgmentally looking down at Amanda. “Where the hell did that come from? Not to try and invalidate whatever it is you’re going through tonight, but I’ve never seen you express any thoughts like that.” She paused briefly. “I mean, save maybe with Hannah and Barbara.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s who I’m most worried about really…. I know they still love me, that we worked things out,  and would want me to continue workin’ like I do…. But I hope they aren’t just saying that because they don’t think I’ll want to come back if they hound me, or, I don’t know, maybe they think I won’t listen to them, so what’s the point arguing?” Amanda wouldn’t say it, but the comment Diana made earlier about ‘being desirable for </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ did come back and bite her hard; was she just a fling? A nice hook-up? Surely not by any logical measure, but doubt had comfortably roosted itself in her mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda’s third beer went down as bitter as the rest, but far quicker, and Nelson chastised her with a jostle from behind on her left shoulder. “Oi, watch the intake O’Neill.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re not my bartender.” Amanda crushed the can and set it aside with the others. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t care. If I see you drink anything that isn’t water for the rest of the night I’m sending you back to the dorms.” Nelson went back to sky-watching then, but continued the conversation. “So what the hell has you so rattled Amanda?” Perhaps paradoxically, when Nelson spoke her friends first name, it meant she was being more serious. “I passed you and the gang by in the morning and everything was great. You guys were having a good time chatting and looked happier than ever. Why the flip flop?” Despite earlier failed attempts to get Amanda to open up on the matter, Nelson had to keep at it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s nothing major.” Amanda whispered, speaking a bit louder as time went on. “Sucy’s got me and Lotte, and probably everyone else now a bit worried. Something about some dangerous business she fell into…. Talks about it like she may as well already be dead.” Amanda reaches for a fourth can, but remembered Nelson’s warning, and just let her arm go limp. “Just… I don’t know what, but something hit me like a damn semi.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The wind howled, and carried echoes of Sucy’s words through Amanda’s mind again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Or I never had it (freedom) to begin with. I don’t care which it is, because I’m not about to waste time reminiscing and dreaming about what could have been.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nelson turned her eyes from the sky briefly to press the issue. “Feeling a bit like what she said resonated with you eh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda sounds about on the bleachers, straddling it sideways now, and she faced the tree line. “I’m not afraid of what happens to me. I signed up for an exciting life, not a long one. But I’m worried I’ll… that I’ll go and leave behind too much unfinished—“ Her train of thought was lost as a sudden sight from the woods caught her attention. “Business…. Hey Nelson, you see that?” Amanda rose to stand with a bit of wobbling, the alcohol in her system doing no favors. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sight she referred to was a magical flare, flying up past the tree line, into the sky above, and then quietly exploding in starry fashion. The green lights that rained down were like snowflakes, and both Nelson and Amanda were on high alert now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nelson hopped down from the bleachers, spilling her unfinished beer can with little regard, and grabbed for her broom. “Oi, oi, what’s all that mean Nelson?” Amanda’s voice was uncharacteristically nervous and uncertain as she hopped down as well. She began slapping at her own cheeks repeatedly, trying to pull herself together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing good… Green. Green. What was the code for green?” A frantic glancing about from Nelson dinged the lightbulb above her head. “That’s a confirmed sighting. Seems our visitors decided to show themselves!” She straddled her broom and wordlessly took flight a few feet off the ground. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda hurried over and called up. “Hey wait! What do you want me to do about all this? Just walk it off?” She threw her hands up in abject confusion, expecting an answer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nelson simply looked down, “What you think is right, O’Neill.” With no time to spare, Nelson shot off into the forest in pursuit of the distress flare. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well fuck, thanks!” Amanda found that advice </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> informative, kicking the dirt once and letting her arms drop to her sides. ‘Doing what was right.’ Amanda mulled it over for what felt like an hour, but was really only a minute, before she remembered back to her earlier words. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m good at my job. I get shit done.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What even </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda’s job? Her purpose? It came with no title, not any official one at least. Mercenary? She wasn’t cut throat, nor worried about much in terms of pay. A hero? She wasn’t that prideful, or enough of some boot-licking goody-two-shoes to ever accept that label. What she was certain of at that moment though was that her job had three rules: kick ass, keep the people she loved safe, and do both of those by whatever means necessary.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” She hissed to herself, starting to jog, then ran, and then suddenly broke into a sprint. She was heading toward the academy’s equipment house where spare brooms were held. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Want me to do what I think is right?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She rhetorically thought mid stride, having skid up to the small cottage and summarily smashed a window with her elbow. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Then I better not hear shit about property damage.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a raised wand, Amanda made to take on a stance befitting an Olympian preparing to do the long jump. She began running forward, and through magical means, boosted her jump such that she cleared the dive without even disturbing the shards of shattered glass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Any broom did the trick, and from a cabinet full of the bewitched tools, Amanda snatched one, and mounted up. “Typherious phoss!” Amanda shot off toward the broken window like a bullet, having cleared the glass with a violent gust of wind sent from her wand with the spoken words. She was like a comet for a brief picturesque moment, with the glass shards in the air seeming to trail behind her like a tail of stardust. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A favorable wind aided Amanda in speeding toward the now fading site of the flare, and she began to silently curse herself for getting carried away with the booze. The occasional double-image of a tree as she zipped past the towering pines wasn’t a good sign. Shaking her head furiously for a moment, Amanda focused every fiber of her being on flying. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She squinted, spotting distant sparks like dancing flames, but went wide eyed in realization: The distant lights that came into view weren’t remnants of the arcane flare, but of spells being fired off! The aurora of magicks darted across the horizon of trees, and seemed to be heading west at high speeds. She needed to catch up, and fast.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> This called for daring maneuvers, Amanda’s specially, and she rose to the occasion by diving low and then rising high, flying in wave like patterns in order to dodge the many branches, thickets, and bushes that got in her way. Gritting her teeth, Amanda bent down and hugged the broom tight. Her speed nearly doubled, and luckily, she was gaining on the pursuing parties. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Between all the passing blurs of trees and branches, a figure that seemed to be Nelson came into view. Just ahead, a pair of two witches wearing Luna Nova uniforms were neck and neck, and beyond them, a glittering robe of crimson red was just barely in the lead. Of the trio pursuing the crimson trespasser, the duo of students were firing away with various enchantments, trying to block the escapees path with earthen walls, set fire to their cape and presumably the broom they rode, and otherwise harry them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> As Amanda sped past a particularly twisted group of oaks, likely felled by the missed blasts of cast spells, she realized the student duo was in fact Hannah and Barbara! Of all the people that could be in direct danger, this was the nightmare scenario for Amanda. Luckily though, it was her friends and comrades who had the upper hand, so it seemed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now beside Nelson mid flight, Amanda shouted above the harsh winds and the whooshing of passing trees. “If there’s ever a time to fill me in Nelson, it’s now! What’re we dealing with?!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nelson turned, bewildered that Amanda had caught up so quickly. “Nice hustle O’Neill, but I’m about as lost for answers as you! They were trying to tamper with a rune deep in the woods!” A spell came hurling back from the crimson figure, interrupting Nelson’s dialogue. It missed Hannah and Barbara as they skillfully dodged and rose upward. The spell however didn’t seem to be targeting the duo directly, instead striking the ground just behind them. Nelson and Amanda parted briefly to dodge the impact site, expecting some sort of explosion, only to regroup after when nothing immediately occured. “Whatever they’re up to, it can’t be good!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> The spell's true effects took hold then as trees began to animate! They contorted and snapped in strange ways, taking on loosely humanoid forms as malevolent energies surged through their roots. The woodland husks swiped at Nelson and Amanda, and both were nearly smacked right off of their brooms by barky claws and leafy limbs, had they not dipped low to the ground.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nelson and Amanda looked back, confused, before turning their gaze ahead and seeing even more of the forest rising up against them. The twisted treants groaned and bellowed their ancient discontent, and haphazardly swung, swiped, and stomped in the paths of the two witches. The others clawed furiously at the air, trying to reach Hannah and Barbara who were forced even higher above the canopy. With the forest roused to fury, all had lost sight of the crimson witch, having to focus solely on defensive flying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda wasn’t about to give up so easily though, and brandished her wand, spitting incantations through grit teeth. Magic crackled along the implement before shooting off ahead and blasting two treants in half with lightning. Splintery shrapnel forced Nelson and Amanda to cover their eyes as they passed through the opening made from the latter’s spell, and for mercy, found the rest of the forest quieter, and less angry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damnit, we lost ‘em!” Nelson swore, scanning about frantically. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lost them my ass, look!” Amanda, with a keen eye, spotted a figure evading Nelson’s sight. It was a blue clothed mass, flying northward, horizontal from Nelson and Amanda’s perspective. Looking up, the two were greeted by Hannah and Barbara linking up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hannah spoke first, “Amanda, what’re you doing out here?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Barbara continued, “Now’s hardly a time for questions like that, Hannah! Amanda, did you see them?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda gestured in the direction she saw the blue figure speed off towards, hoping it wasn’t the alcohol playing tricks on her. “This way, follow me!” They veered to the right, following Amanda’s lead and began gaining ground on the blue witch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When in range, all four raised their arms, wands at the ready. “Give it everything you got!” Nelson ordered, each having prepared a different spell. Amanda, engulfed her arm in flames that were barely contained, while Hannah readied what seemed to be a fae-hex. Nelson’s words of power called on the winds to create a torrential vacuum, hoping to hurl their target backward, while Barbara spoke the incants to a polymorph spell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hit it!” Amanda gave the order, and the bolts, beams, and winds of combined magicks spun towards the blue witch with terrifying speed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nelson bit her lower lip, and thought: </span>
  <em>
    <span>This was it, we have this one dead to rights! We could finally get some</span>
  </em>
  <span>—RIBBIT.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As amusing as a frog in Nelson’s clothing was in theory, her croaking was the only warning the other three had to get out of the way. Their spells had been reflected, cast back by the witch in crimson who intercepted their pursuit with a great and powerful sigil cast in the air. The woman’s shrill cackling accompanied the screams and shouts from the three younger witches as they broke off in different directions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Amanda’s broom, struck by Hannah’s fae spell, sprouted vines and roots from the hairs, grabbing onto and embedding into nearby trees, causing Amanda to go flying off due to the inertia. Meanwhile Barbara found her own hair on fire from Amanda’s redirected inferno, losing control of her broom long enough in trying to put it out that she collided with a dead oak, doing her best to swerve out of the way. Finally Hannah was caught in the direct center of the blast, sent tumbling back by Nelson’s vacuum, and only able to just barely raise a warding spell in time to shield themselves from the gouts of flame. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda tumbled to the ground in an attempt to roll and soften her landing, feeling a sharp pain and then numbness run through her left arm. Barbara suffered a worse collision, laying on her side in a brief spell of unconsciousness before waking with a murmur, feeling blood starting to well near her forehead. The navy and crimson witches seemed to watch the collision with restrained delight, and Amanda was able to parse some of their words from a distance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is the hard taught lessons that are remembered longest,” “And it is the screams that follow We find fondest!” Shrill giggling ensued. Was this a joke to them? Amanda couldn’t tell who spoke what, and similarly found their tones strange, their accents and ways of speaking were somewhat archaic. She really regretted that third beer now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as she was able to unbury her face from the dirt with a hard shove off the ground into a kneeling position, Amanda saw their quarries had left. She struck the ground with a fist and cursed silently, only to feel Hannah raising her up and into her shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wha—Hannah? Are you?” Amanda started but stopped when interrupted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine. Can you still fly?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? I mean, yeah, I guess—FUCK.” Amanda yelped when her partially dislocated shoulder was held tightly by accident. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hannah immediately stopped and examined the arm. “Amanda!” She exclaimed, holding her lover steady. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda breathed heavily before inhaling deeply as she popped the loose joint back into place. Hannah winched where Amanda yelped in pain. “Fuck! I’m fine!” Amanda shivered, as if trying to shake away the pain. “I’m fucking fine. Ach! Just… Where’s Nelson? Barbara?” The two looked around, relieved beyond belief when Barbara came walking out from a thicket. She was clutching her head, and muttering healing spells taught to her by Diana that at least sealed the bleeding wound.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Even so, the sight of blood sent the other two lovers into a panic as they hurried over, stumbling over each other's words and concerns before Barbara hushed them. “I’m fine! I just… took a bad fall.” Barbara only counted three among them, looking about. “W-Where’s Nelson?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p><em><span>Ribbit.</span></em> <em><span>Ribbit.</span></em><span> As if on cue, the froggy-professor hopped onto Barbara’s shoe and croaked in a strange manner. Was she trying to speak, if so, it was in vain; none of them spoke frog. Barbara knelt down and scooped up Nelson, sighing with relief. “Oh thank god she’s alive.” Hannah and Amanda shared the sentiment, the latter bending over to grab her knees and catch her breath, while the former ran her hands through her hair. Each of them in the meantime looked about in an attempt to regain their bearings.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once she had caught her breath, Hannah spoke up, “It should wear off soon. She’ll be fine. We’re all okay… somehow.” She turned around frantically, searching for her broom before spying it and  hurrying off to gather it and Nelson’s own. “Amanda, come on, we have to keep up with those two!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda guffawed at the statement, raising a waved hand. “Look Hannah I admire your spirit but—“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll watch Nelson. Amanda, just trust her. Trust me! This is the best chance we have of putting this business to rest.” Barbara asserted herself alongside a cacophony of croaks from Nelson, who supposedly was agreeing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda laughed beleagurdly, and straightened her posture, having put her hands at her hips. “Hell… I thought I was supposed to be the daring one.” She took up Nelon’s broom with no further complaints. Both her and Hannah shared one last look at Barbara and Nelson, and silently promised they’d return. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And away they went, up above the canopy, desperately searching for any signs of the trespassers. In time, Hannah whistled to Amanda and pointed toward the edge of the island, where signs of arcane conflict flickered in the night. The combat was high above the forest now, but to both Amanda’s and Hannah’s surprise, there were more than just a handful of witches fighting the mysterious sorcerers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda counted maybe twenty broom-mounted figures, all targeting the crimson and navy witches, but to little avail. Many spells missed, with twin sorcerers shifting in reality, as if teleporting very short distances. Others were reflected or were nullified by overpowering beams of arcane might. Only now was it clear that their foes rode no brooms, but simply hovered in the air, with billowing robes hiding any hint of their legs and lower half.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For all the power the two villains clearly wielded though, they didn’t seem interested in eradicating everyone, or even directly fighting back. It was disconcerting, uplifting, and perplexing all at once, that for all their apparent power, no one had died. Still, something had to be done. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bruised and aching, but determined, both Hannah and Amanda nodded to one another before flying off to join the fray. The minute or so spent approaching was tense, and things only seemed more dire as they drew close. It was clear that the group of twenty or so distant allies were almost entirely comprised of strangers; they wore indigo robes with intricately threaded patterns of gold thread along the arms, back, and down to where the gowns terminated with a lining of gold trim. Only two witches amongst their allies were somewhat recognizable, that being a person whose silhouette reminded Hannah of Finnelan, and a glimpse of a face that Amanda could swear was Sucy’s. But that wasn’t possible, the aforementioned individual was wearing the robes the other strangers were.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Both Hannah and Amanda then shooed any doubts or questions from their mind for the moment, and properly entered the would-be dogfight by firing off some volleys of murowa, and other simple arcane blasts. “Overwhelm them! Just keep firing! Nothing big and fancy, just numbers!” Amanda called out to her allies, who despite not being fully aware of who was giving advice or orders, was heeded. Surely if their foes could overcome even their most powerful casts with ease, then the solution lay in sheer volume rather than raw power. The defenders of Luna Nova rallied, and offered the trespassers only a brief reprieve from dodging and blocking attacks before switching up their tactics. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A storm of bolts burned the sky itself, flashing like intense strobe-lights, as spells were hurled toward the twins from all angles. The villains simply halted their movements, awaiting the assault with barely visible smirks before bracing themselves against a bubble of dark energies. The shadowy bubble that protected them soaked up the magical barrages like a sponge, and only with the resounding calls from a deep voiced man did the defenders cease. “Stop! Hold your tongues!” And so the night went quiet, with raised wands held in sweaty hands, nervously awaiting this standoff to end. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Fates had seemingly suffered no damage, and lowered their raised arms relaxedly. The fluttering capes and robes of all present gave texture to the wind, as both parties sized each other up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda, blunt  as ever, wasn’t about to stay quiet. “We can keep this up all night if you want! Better start talking now!” It was a bluff born from bravado, and The Fates were hardly moved. They said nothing, and simply continued to smile. Amanda presses further, warning some disdainful looks from Finnelan and the others. “This funny to you two clowns?! You gonna do anything?!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause spoke first, her words partially warped when perceived by the witches, as if inhuman or garbled. “Humorous indeed We find,” Then Effect continued, “Your squirming and struggling to be!” And then together. “But the best is yet to come!” Their eyes were squarely focused on something below and behind Amanda, with the Academy as her backdrop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Hannah picked up on it quickly, hearing a sort of wind-like-hissing in the distance. She turned and saw a black mass coming closer, and only too late would she realize just how fast it was moving! “Watch o—!” The thing was too fast; the velocity at which it moved was beyond reason! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hannah had only just begun to move her broom out of the way when it passed by and struck out with a wretched claw like appendage made of chitin, and protruding with pulsing black veins. Though Hannah was somehow directly unharmed, her broom was cut in half, and she began to plummet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda screamed her lover’s name as her allies scattered to avoid the third assailant, or prepared spells to begin attacking once more. It was all in vain though, when the robed being who attacked from below joined the other two Fates, and in unison, they breathed in deeply, and then shrieked like a chorus of banshees. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Any spells in flight fizzled. Ears bled, and the souls of the stalwart defenders of the academy felt a wave of dread, terror, and malice unlike anything they’d encountered before wash over them. Many of them began to careen towards the earth, clutching at their ears, and just barely regaining control of their brooms in time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda was among them, and with tearful eyes, gave all of her strength to the spell which kept her broom aloft that she might reach Hannah in time. In her nosedive, Amanda extended a hand out as far as she could, desperate to save them. Hannah’s screams resounded and echoed in Amanda’s mind, joining the chorus of wails that the Fates were conducting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> It felt as though this was one of her lovers ends, but not before the familiar witch among the indigo clad casters swooped in and managed to prevent Hannah’s untimely impalement upon a pine tree. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda’s broom screeched to a halt, and she hovered in place of the tree line, at a loss for thought. “S-Sucy?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The woman in question, now straining to hold the shell-shocked Hannah in her arms, turned with her broom to face her irksome friend. Only then did the wailing cease.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>“You never listen, do you Amanda?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Did Sucy say that? Her lips didn’t move, and she was bleeding from the ears as well. Amanda shook her head clear, and rubbed her temples in a dazed state. When she looked back to the sky, she noticed the Fates seemed to be casually floating away. Where they were headed is something Amanda couldn’t even hope to posit at that moment, and was hardly something she cared to know either. What she knew though, above all else, beyond the pain and dizziness, was that she wasn’t about to let those bastards get away unscathed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy seemed to shout a warning, but with everyone’s ears still ringing, it only came out as a muffled whisper. Besides, nothing was stopping Amanda now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The world still rang and spun with the fresh memories of hell in audio form. Amanda was hardly even flying straight anymore, but the Fates didn’t seem to notice yet. Her own heartbeat became the first sound to return that broke up the cacophonous echoes, and it raced as she drew closer to her foes. In a grand act of defiance, Amanda wound up a punch, and came right up behind the black robed witch. If Amanda was shouting some battle cry, she couldn’t yet tell, as her mind was still awash in conflicting stimuli. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her target was well aware of the attack, but raised no guard nor readied any counterattack in response. The witch simply turned, revealing her true face with the slow lowering of her cowl. None but Amanda looked on in that instant; they were busy with other tasks and concerns. The wounded needed to be tended, and distance was to be made. It was a full rout. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda though, as the sole witness, froze in wordless horror. Her thrust fist had stopped dead in its tracks. Whether this was the effects of some damnable hex from the black-clad witch, or Amanda’s own fear was unknown. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a thing-that-should-not-be, yet before her it stood. Chitinous mandibles clacked and probed outwards, reaching out to stroke Amanda’s cheek. In this state of psychological moratorium, Amanda could do nothing but </span>
  <em>
    <span>see </span>
  </em>
  <span>the thing, </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> the thing, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>the thing. Tendrils like blood vessels gone gangrenous gurgled speech that, despite the physics of sound and the biology of the being, was perfectly human, and befitting of a young girl. This was as close as the human mind could come to imagining</span>
  <em>
    <span> chaos,</span>
  </em>
  <span> were the concept ever given shape and form. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Such anger and hatred…” A monstrous hand from the witch rose to pinch Amanda’s chin, and despite her best attempts, she was certain now her body was frozen in place by anomalous means. “Such recklessness.” The being blinked with it’s single cyclopean eye, but with every flutter of the eyelids, the shape and color of the iris and pupil changed. She was being examined like a piece of meat, and felt a wretched probing in her psyche as certain memories of her blood-family came to the forefront, seemingly called out from nowhere. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nightmares and visions of doubt clouded Amanda’s mind briefly, and Chaos seemed to spit some coagulated muck to the side when she sensed it, as if disgusted. “Petty fears! Droll aspirations! Dreadfully </span>
  <em>
    <span>boring</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” She rose from a calm volume to shouting insults, and with that, Amanda was backhanded across the face and sent spinning away in the air. The only thing that kept her from plummeting to the earth was her expert broom-handling skills, as she managed to call it to her, and then grab onto it mid fall. From her perspective now, Amanda blinked, and the creature before her seemed more human now, and even its wretched arm, too big for the rest of its body, had shrunk to a more reasonable size. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was barely able to hear what Chaos last said. “We’re leaving! These wretches interest Us not!” Unceremoniously, a tear in reality, made at an angle that seemed to shift based on perspective, ushered the three Fates into a dark dimension. No sooner did it open did it close, and all trace of their arrival was gone, save for the wounds, mental and physical, left upon those who faced them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda grunted and swore sporadically while throwing herself back up onto the broom. She looked down on the scene below and touched her own face, as if to make sure she was still fully there, fearing the </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> had taken something with it. She felt little in terms of wounds from the backhand she received, feeling only a bruise on her left cheek, and wondered why a being that deformed would attack her so </span>
  <em>
    <span>gently</span>
  </em>
  <span>, for lack of a better word. Satisfied with the understanding that she had otherwise gone unmolested, Amanda began to descend slowly toward the academy. The remnants of the wails in the minds of all present receded for now, but would likely always haunt them at the lonely hours of night. There was little left to do now but pick up the pieces, regroup, and pray.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Constanze was up far later than she should be, once again. The clock in the corner of her laptop indicated it was two-twenty in the morning, and she was busy staring at the dreaded email her father sent last week. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was short, simple, and to the point, but it felt like Constanze was looking at a Rossetta stone from a whole other planet. She understood it, but could do little these past few hours save stare and catastrophize. She’d managed to avoid the issue for the whole day ever since Sucy bailed her out of talking to Croix, but it couldn’t be evaded forever. This would be the first time she’d actually read the email beyond its first sentence and the sending email address. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had thought of approaching Amanda for advice on the subject, but for reasons unknown, Amanda was all sorts of bruised up and generally out of it. Constanze had spied on them when peeking through an ajar door to the infirmary, having heard they were last seen there. Hannah and Sucy too seemed terribly shaken up, and for some reason a frog sporting an ushanka was being treated, alongside many strangers, some notably being men.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Luna Nova was a women’s academy, welcoming to all save men, so it was very strange to see any men, witches, warlocks, or otherwise, about the campus. Constanze, like everyone else, knew something weird was going on, but the sight of Sucy in such a tired and beat state had Constanze’s mind buzzing with all sorts of new anxiety fueled hypotheses. And none of that did her any good in trying to think up a reply to this damnable email!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jasminka was comfortably sleeping in the bunk across from Constanze, so despite her desire to groan audibly in frustration, she simply sighed into her hands which held her face. Constanze lowered her body to lay down against her thankfully soft pillow, with her laptop still nestled on her lap. She stared at the ceiling and wracked her brain, trying to focus intently on the subject of family, and what it would mean to see them again. The words from the email played in her mind as if audibly being spoken by her father. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dear ,Constanze:</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We’re very excited to hear that you’ll be graduating from Luna Nova very soon! Myself and your mother both wanted to celebrate, but wished you were around to do so with us. We also would have liked to find out from you and not from a letter sent from professors. I understand you’re not exactly happy to come back home, we both know that. But we’ve done a lot of talking while you’re away. We saw a marriage counsellor for a year, and maybe wrongly kept it quiet from you. I think we’ve both made some important realizations, and if you wanted proof that I’m actually trying here, I’ve been fully sober for two months now. I know I really shouldn’t think of drinking after just saying I was sober, and you never liked wine much anyways, but maybe we could just have a glass together as a family? I can just stick to something non-alcoholic, if it’ll make you more comfortable. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Anyways, we already knew contacting you at all was just going to get you upset, but knew that you’d have to come home eventually anyways since we assumed you didn’t have any other place to stay. Hopefully, this is less stressful for everyone if we settle some matters by email before we meet up in person. We understand we’ve done a lot wrong, and I personally just want to see you again and at least talk to you about what I messed up on. You don’t have to take the family business if you don’t want to. We can discuss what will happen with all of that when you’re back, but just know we don’t want to pressure you like we used to anymore. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We’re certain you’ve grown up to be a beautiful and amazingly intellectual woman, Amalie. We just wish we could get to know her. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Love, Mom and Dad”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It played over and over again for what felt like hours, but when Constanze glanced again at the time it had only been five minutes. She flopped her head back down onto the pillow again and exhaled with resignation. What the hell was she going to do? About any of it; the family, jobs, her passions, Sucy… Why was she suddenly worried about Sucy? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze had seen her in the infirmary but she hardly seemed injured. In a brief moment of clear thought, Constanze rationalized that of all the people she’d miss after leaving Luna Nova, Sucy would be the one she missed the most. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though she wouldn’t be very upfront about these details, Constanze couldn’t deny she felt an attraction to her dearest friend. They shared intimate knowledge of one another, of each other's secrets, and spent long hours just sitting together beneath the academy. They even worked together on various projects, despite usually eschewing outside aid. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thinking of all of this had Constanze’s mind drifting from the subject of family. She thought of Sucy more intensely now: of her smile, her passions, her wit, and her genuine care and interest in Constanze. She thought of Sucy’s hands, and fantasized for a brief moment to be holding them, not as friends, but as—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Snore…. Snore….</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jasminka shifted in her bed, still smiling even when asleep. She had a habit of snoring, and while Constanze could sleep well regardless, it was hard to maintain a flow of thought when it sprang up like that. She was partially startled by the abrupt noise, and rose up, but shook her head and turned her eyes back to the laptop. Having lost her more romantic train of thought, she was forced to think again about less pleasant matters. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze stared at the screen for another twenty minutes, occasionally typing a few sentences before deleting it all. Once or twice she closed the whole laptop only to open it again thirty seconds later, and at some point during this period she watched a five minute long video of cutesie kittens. Only after these many failed attempts to start the reply, avoid the problem, or generally procrastinate, did Constanze begin writing in earnest:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dear Christofer and Andrea</span>
  </em>
  <span>—“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She decided against using her parents first names, feeling it was impersonal. After all, she couldn’t deny that if her father was telling the truth here, maybe there was hope. Hope for a normal family life. Hope for a peaceful coexistence. Hope for old wounds and traumas to finally be treated. Constanze wasn’t about to say she never tried. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dear Mom and Dad,</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m doing well. I’m sorry I didn’t keep you very well informed of my academic progress. School has been stressful but not because it was difficult. Despite that, I’ve most likely passed my finals with adequate scores to graduate.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even when trying to be cordial, Constanze easily slipped into a very sterilized way of communicating her thoughts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I remember that you did not approve of me wishing to attend the academy, so you will have to forgive me for not wanting to talk much about my experiences yet. However, I’m glad that you (dad) have been staying away from the bars and keeping sober. I will endeavor to help you stay on the straight and narrow when I’m back home, for both of our sakes.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze inhaled sharply. Now came the hard part:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Furthermore, I’m genuinely surprised and pleased to hear you’re admitting some form of error. If there was anything that kept me from wanting to converse with either of you, it was the denial. I don’t want to discuss that or any other more serious matters by email. We’ll do it in person. It’s only proper.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Droplets of sorrow silently splashed against the keyboard. Constanze sniffled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“If you’re serious about all of this, I’ll meet you at the airport in Münster.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Love, Constanze”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze couldn’t hold back anymore, and sobbed openly. She wavered on hitting the send button, but eventually followed through. Immediately she felt regret, dread, second guessing, and anger take root in her, but at the same time felt hope, joy, love(?), and pride that she had conquered her fears at that moment. The hurricane of contrary emotions had Constanze burying her head in her pillow, hyperventilating. She cried, but hidden to all the world, she smiled shakily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The heavens wept with her, as snow drifted down to begin coating the land in frozen tears. They wept not for a family reunited, but for the last of the Von Braunchsbanks. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/>
<hr/>
<hr/><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Snowfall</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>SURPRISE! I've finished it a bit earlier! Now thing's will really start to get dicey! The big actiony parts are yet to come, but their fast approaching! I've also endeavored to add another chapter in between this one and what I originally planned to be the next, as I found there's a lot more I wanted to set up than I initially remembered/I realized how much space that would take. Thus, it's better if I just set up another chapter to convey said info in. I just might be a bit shorter than the other's, but I've yet to determine that. As always, your feedback and appreciation is always well received, and please do enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> Ding</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Christofer’s phone vibrated once, and it’s singular chirp became distorted by the mercifully gentle winter breeze. His crunchy steps in the snow halted at the noise, and with gloved hands, he fumbled to reach into his heavy coat and fish out the device, cursing in German as he nearly dropped the thing in the snow. His free hand rose to his face, adjusting his glasses as he moved into more sensible lighting below a street lamp. </p><p> </p><p>It seemed an email had arrived. “Probably Werner.” He spoke aloud to himself, thinking in continuation: <em> “Wondering when the horseshoes will be done probably. Impatient bastard can’t wait a few hours since the last time I told him.” </em>When it became clear the contents of the email were nothing associated with business however, Christofer scratched at his somewhat raggedy beard. </p><p> </p><p>“Huh.” Then he saw the sender's email; it was his daughter!</p><p> </p><p>Christopher nearly dropped the phone again when scrambling to read through it, eyes now wide despite the sting of the season’s air. He had to check it twice, and then a third time before he could believe what he was seeing. All of their efforts weren’t for naught! He started laughing, wiping his eyes just to make sure he got a good and clear look at it. His daughter was coming home; his daughter wanted to smooth things over. Constanze was the proverbial thorn in his and his wife, Andreas’ hearts, and finally, they might be able to reconcile with her. </p><p> </p><p>The couple only realized the depths of their mistreatment three years back, when Constanze had raved for a whole two hours over the phone on every grievance and gripe she had. Sadly, neither Christopher or Andrea could deny the legitimacy behind ninety percent of said complaints. Constanze hated them both at that moment, and her parents knew she had every right to. </p><p> </p><p>Therapy followed, for their marriage as a whole, for Christofer’s alcoholic tendencies, for Andrea’s depression, and for the sake of wanting to make things right with Constanze. All of it had culminated in this moment, or at least, it would begin to. There was still so much to be done.</p><p> </p><p>Christofer did a bit of a skip, and danced awkwardly through the snow on the sidewalk as he reminisced back to his days when he wanted to be a dancer. Remembering back to that youthful dream is what had him realize their error in pushing the business on Constanze, as his father had done with him; it was a wound inflicted across generations. He’d put on quite a few pounds, and he had nearly lost all rhythm and flow to his step, but at two AM in the midst of his own hometown, when nearly all had gone to bed, who was to judge a man dancing poorly out of joy?</p><p> </p><p>He felt young again for once in a long time, and eventually calmed down to catch his breath, having realized just how difficult it was to dance in a less than healthy shape, and while wearing winter gear. He leaned against the wall and slid down slightly until he was seated in the snow, looking up at the sky and smiling widely. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Crunch…. Crunch…. Crunch. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Three heavy footfalls disturbed Christofers silent celebrations, and he quickly turned to his left and then his right, searching for the source. He saw no one, and presumed it to be someone taking out the trash in one of the nearby alleys, only to turn left once more and be struck with sudden fright. </p><p> </p><p>A figure nearly seven feet tall stood where none had just two moments ago, fully clothed in rags and a cowl that left the true shape of their face indecipherable. Two yellow orbs hung in the frame where the being’s face was, and upon closer inspection, Christopher found them to look human, but only somewhat. </p><p> </p><p>He rose, clearing his throat, and stowing away his phone, wiping his rear of any snow in the process. “Ah! Oh, er. Good evening! Mr… Ms.. Might I help you?” He spoke in German first, then repeated the phrase in English. No response came, but the figures eyes clearly were sizing him up. Christofer tried again in French, adding on. “Do you need a doctor? Help? Are you sick? Hurt?” Christofers hometown of Ludinghal never really had a drug problem, or a homelessness one for that matter, but anything can happen anywhere. He persisted, approaching to try and see if the figure before them was well.</p><p> </p><p>He reached a hand out, hoping to lift back the man’s cowl, but found the being to move far too quickly, as the wrapped up mummy-of-a-man drew one arm from the tangled mess of rags, and wielded an ornate claymore in his left hand. Christofer was no weaponsmith, but it had become a field he was knowledgeable about out of necessity and a minor level of interest. It was of fifteenth century make, at least, and sported three ruby jewels in it’s golden hilt. The blade was sharpened, but clearly used as noted by several chips and chinks along the base and near the tip. Christofer had thrown his hands up, backing away and nearly tumbling over, fearing he’d somehow run across a deranged axe, er, sword murderer out of horror cinema. </p><p> </p><p>“Please! S-Stay back! I’ve no intention to harm you. I, I can help you! If you’re hurt we can, get you a doctor! I won’t tell the authorities, promise!” Christofer began to sweat, and as the figure took two slow steps forward, Christofer moved past the reasoning phase to bargaining. </p><p> </p><p>“Money! Is it money you want, here, have it! I’m too happy to care for a few lost coins. Take the cards too, I don’t care!” The sword wielding man could taste Christofer’s anxiety as he spoke, and continued to approach. As Christofer tossed the wallet at the beings feet, it simply looked down before impaling it on their blade. It then brought the sword up and dislodged the wallet from it, looking at the picture Christofer had tucked away of Andrea, and one of Constanze.</p><p> </p><p>Christofer seemed to chuckle weakly. “Yeah, good money there! I think sixty euros total! That’s gotta be enough right?” He was floundering under the pressure, and began looking for ways to escape. Maybe he could outrun the sword-maniac? Or he could hide in a building; were any open? Not in reach. He began to swear under his breath over and over again, knowing that he was almost without options, save for fight and pray. Then the assailant did something that both frightened and upset him far more than what was to come would. </p><p> </p><p>The being pocketed the family pictures and Christopher's ID, earning an uneasy yell in retort. “H-Hey, what’re you doing with that? That’s my wife, my daughter. You, why do you need that?” No response was afforded, and Christofer continued to back up as the being began to smirk. Part of the swordsman’s pale face was now visible in the passing lamp-light; It was a grizzly sight, not from gore or wounds visible on the man, but of how absolutely dead he seemed. He was pale beyond belief, resembling a gaunt cadaver, with just enough meat on his face to maintain a human-esque look. His smile sported one and a half inch fangs, and he had dark brown hair on his head that was mostly well kept. </p><p> </p><p>“Look, you do whatever to me. You have my money. You want more? I’ll get more. I’ll get whatever, but you, you put that down! You give me that back!” Christofer held out a hand to receive his family photos, raising his voice further now, but still being clearly addled by fear. “You don’t have to do this y’know. Not my family. If your mess is with me then we keep it that way.” He wasn’t about to question or care about why a vampire like being that was assailing him; all he cared for was protecting his family. When the vampire quietly chuckled, and continued to approach, Christofer raised his fists like he was ready to get in a pub-brawl. His veterancy from bar fights was the only good thing to come out of his addiction, it seemed, as he sported a solid boxer’s stance. “I’m warning you!” Again, the vampire laughed, louder now.  </p><p> </p><p>It was all or nothing then, as Christofer  rushed forward, feinting a left hook, but committing to the right. He just needed a solid punch, enough to daze the man, and then he could run and get help!</p><p> </p><p> His best attempt though was pathetically dismissed. Christopher felt the bridge of his nose crack into far too many pieces, and began bleeding heavily from the wound. It was a quick jab from the vampire that had sent Christofer onto his back, howling and sobbing.</p><p> </p><p>Nearby canines yelped from their windows as the vampire cast off the set of rags in full, letting the wind carry them wherever it willed. He spoke in German, but bore an old, austere, Hungarian accent. “Von Braunchsbank… This is what has become of you? Tch, tch, tch.” He was a warrior clad in dulled silver armor, save his head, and a fine black cape billowed in the wind behind him; he was a dark knight out for blood. His jaw was strong and rectangular, with his cheekbones being finely pronounced, matching the rest of his otherwise stocky and muscled physique beneath the armor. Though appearing as a brute from a cursory glance, it was clear he endeavored to maintain a gentlemanly air about his person, possessing a precariously maintained set of thin eyebrows, and a well combed head of hair that reached down just above the nape of his neck in the style of an olde noble or statesman. The only marring detail visible was a semi-circle shaped scar formed around the right side of his neck; a reminder of the battle that saw his bloodline disgraced, and his queen, his mother, sealed away.</p><p> </p><p>Foul energies surged from the nearby alley, and Nikolai remembered back to the first meeting he had with The Fates, for the aura about the air was now the same. </p><p> </p><p>Without turning, Nikolai regarded Will, whom had led him here. “Is this truly our quarry? Have our old enemies truly sired offspring this… pudgy and weak?”  Christofer still couldn’t respond, and was stuck holding what remained of his nose with both hands. He was barely able to rise off the ground, let alone call for help coherently, and simply resorted to crawling away. A host of six knights, fully clad, emerged from the shadows ahead though, and gave Christofer pause.</p><p> </p><p> Each wielded a less impressive sword than Nikolai’s, but equally deadly nonetheless. They were held ceremonially in both hands at chest height, pointed toward the sky. Each bore a cape that flowed from their left shoulder, reaching down to their elbows, and had the heraldry of the Bathory bloodline stitched into their center. </p><p> </p><p>They marched in lockstep, and pointed each of their weapons down at Christofer. He froze, and reached up with a hand, silently pleading for mercy. Were it not for Nikolai’s raised hand at that moment, Christofer’s life would already have ended. </p><p> </p><p>“By all accounts and sources at The Fates’ disposal, this is whom you seek.” Will shuffled forward through the snow, standing beside Nikolai before continuing. “Your vengeance awaits. Take it as you see fit.” She wished to be done with this business; there were more important matters to tend to. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai spat into the snow. “He is worthless! Truly this is the worst specimen I have seen in a long while…. This is not vengeance, this is more akin to…. Oh… Culling a diseased lamb.” He displayed genuine disappointment and anger at this. He wanted a fight out of the Von Braunchsbanks! This <em> thing </em> could never provide him a battle worth his time; it could hardly take a punch let alone run away! The prospect of killing Christofer was beyond beneath him; it was beneath his servants, and their unborn children, and those children’s unborn children. This would not do, for neither he, his siblings, his brood, or his mother would find any joy in such a pitiful death, and then claiming somehow that their vengeance had been taken from said murder. </p><p> </p><p>No, Nikolai would have something more for his troubles. Will insisted however, as she sensed his hesitancy. “Our bargain is kept. Kill him. Your dark lady is no doubt impatient, as are We.”</p><p> </p><p>Nikolai dismissed her with a palm pressed in Will’s direction, and she scoffed. “Your bargain is kept, yes, yes. Only in part. I believe that, while it is true that this is a son of the Von Braunchsbank line, his life alone is no longer satisfactory payment in her majesty's eyes.” Will grinded her teeth audibly. Nikolai continued. “Instead… We ask that you bring here what monstrous beings you’ve already rounded up into your services. Unleash them. Let them run wild and free over this town. Join me in the hunt and let none escape. I have seen this man to possess a wife, and daughter. They lurk here no doubt…. Perhaps he has siblings? They too must live close by.” The proposition was tantalizing from Nikolai’s perspective, and he rubbed at his chin while imagining the feast that this town could become; he was growing hungrier. His murderous fantasies began to play in his mind like a vaudeville production, bringing his expression to twist more and more to suit his sadistic desires. “We will wipe their legacy from the earth.... The very memory of their existence shall be struck from history!”</p><p> </p><p>Christofer, meanwhile, flailed slightly at the mention of Nikolai’s desires, swearing at him and begging him to stop. A swift kick to the head from one of the six knights dazed him, silencing any further resistance. To Nikolai’s delight, his prey was still awake.</p><p> </p><p>Will spoke in a somewhat distorted fashion, as if fire was upon her tongue, and power surged through every word. “A pact made is a pact <em> kept </em> , Nikolai. We have given you no more and no less than you have asked. <em> Take it, </em> and be satisfied.”</p><p> </p><p>Nikolai cocked their head to turn backward, all sadistic joy having briefly gone from his visage. “Ah, but how simple this would be; truly someone of <em> your </em> power and ability would find my request to be trivial, no?” His face turned to a more fierce grimace then, and he snarled back. “Or have you forgotten you <em> need </em> us to exact your own vengeance, witch! Her majesty will <em> not </em> go unsatisfied! That is our pacts’ new terms!”</p><p> </p><p>Will deflated slowly, her presence growing hot, and her very breath melting the snow around her in a circle; she was like a venting steam engine. Now was not the time to be petty; she remembered back to her own words. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Pride has failed us before….” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And so she sucked up the indignity, and nodded, now speaking plainly as she had before. “You will have your slaughter. Pray that We continue to suffer your kind’s childishness with little complaint.” </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai chortled. “But of course, witch. We are not so dishonourable as to <em> betray </em> a partnership. We simply… know well what is due for services rendered.” He looked back to Christofer then, shaking his head and sighing. “Oh….” He looked to the identification he stole from Christofer’s wallet, only to toss it to the wind once finished. “Christofer…. Sweet, pathetic Christofer. How unprepared you are for the sins of your fathers to all come calling. Were I not a man loyal to his lord’s crown, I would allow you to flee. Instead, do accept my sincerest apologies for this.” His genuine tone juxtaposed his wicked glare. Nikolai lifted his hand, silently ordering the six knights to raise their blades above their heads in unison.</p><p> </p><p>Christofer gained just enough cohesion to beg one final time. “Please… not.... Andrea. Constanze….” Nikolai flatly lowered his signalling hand, and it was done. All six blades collided with one another somewhere in Christofer’s head, which from the force of the strikes, had become near unidentifiable. The dead father’s stiff arm fell limp, and the first of many bloodings had ended. </p><p> </p><p>By the time the towns’ church bells struck thrice, whooping gurgles, wretched screams, and the unholy clamour from all manner of foul things drowned out the chimes; Ludinghal was ablaze.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>Amanda shuffled her way into the principal's office, where her tired eyes met equally exhausted individuals. All present had fought against the three beings that infiltrated the academy, or were otherwise related to the investigation as a whole. Notably, Diana, Headmistress Holbrooke, Finnelan, Sucy, Hannah, and Ibrahim were present, alongside several less renown staff, and ten of Ibrahims’ agents. </p><p> </p><p>There was hushed whispering between the gathered individuals, but mostly, all was quiet. Amanda was the last one asked to join them, to Finnelan’s dismay, and leaned herself up against the now closed doors behind her. </p><p> </p><p>Holbrooke nodded once, closing her eyes as she began to speak somberly. “Everyone is accounted for. Good. Let us not tarry further.” She gestured weakly with her cane to Ibrahim. “Though he has no doubt spoken with most of you by now, allow me to introduce you all to Ibrahim Berrada.” Everyone regards him as either a known figure, or with a respectful gaze given to any stranger in such an official setting. </p><p> </p><p>He bows his head, but says nothing more. “He, and his fellow witches and warlocks, have been enlisted to aid Luna Nova in securing itself against these hostile threats. He is a part of a magical society known as <em> The Antiquarians </em>; they protect contain threats to the mundane world spawned from magic, and vice versa. They act on behalf of the Council of Nine, and are here to aid in securing Luna Nova from this group that threatens us.” The Council of Nine was the de-facto leading body present world wide as far as witches and warlocks were concerned, though only recently, with magic’s revival, have they become active again.</p><p> </p><p>“I know that to many, this comes as a surprise, but this arrangement was made soon after the strange happenings began…. We hoped that the situation would not sour enough to warrant his arrival. Our hand was sadly forced.”  Holbrooke concluded her explanation, and backed away from the center of the gathering, returning to her seat at the headmistress’ table. </p><p> </p><p>None are happy to learn this, or meet the man they knew had been aiding them, and Ibrahim’s tone reflected this understanding. “Greetings, and thank you; all of you. I know you’ve done what you could to preserve the peace and sanctity of the academy, but sadly, we’re dealing with powers more dangerous than initially thought.” Ibrahim was a man of Morocco, twenty eight years of age, and his accent reflects this. His skin is a dark brown, and his hair seemed to be naturally curly, but it was shaved to only be barely an inch thick. He stood at around five foot ten, and was of lean build, though the muscle he does possess is hidden beneath the robes of his coven. </p><p> </p><p>He was grim, but bore an unbeatable optimism beneath the frown, not dissimilar to Akko’s, but he was clearly far more stoic and in control of their humors than the aforementioned student. He continued to speak, approaching the center of the room as any natural orator would. “But we ask you not to panic. Just as fear among the student body would cause complications, so would it among the professors.” He turned as he gave his speech, ensuring he faced everyone now and again.</p><p> </p><p>As the speech was given, Amanda rolled her shoulders, relieved that her headache had gone, and hoping that everyone else was similarly free of that damnable wailing. What made her more glad though was the prospect of getting answers, and of being use to the team. Hannah sidestepped beside Amanda then, and the two gently held one another by the waist from either side, looking on expectantly for Ibrahim to continue. However bad things were, at least they had each other, regretting that Barbara could not attend and stand with them due to her unconscious state.</p><p> </p><p>Ibrahim allowed everyone a moment more to soak up his words before continuing. “I ask you this because I fear what we witnessed tonight was nothing but a drizzle to herald the oncoming downpour. Our enemies were acting with a clear desire to remain hidden and secretive in the past, but now it is obvious that the time for such pleasantries is done. Whatever objectives they may have had that relied on our ignorance must be completed for them to attack us so brazenly.” He gestured with his arms outstretched while speaking, and despite the dire news, his confidence never waned. </p><p> </p><p>Diana, who had been lightly pacing back and forth the whole while, broke from the pattern to offer her opinion. “Though, ‘attack’ may not be the best word to describe it.” She faced Ibrahim who faced her in turn and gestured understandably, bidding she continue. “All of their attacks were either aimed to disable or befuddle us. Even when striking someone physically, I noted from afar that, where they could have easily killed several over our comrades, they chose instead to simply break their brooms.”</p><p> </p><p>Hannah spoke up, unnerved by the ordeal, but feeling her experience was pertinent. “That witch’s arm…. It was <em> way </em> too big. And it was like a claw from some creature you read about in horror novels.” She looked down and pressed herself against Amanda, deliberately breathing in three times and nodding, stabilizing her nerves. “I should have been dead.” Amanda comforted her quietly, and bit the inside of her cheek, knowing well that Hannah was right. </p><p> </p><p>Diana offered her own sympathies. “As glad as I am to know one of my closest friends is still safe and well, this event offers the most solid evidence yet that supports a hypothesis I’ve been working on.” Diana went back to pacing, finding it helped her think. </p><p> </p><p>Ibrahim regarded Hannah first. “If you would like to leave, you may. I understand this is a traumatic event. A few of my brothers and sisters in the coven had to excuse themselves to… quiet the screams. You would not be judged for stepping away.” He was kind and caring in his town, and he held his hands at his waist wrapped around one another, patiently awaiting a response. </p><p> </p><p>Hannah merely shook her head though, and Amanda continued to hold her close; the best place for her was here. Ibrahim nodded, and turned attention to Diana then. “This hypothesis of yours, tell us what you think. Any solid leads will help immensely.”</p><p> </p><p>Diana continued to pace while speaking. “I can offer no proof beyond what we’ve witnessed; where I would like to experiment and test this theory properly, the situation at hand denies us that luxury. But, what I believe is happening is in part because our enemies are incapable, or otherwise unwilling, to kill or attack us directly in any way that may lead to a death or mortal wound.” </p><p> </p><p>Sucy offered her critique with a raised half shrug. “But Hannah was nearly killed, and that scream nearly sent half of us into a tailspin. That’s enough proof for me that they show a clear desire to see us dead.” Holbrooke and Finnelan agreed, and offered nods alongside some of the other professors. </p><p> </p><p>“What has me suspicious though, is the fact that these events would only <em> indirectly </em> lead to a death or injury. Allow me to explain:” She raised a finger and ceased pacing to clarify her point. “All events that occur based on cause and effect principals, and magic is just as reliant on it as science. When talking about attributing blame though, or claiming that a certain cause has had more hand in leading to a certain event, things get… tricky. This very dilemma is what led magical philosophers to formulate the concept known as <em> degrees of separation </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda rolled her eyes, not really thrilled to get a philosophy lesson from Diana of all people. “Yeah because that’s how normal people think, sure.”</p><p> </p><p>Diana shook her head. “We’re not talking about mundane laws and norms between people, Amanda. We’re talking about rules that could be either ideologically guiding our foes, or literally preventing them from taking certain actions.” Diana turned to Finnelan and bid she respond to the following: “I believe it was in a lecture of yours in November, in which you discussed the principles of degrees of separation, and their application in understanding magical contracts and pacts, correct?”</p><p> </p><p>Finnelan stepped forward. “Aye. And if I am correctly understanding what you’re implying:” She paused to regard her own memory, pursing her lips. “Then our foes may only cause us significant damage when there are at least… by my estimate, three degrees of separation. In the case of Ms. England for example,” Finnelan gestured to Hannah. “The witch struck her broom with her arm, an act that has no degrees of separation in relation to cause and effect. Her falling to the ground however, is always one degree of separation away from the strike that broke her broom.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda moved her shoulders up and her expression was scrunched in confusion, unsure of how this information was useful. Sucy wasn’t very interested in understanding every possible detail either. “Finnelan, with all due respect, this is a time sensitive issue.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmmph. Fine, I shall speed this along. The event of Ms. England falling is separated firstly because gravity is at work, and the witch who struck her was not influencing the gravity of the space she was in. The degrees continue to add up when you consider other factors as well.” Finnelan gestured to all present. “Had Ms. Manbavaran, or anyone else for that matter <em> not </em> made an attempt to save Ms. England, despite being able to do so, another degree is added on to the equation by way of negligence. Then the third degree can be found in Ms. England’s own magical talents. I’m certain that if she was able to calm herself she would have been able to cast a spell that would save her life and spare her any injury.  Thus, it can be argued on a fundamental level that the witch who attacked her is so minorally at fault that she is not able to be implicated in the event taking place as the prime cause. Not significantly enough that any rules or laws that Ms. Cavendish is describing would be in violation.”</p><p> </p><p>“I thought you said this would be the short version, teach.” Amanda groaned and held half of her face in one hand. </p><p> </p><p>Finnelan shook very slightly in frustration and raised her voice. “Had you more patience than a <em> house fly </em> , perhaps you could stand to listen to someone else speak for more than a few moments, <em> Ms. O’Neill. </em>” Diana gulped, feeling this could only get worse from here.</p><p> </p><p>“Got any new ones? Think you tried that one one me last time we argued you damn hag.” Hannah urged Amanda to stop, whispering quietly to her after the insult was thrown. Amanda simply dismissed it for now, happy to just have the final word, ignorantly assuming this wouldn’t continue further.</p><p> </p><p>Where Ibrahim and Diana were about to reorient the conversation back to more pressing matters, Finnelan proudly stepped toward Amanda, and continued to berate her. “Never have I met a more <em> petulant </em> student or woman in my life! Honestly, you do not even belong in this room! You only put others in jeopardy, and will compromise the safety of this whole operation!” </p><p> </p><p>All bets were off then, as Amanda lurched forward, now residing just inches away from Finnelan’s face. “Tough talk comin’ from a spindly crone! At least I actually got in close to see who the fuck we were dealing with here; <em> but wait </em> , I’m just a trouble maker, so <em> clearly </em> what I have to say doesn’t fucking matter! Go choke on a hairball ya uptight bint!” That last bit she learned from the Blytonbury pub. </p><p> </p><p>The room descended into a brief chaos as professors began to berate Amanda and Finnelan for varying reasons. Even Hannah was now yelling at Amanda, and by this point, there wasn’t any cohesion to the meeting. Diana, Ibrahim, and Holbrooke all tried their best to diplomatically gain control of the situation to no avail. </p><p> </p><p>Eventually, Sucy tired of waiting, after having stood silently in the yammering crowd for a solid thirty seconds. Her expression slowly wound up in clear anger and she lifted her wand in order to fire a Murowa spell at the ceiling, sending bits of wood shrapnel down; she could care less about the damage. “SHUT UP!” The room fell deathly quiet then, as Sucy glared at every individual in the room with a harsh and judgemental stare. “Shut. Up…. Honestly, are you all children? I thought we were here to <em> accomplish </em> something. Are we going to do that, or waste our time bickering?” </p><p> </p><p>None responded directly, and most notably, even Finnelan seemed ashamed and embarrassed with herself. “I’ll excuse myself.” It was the only respectful thing to do in the situation, which is exactly why Amanda didn’t even consider following suit. Everyone else generally returned to their former position, forming a circular crowd in the room once more.</p><p> </p><p>Diana quietly called on repairing magicks to fix the damage done to the roof of the room while Ibrahim spoke. “Thank you, Sucy. Though, please mind the collateral.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll consider it if we can start acting serious.” Sucy stuffed her wand away somewhere in her Antiquarians’ robes, resigning to the back wall before speaking one final time. “You and Finnelan have good points. I think we can all agree something’s up there, and that it’s an exploitable weakness. But even then, they seemed to move too quickly and were way too fast with their reactions and casting to be caught off guard.”</p><p> </p><p>Diana exhaled, relieved to be back on track. “Where this is true, I wanted to discuss the theory if only so we could be more prepared should they face us again. Our focus instead should lay with what we discovered them tending to.” She looked at Ibrahim expectantly, and he obliged.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes; the runes. cryptic and otherwise indecipherable, but they’re runes nonetheless. We have no solid information regarding their purpose or function, and thus will be conducting an investigation alongside Ms. Cavendish here and assisting professors. Where the hidden nature of the aforementioned symbols brings us as a great deal of concern, what we wished to settle here and now is centered more around the safety of the student body.”</p><p> </p><p>Ibrahim gave pause, allowing everyone to absorb the information before continuing. “It is in my honest opinion, that if nothing else, if Luna Nova were to be threatened existentially, then it’s only concern should lie in protecting the young witches it sought to educate.” He raised his expression up from the ground, doing his best to hold his spirits high. “And we fear that, while we’re unaware of our enemies objective, it is clear that we risk the lives of nearly two thousand persons by remaining here.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda, alongside all others, had been rightly put in their place at that moment, as the gravity and reality of the situation sank ever deeper into their cores. Again, Amanda lamented the fact that of all the years for everything to go south, it was the year of her friends graduation. Now was meant to be a time of change for the better, but everything was just wrong; wrong like the face of the witch who struck her.</p><p> </p><p><em> “You can keep acting like you’re </em>—</p><p> </p><p>“Shut it!” Amanda hissed just below her breath upon hearing the mental soundbite of Sucy play in her head once again. Holbrooke, who had just started to speak, paused, and she along with the others turned to face her. “N-Nothing… it’s nothing. I’m just on edge, nervous. I’ll be fine.” Hannah could tell when Amanda was lying instantly and despite Hannah’s somewhat hidden frustrations, she was concerned for Amanda’s well being, and squeezed her left arm.</p><p> </p><p>Holbrooke picked back up then. “We understand, Ibrahim, and we thank you for your counsel…. But you must understand that this will be the first time in nearly three centuries since Luna Nova has failed to conduct a graduation ceremony and any associated rituals. Once the academy is vacated, there will be no way we can come back in time to properly conduct the event given the way stars have aligned this year.” The diminutive and wizened principal turned around, and looked out over the night sky from her office window.</p><p> </p><p>Holbrooke continued as though she were longing for days gone by. “It will be a great shame that we will bear, but more importantly, the academy is already under strict scrutiny from English officials. Many of which wish to see the academy brought under formal control of the British state, or otherwise dismantle it. Were we to flee from the academy, and admit that we are unable to protect our student body, there will be nothing that prevents Luna Nova from being destroyed with or without the threat of the strange and powerful forces that assail us.” </p><p> </p><p>The staff began to murmur rumors, concerns, and doubts of all kinds, finding the prospect both unthinkable, but all too real at the same time. Ibrahim did his best to quiet their fears. “This is why I warned you against despair, Headmistress. It’s all too easy to get lost in doubt. I ask you, all of you, to understand that Luna Nova’s legacy transcends stone and wood. The non-magical world can try to chain us away and commodify traditions and cultures to suit their own means, but the essence of those traditions and cultures will never be lost; it will never fade.” His voice rose in volume and confidence as his address was given. </p><p> </p><p>After turning about slowly while holding a hand out as if to call on all present to listen, he finished his sentiment. “Luna Nova can be rebuilt, away from greedy hands and prying eyes. We must look to the future when at risk of losing everything in the present.” Ibrahim placed a gentle hand on Holbrooke’s shoulder and knelt down beside her, now looking up at the sky as well. “But life cannot be won back. There is no rebuilding a person…. Out of respect for you, your position, and the weight of the events unfolding, I give you two days. Within this time, we will conduct the investigation into the runes as planned, and seek out a way to dismantle or disarm them. Should the second sunrise come two days from now though, with no solution in sight, we will demand a decision.”</p><p> </p><p>Holbrooke knew well that, despite being given a choice, Ibrahim had no intention of actually allowing the students to remain at the academy beyond the two day grace period. Nevertheless, she appreciated the gesture, understanding Ibrahim has his own oaths to keep. “Thank you, Ibrahim. You are too kind…. Please, do what you must to ensure the academy’s safety. Do what you will, but in the meantime, I must speak with my colleagues. There are letters to write; lives that need to be ensured to continue on outside of these walls.” There was time needed to grieve as well, for her own perceived failings, and for her time as headmistress coming to an end. </p><p> </p><p>Ibrahim understood well enough, and rose from his kneeling position. “As you say.” He turned about suddenly, his indigo garb fluttered briefly, and he held a hand outward when speaking his commands. “Antiquarians, I want you to fan out and secure the perimeter of the school. Signal the second and third covens to arrive via Ley Line portal and relay these orders: Team two will focus on ensuring none of the students wander from the campus, and if the hostile entities show up again, will repel them at any cost. Team three will assist Diana Cavendish and any others in researching the mysterious runes. Initiate,” Ibrahim turned to Sucy directly, who stepped forward in turn. “You’re with me and the research team. You’ve got a keen eye for the esoteric and dangerous.” </p><p> </p><p>Sucy nodded, feeling some disappointment in being called on for her strengths, as if loathing the predictability. “Got it.” She shuffled on beside Ibrahim who then directed the Luna Nova staff. </p><p> </p><p>“Professors, see to working with the Headmistress on any concerns you may have, and work to keep the students calm; they may feel unsafe due to the sudden influx of strangers. Ensure them we’re doing everything we can to keep them safe.” Even when commanding strangers Ibrahim strived understanding and caring, while never sacrificing the firmness needed to be a strong leader. The staff didn’t question their orders, and sought to organize themselves outside as to ensure all necessary tasks were being accounted for.</p><p> </p><p>When they had left, Ibrahim gestured for his Antiquarian allies to move out, with Diana and Sucy joining them. He remained behind however, now alone with Hannah and Amanda. “I was hoping actually to speak with you in private, Amanda.” He wasn’t formally introduced to her, but had heard it in passing during the commotion from earlier. </p><p> </p><p>Hannah and Amanda both shared a slightly confused look, with Hannah speaking first. “If you want, we can talk later.” It was gestured toward Amanda, who turned back to face Hannah. “Now might be a bad time…. And I want to check up on Barbara.” She twiddled her thumbs, having folded her hands together at her waist. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda rubbed the back of her head while cocking it to the right, looking away from Hannah as she spoke. “Uh, yeah. Definitely.” She wasn’t looking forward to smoothing things over, but there was no avoiding it. What she felt most of all now was regret for letting Finnelan pull her into that argument so easily; it was embarrassing. “I want to go and see her too. I’ll join you if uh, Ibrahim doesn’t need me for something. But for all our sakes, please don’t stay up all night. Just get like, two hours at least ok?”</p><p> </p><p>Hannah nodded and turned her gaze down and to the left, looking at the floor as she held back what she really wanted to say. She sighed, reconciling that their relationship matters needed to be set aside for more important business. Hannah offered a hug to Amanda, who admittedly wished to give a bit more, but was never one to push boundaries with friends or lovers. After they had finished the embrace, Hannah left, giving the two one last longing look before gingerly closing the door. </p><p> </p><p>Now truly alone with Ibrahim, Amanda pulled up a chair, exhaling heavily as she expected to be given both barrels in reprimand. She lazed into the chair, rolling her neck twice as she spoke with resigned content. “Alright. Lay into me with your worse. Do I need to sign something? You guys like magic cops?” She jerked her head back and pursed her lips, realizing what she just said, and following the insinuation to its logical conclusion. “Am I going to like, witch prison like that dork Croix?” </p><p> </p><p>Ibrahim laughed richly, having pulled up his own chair in the meantime, sitting in an upright but somewhat relaxed posture now that the pressure of a full audience watching him had gone. “No, no, and… maybe?” He raised his open palms upon seeing Amanda go wide eyed. “Ah! Not a maybe about the jail part, more of a ‘maybe’ regarding the ‘cop’ comment. I… don’t wish to associate our organization with such a brutal concept or institution. But, I suppose, yes, we do conduct ourselves in a vaguely similar manner.” Ibrahim clapped his hands together, somewhat at a loss for other words to describe it on the fly without losing himself to pointless rambles and unneeded explanations. </p><p> </p><p>“Phew. I could survive jail, but I could <em> not </em> survive Hannah and Barbara once I got <em> out </em> of jail.” Amanda wiped her brow and returned to a more relaxed posture. She shared an uneasy laugh with Ibrahim.</p><p> </p><p>“Close friends?”</p><p> </p><p>“Lovers. They’re my everything.” </p><p> </p><p>Ibrahim nodded, smiling wider now. “Always good to have people you can trust with your heart. They keep us honest, safe.” He rubbed his nose, refocusing on Amanda after he had collected his thoughts. “Now, you’re not in any trouble, to be clear. Let’s start there.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda infectiously smiled now. “Well I’m already liking where this is going then.” </p><p> </p><p>“I can imagine. Anyways, what I wanted to talk to you about is… well, two things. First, a note on confidentiality, and a need for secrecy. And secondly, it’s about what you saw; <em> their face </em>.” Ibrahim curled his lower lip inward biting it as he spoke of the second topic. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda was similarly uncomfortable recalling what she had seen, but knew that there would be time to cope and bitch about it later. “Right, so let's start with the easy thing first, yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure.” Ibrahim straightened his posture, folding one leg over the other. “So, for the sake of security, we’re going to have to ask you to keep quiet on what you’ve been through so far. At least with non-magical and magically uninclined individuals or groups. I’d liken our status to say any nation’s given <em> secret service. </em>” He raised air quotes to accentuate it. “They’re about as secret as that western urban legend, Bigfoot. Everyone knows he’s real.” Amanda nodded, understandably until she realized what he said, leaning in and looking bewildered beyond belief. </p><p> </p><p>Ibrahim laughed and clapped twice, having dropped the stonewalled tone he’d used to deliver the joke. “Ahah! That one, that one never gets old.” For a man supposedly part of a ‘magical secret service,’ he was certainly very casual when not leading his comrades. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda eased into laughter and threw her arms up and then let the fall relaxedly onto the arms of the chair. “Alright, you got me. Now, let's get serious yeah?” It was an earnest and polite request; a rarity from Amanda when speaking to authority figures. </p><p> </p><p>“Aye, aye.” Ibrahim cleared his throat and wiped his face, taking on a more serious tone and visage. “As I was saying, we aren’t secretive in terms of our existence. Anyone with enough of a want to search for us could find us easily, or at least some glancing information related to us. What we need to keep secret though are the specifics of this investigation:”  He gestured idly to her with an open hand. “The nature of the attacks, the cause of any injuries, mention of spells or magical items witnessed amidst our activities; all of this is kept under wraps.” Amanda nodded along, waiting to see where this was going.</p><p> </p><p>Ibrahim gently placed his left fist into his extended right palm, accentuating his point: “One of our primary goal is to prevent the mundane world from weaponizing magic to fit it’s own ends, or to prevent them from wiping out the practice entirely. Thus, information that could be used to meet such ends cannot be allowed to roam about freely. Usually this isn’t a problem for most witches; they know not to sell out their kind, and they know that the powers that would pay them handsomely for information are unlikely to be earnest in their dealings.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda leaned forward into her seat, resting her arms on her knees as she took a guess at what was coming next; an informal swearing of secrecy:  “Can I trust you to keep this all confidential? If the mundane world <em> really </em>must know, leave it to the professionals to tell them.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda drooped her head downward, sighing at the notion of not being a professional. She had no delusion that she was, but she always loathed being undermined and made to feel weak. Ibrahim was of course unfamiliar with Amanda and thus spoke shakily on seeing her seem upset. “Er, beyond that, while your help is appreciated, know we can’t… formally compensate you, or otherwise <em> repay </em>you should something happen. We’re dealing with life and death scenarios here. You saw as much as I did how dangerous a job we thought would be simple could get.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda simply shrugged and picked her head up to properly address Ibrahim. “I’ve been at cleaning up magical mishaps for a few years now. Nothing big-time, but nothing to sneeze at. I doubt I’m on your group's radar, but I’ve contained a few rough customers and rowdy artifacts along the way.” She thumbed toward herself, her confident smile returning, “Don’t worry about me. I’ve come to terms that my life’s going to be exciting, not long.” </p><p> </p><p>Where she wanted to feel confident in that sentiment,  Sucy’s words had dug up long buried seeds of doubt in Amanda’s soul. She <em> hated </em> how much those words upset her.</p><p> </p><p>Ibrahim opened his eyes further, showing greater interest now. “Well, we can’t keep track of every witch, but we also appreciate lone operators such as yourself doing good work out there. We… formally advise against vigilantism, but also, between two sensible adults, no single organization can account for a whole world's population.” He was glad at least to have someone relatively experienced working alongside him, but still, the more pressing questions remained. “So I have your agreement then? Regarding the quiet nature of things?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda gave a thumbs up. “Yeah. Sure. Could give less of a damn about money anyways. Suited fucks couldn’t offer me nothing I’d want that I didn’t have.” </p><p> </p><p>“You’re American right? You strike me as… a cowboy. Cowgirl?” Ibrahim chortled. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda nodded, putting on her texan airs briefly. “You got it partner. Got my loves, got my wand, got my broom, and I got a whole wide world to explore. Never a dull week.” </p><p> </p><p>“I think the last <em> quiet </em> week I had was years ago,” Ibrahim smirked. “I still don’t miss it.” He and Amanda shared a smile before Ibrahim cleared his throat and expression. “Now… about what you saw. Care to enlighten me?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda sputtered, blowing air out as she gathered the vague snippets of memory that remained; the rest seemed to be driven deep and buried, like a childhood trauma. Despite the protests from her mind she recalled it clearly enough. “It was bug like. Really fucking ugly. It had one big eye. It? She? He? I don’t damn well know, but that witch had one big eye, and it changed.” She shuddered and shivered; for how much she thought of herself as a hardened fighter, there was little that could prepare anyone for that kind of encounter. </p><p> </p><p>“Changed?” Ibrahim seemed to be taking mental notes.</p><p> </p><p>“Whenever she blinked.” Ibrahim nodded and bid Amanda to continue with a gesture of his hand. “And it looked like she was, really just not human. Looked like some alien, a bug mixed with a fish and a bird, but with like. no feathers.”</p><p> </p><p>“A bird?”</p><p> </p><p>“It… kinda had a beak? I dunno. Is that information really important?” Amanda threw her hands up, failing to see where this was headed. </p><p> </p><p>“If it’s an eld being, which based on your description it seems to be—”</p><p> </p><p>“Eld being?” Amanda pressed him.</p><p> </p><p>Ibrahim nodded, and sucked in some air, as if this was a rehearsed explanation. “Just a common name we give to anything that’s vaguely alive and doesn’t originate from the planet. They range from simple creatures to sapient entities who usually possess some knowledge of magic; or at least we <em> think </em> what they’re using is magic. The truly dangerous eld beings though tend to come from other planes, or exist in our dimension, but are so complex and powerful that they can exert their wills’ across astronomical distances. The Antiquarians have, luckily, only ever had to deal with one that dangerous directly once. Any other cases usually involved humans and magical beings who were enthralled by them.” </p><p> </p><p>“Enthralled by them eh?” Hannah rubbed at her chin before she pointed a finger toward Ibrahim. “That witch I saw.... When I looked back after it nearly bitch-slapped me into the next century, it looked human enough. Talked perfectly like a young girl too; same tone and everything, even spoke english.” Amanda cracked her knuckles and exhaled suddenly, preparing for the worst with the natural question that followed: “You think maybe that’s what we’re dealing with here?”</p><p> </p><p>Ibrahim stood at that, having raised his brows and taken on a more surprised look. “That’s actually very enlightening. I had thought they were simply using a glamour or illusory spell to hide their shape, but perhaps you’re right…. I’ll have my team look into it.” He seemed to have more purpose to his motions now as he reached for his wand, whipping together a simple spell to send a sort of text-communication to the research team. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda waited patiently for him to finish before proceeding to stand as well. “Sooo… Got an ID on that thing? Or at least a thought of what or who it could be?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not yet.” Ibrahim silently cursed himself, wishing by all powers in the universe that he did. He readjusted the robes around his neck and his cowl when he next spoke “But that little detail removes a lot of dead-end options from our search. It’ll be extremely useful for the investigation down the road. Like Diana said, we should be less focused on the identity of our enemy, and more focused on the immediate threat they pose. Once that has been dealt with, we can shift our resources to deciphering their origins.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda crossed her arms in silent understanding, doing her best now to shake the image of the being from her mind. For all she cared the memories could be lost forever now; that sight isn’t one she’d want to relive. “Right. Anything else?”</p><p> </p><p>Ibrahim ran a hand across his head, questioning Amanda, “Can I rely on you to hold your own and fight should thing’s get… nasty?” He reached out a hand then, offering a shake. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda took it in stride, and firmly grasped his hand, receiving a similarly firm grip from Ibrahim in turn. “Damn you right you can. You’d have a hard time keeping me <em> out </em> of a fight.” Both chuckled, and shared a few moments more shaking hands before stepping toward the door. </p><p> </p><p>On their way out, Ibrahim remarked, “Excellent. Now, go get some rest. You look fine, but I can tell you’re a professional at <em> walking it off </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda gave him a thumbs up in confirmation, and turned down the dim hallway to her left, and headed off to get some rest. Ibrahim went right, and began to mentally prepare himself for the assuredly sleepless nights to come.</p><p> </p><p>Now alone with her thoughts, Amanda couldn’t help but ruminate on the argument between her, Hannah, and Barbara, that was bound to occur. She always hated when this happened; they were always so good together…. At least her memory had convinced her so. </p><p> </p><p>Only upon arriving at the doors to the infirmary did Amanda realize that they always end up fighting at least once whenever she came to visit. She thought of what Diana said, again, fearing it was an earnest critique, and she thought of Nelson's badgering over the years on her behavior. Sucy’s words of course crossed her mind, and worst of all, her parents and older brothers made an unwelcome appearance. She hated them most of all, and growled to herself in frustration, as if physically pushing said thoughts from her mind.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda found herself standing at the door and having gripped the handle tight during  the flurry of embarrassing, disdainful memories, self deprecation, and doubt. Her hand was stiff and rigid against the brass and her arm went slack as she came to from her momentary stupor. She loosed her previously tight jaw, and turned the knob gingerly; for mercy, both Hannah and Barbara seemed to be sleeping, with the former simply sitting beside the bed Barbara was resting in. Their argument could wait until the morning. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda quietly slipped into the chair beside Hannah, and let her red haired girlfriend rest on her shoulder, assuming she’d find that more comfortable. At the least, it made Amanda feel safer, for reasons she wasn’t fully sure of, and drifted off to sleep soon after. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>Sleep evaded Constanze all night; not that she was <em> unable </em> to sleep, but rather that once she had fallen asleep around three am, she immediately woke up and found it to be nearly eleven am. <em> “Figures.” </em> She thought to herself while shuffling weakly down the halls of the first floor. She was still wearing her pajamas, and rightly couldn’t give a damn to change just to squirrel away back to her dorm with a few left overs from breakfast. No one would judge, and for the moment, there were more pressing thoughts occupying her mind.</p><p> </p><p>She wanted to be happy, but every part of her head throbbed with a migraine; what a <em> wonderful </em> time to have  a period-flare-up. Even so, Constanze couldn’t deny that it all seemed a bit too good to be true. What little bit of optimism she had rationalized that even if her parents weren’t as earnest in their recovery as the email claimed, it would no doubt be an improvement from their past behaviors. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze knew she would have to face them someday, she could only be grateful that as the date fast approached, her luck seemed to be turning up.</p><p> </p><p>She reached the cafeteria doors and lazily shouldered it open, pinching the corner of her eyes and then her nose in an attempt to remove the grime and crust formed from her sleep. Her hearing was suddenly distorted, as if she had been submerged, when the murmuring, gasps, and hurried footsteps of other students assailed her tired senses. Constanze looked up and saw that nearly all students present had gathered in the center of the cafeteria, and were looking at something situated in the center. Others were panickedly pulling out their phones or making magical calls to loved ones while running out of the room in a hurry.</p><p> </p><p>“What the hell?” Constanze murmured and approached the group while rubbing her eyes. She blinked rapidly, fully awakening to a degree, and upon reaching the group, several familiar faces seemed to be urging her to not look. </p><p> </p><p>“Constanze! Uh! We should talk uh, outside!” A Chinese second year student named Ling urged, pushing past several others in the crowd before gently pushing Constanze by the shoulders. Constanze froze, going rigid and eyed at the sudden contact and the barrage of speech. She couldn’t bring herself to speak yet.</p><p> </p><p>Another approached, Evette, a French third year student, “Don’t push! Just, here let me get you something to eat, this is nothing, promise!” She, like Ling, bore a false smile. They were both members of the IT-Magi-Tech club that Constanze, begrudgingly, ran, and both were on relatively good terms with Constanze, enough to know about tidbits of her past and family ties. </p><p> </p><p>A third, also a close acquaintance of Constanze outside of the New Nine group, Carmen, from Bolivia, pushed the other two aside chiding them both in Aymaran. She looked to the frightened and bewildered Constanze and led her aside as Ling and Evette followed. “Cons… I’m sorry, things are just crazy. Really, really, really crazy this morning. I….”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze spoke up and halted in her guided stride, tired of being carted about like she couldn’t handle herself. “What is going on?” Her tone and the fact that she rarely spoke to most people added on a litany of implied statements that her acquaintances could parse. What Constanze was likely asking in full ranged from: <em> “Why are you touching me? Get out of my face. I want answers, now. Stop lying to me.” </em>On and on it could’ve gone. </p><p> </p><p>Her eyes pierced Carmen’s calm and somber stare and brought her to whimper when trying to speak, as if holding back crying. “You… lived in Ludinghal, right?” She sniffled, where Ling was already tearing up; Evette had looked away, her eyes downcast, unable to bear looking at her friend.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze processed the sentence perhaps three times over before she began to move again, walking slowly forward before shoving Carmen and Ling out of the way, and parting the crowd with similarly brusque behavior uncharacteristic of Constanze. At the center, lay a cafeteria table, and upon it, a crystal ball a student was previously using to likely just browse witch-net and generally enjoy themselves online, was now fixated on a breaking new story. </p><p> </p><p>A refined Londoner’s accent from the visibly shaken reporter, dressed in a dulled pink and black suit-piece delivered the message. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Yes, here we are receiving live footage now, from Ludinghal Germany, receiving a feed authorized for use by the BBC by German authorities showing the… absolute devastation.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The formally smaller sub-screen on the news broadcast was enlarged, blocking out any hint of the reporter who continued speaking. <em> “Maybe, twenty houses, as you can see, remain standing in any way shape or form, and officials are saying that the fires are still being sporadically fought as rubble from the town continues to occasionally ignite….” </em>The town was completely in ruin. Burnt bodies and uncollected limbs were scattered scarcely about the snowy streets, and what appeared to be german military forces were running through the streets, covering up the bodies of humans and things that, from a distance and angle, couldn’t be rightly identified. Some wore full hazmat gear, despite no signs of a chemical fallout or otherwise infectious ailment being present, and two armored personnel carriers (APCs) rolled in from the main road. It was an incomplete view of the town, but anyone could tell that it had g</p><p> </p><p><em> “I’m… we’re not sure what kind of issue the firefighters on the ground could be having, perhaps there was a chemical leak, gas leak, or, something that’s causing these fires to continue despite </em> — <em> ” </em></p><p> </p><p>The reporter was briefly caught off guard, as the vision from the helicopter focused in on a pile of heavy rubble from one of the hundreds of collapsed buildings began to shift and move. Attentive viewers would spot an appendage reach out from beneath the stone; it was long, gangly, burnt heavily but perhaps originally blue, and seemed to be human, but had a claw like shape for a hand. It seemed to rake the snow inwards and thrash about before the feed from the copter was cut. The news reporter spoke up, clearly aware of what she just witnessed and following orders from the stage crew.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Ah, it seems we are having some technical difficulties again. We’ll be back as soon as we can with clear coverage on the Ludinghal incident… as soon as possible. In the meantime, what information we can speak of regarding the incident is the absolute lack of survivors found.” </em> The woman tensed ever so slightly, gripping the papers in her hand a bit tighter. <em> “No bodies were recovered beyond one hundered meters from… the town itself or the farmhouses associated with the village. Searches are ongoing, and many bodies continue to go unaccounted for. The death toll is estimated to be around nearly two… thousand. The entirety of Ludinghal’s population. We urge you to contact your loved one’s in the surrounding area and please confirm their safety. International and German authorities are still working to identify the cause of this incident, and any information that could be valuable to the investigation should be directed to 918 </em>—”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze trembled, and all sound around her blurred into white noise. The snippet of the broadcast she had just witnessed looped in her mind, the most terrible of details overlapping. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Two thousand… devastation… lack of survivors found… loved ones. Loved ones. Mom, dad.” </em>Constanze shot like a bullet through the crowd, and like many others, began speeding down the halls past concerned looking students and professors alike. It seemed the whole world was becoming well aware of the tragedy, and Luna Nova was no shelter from such knowledge. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze tripped, stumbled, and staggered past people in her way, over her own slippers, and slammed her dorm-room door open upon arrival. Jasminka wasn’t present, but Constanze couldn’t even care to know where her friend was. She dug her phone out from the tangle of blankets, and frantically began dialing. She miss-dialed nearly five times due to her trembling hands, and when the phone began to ring, signalling it was trying to connect, Constanze began biting her fingernails obsessively. </p><p> </p><p><em> “They got out. They left. Obviously. Who would stay? They would know. They’re smart people. They were planning a surprise visit! They were on vacation! They moved and didn’t tell me!” </em>Thousands more excuses made themselves known in a span of five seconds, before a dreaded tone came over the other end, and a recording played in German.</p><p> </p><p><em> “The number you have dialed is no longer in service, is disconnected, or is otherwise unreachable at the moment. Please hang up and try again. If this continues to </em>—”</p><p> </p><p>“FUCK!” Constanze shouted, tearing away a piece of her middle finger’s nail such that it started to bleed. She paced back and forth, slamming the door shut and locking it, not wanting any to witness her in this state. Her hands tightened around the phone like she was trying to strangle the life out of it.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Calm down. Try again.” </em> She had to. She dialed, and waited.</p><p> </p><p><em> “The number you have dialed is no longer in service, is disconnected, or </em>—”</p><p> </p><p>Again.</p><p> </p><p><em> “The number you have dialed is no longer in service, is dis </em>—”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze kicked a leg of her bed, biting her tongue as she held back a scream of heavy pain; she was self destructing. </p><p> </p><p>Again.</p><p> </p><p><em> “The number </em> —” The phone shattered against the wall, but as if powers beyond her knowing wished to toy with her further, the message continued. <em> “—have dialed is no longer in service, is disscon—” </em>Constanze stomped on it. Tears began to drop to the floor where her badly bruised and now lightly bleeding foot was landing. Tears and blood began to mix, in a tiny puddle, until Constanze tripped and collapsed to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably while her hands gripped at her wounded foot. </p><p> </p><p>Everything hurt, everything spun, everything was so detestably <em> wrong. </em> Constanze, and her parents, had taken one step forward, but something, or someone, somewhere had set then forty steps back; worse, they buried her family six feet over, and burned her town to ash. There was no logical way to reconcile this event; it was the beginning of a waking nightmare.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>Hannah groaned herself awake, not even deigning to open her eyes as she spoke. “Mmmm…. Who am I sleeping on?”</p><p> </p><p>“Guess.” Amanda was nonchalant and busy reading a month or two old magazine that the infirmary had lying about.</p><p> </p><p>Hannah opened her right eye, then her left, barely able to parse out objects until she’d been given more time to be roused from her half sleep. Still, she spoke. “Sorry I wasn’t awake…” She yawned, loudly, “Awake…” and finally began speaking normally again, “When you came by.” </p><p> </p><p>Only then did Hannah realize Barbara was also awake, followed by the sound of her voice. It was timid, more so than usual when the three were alone, and weary. “Good morning Hannah. Sorry we didn’t wake you earlier…. It felt better to just let everyone rest.” She had a bandage around her head with a ice pack tightly secured to where the healed wound on her forehead had been sealed.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda chortled. “At least you two got good sleep. Kept waking up every other hour.” She pulled her flask from the counter beside her chair and went to unscrew it, but felt Hannah reach out and grab her arm. </p><p> </p><p>“Drinking, again? This early? Are you serious?” Hannah was still groggy, but began to come to; the sight of Amanda possibly drinking again agitating her. </p><p> </p><p>“Christ’s sake Hannah, it’s water.” Amanda poured just a drop or two out onto her hand, showing it off with a very <em> “I can’t” </em>kind of look. </p><p> </p><p>Barbara tensed at the raised voices and sighed deeply. “Can we please just… be quiet? Just a little softer, I’m really not in good shape.” She rubbed her temples and her expression soured. </p><p> </p><p>Hannah looked over the liquid, as if in this tired state, that she’d be able to tell if it was alcoholic or otherwise. Barbara’s request though had her simply resign to accepting it, and she slumped back into her chair, lifting her head from Amanda’s shoulders and wetting her hands with her own water bottle. She splashed the droplets in her face and wiped it clean, shaking off the rest of her exhaustion while Amanda finally drank from her flask, which did indeed just contain water.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda set the flask aside then, and an awkward silence fell over the room for a few more minutes. No one really wanted to make the first movement, as any and every motion, including coughs or clearing their throat, seemed like a slight against another. Each of them pondered briefly just how they went from a romantic and intimate night two days ago, to once again, feeling stuck in a room as if they were encased in ice; a trap of their own making. </p><p> </p><p>There was no mistake to be made in saying they loved each other, or that they were friends, but none of them had fully outgrown the more toxic elements of their personalities.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda, daring, if clumsy to a degree, broke their self induced gag orders first. “You guys need anything? I can go grab something from the cafeteria, they should be serving lunch soon.” It was a harmless gesture, but it felt like walking on glass shards to even broach. </p><p> </p><p>Barbara shook her head, forcing a half smile. “No thanks.” </p><p> </p><p>Hannah had her arms folded now, looking off and away into a distant corner of the room blankly. She required a prompt from Amanda directly to come to. “Eh? No. I’m fine.” She said it a bit all too sharply, simply having been caught off guard and felt rushed for a response. </p><p> </p><p>“Alright, alright. No need to get snippy.” Amanda ran a hand through her hair, only just realizing a moment after the domino effect she set in motion. </p><p> </p><p>“I wasn’t being snippy.” <em> Here we go. </em></p><p> </p><p>Barbara slowly became quieter as the argument would continue, but for now spoke at a normal volume. “She’s just on edge, we all are.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda stuffed her hands in her pockets. “I mean, I got to look at a crazy-ass fucked up abomination in the eye and, I’m fine.” Her innermost voice screamed at her. <em> “THIS ISN’T A CONTEST, JUST BACK OFF.” </em>But the advice came too late, as it always did with hindsight. </p><p> </p><p>“Want a purple heart?” Hannah was one of the few at the academy who could keep up with Amanda blow for blow in a spat; it did their relationship no favors.</p><p> </p><p>“Hannah….” Barbara started, but Amanda finished: </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t start.”</p><p> </p><p>“Start? Me? Are you kidding? Leave it to you to always have to get the last word in.” Hannah turned her gaze even further away from either Amanda or Barbara; she could never look at them long when they fought, it made her regret and self reflect, and her own pride wouldn’t allow that. </p><p> </p><p>“Now I wish that wasn’t water.” This was no time for jokes, but Amanda chuckled all the same, too ignorant of when and where she should allow her bravado and lax nature to go unchecked.</p><p> </p><p>Barbara, though quieting down, was clearly upset by that comment. “You know we’re both serious when we get on your case about the drinking, Amanda. We get it, you like it, and work can be stressful but, come on….” She slowly shook her head in judgemental fashion.</p><p> </p><p>Hannah chided rhetorically, “When is Amanda ever like, half serious, Barbara?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re doing that thing again, Hannah. You know, when you act like I’m not in front of you.” It was cute when they were joking and on a date, less so when arguing. </p><p> </p><p>“For how long you’re usually gone you may as well not be here ever.” Barbara deflated like a balloon when Hannah made that remark, and Hannah felt a stab in her gut; that was a <em> really </em>low blow. Hannah even recognized it given the following silence. “I mean, what, do you want me to keep lying and just not say this stuff?” They’d gone well off track from the initial gripe about beer-drinking.</p><p> </p><p>“I mean, fuck, Hannah, do you think if I had a choice to bring you guys along I wouldn’t do absolutely everything to like, make that possible?” Amanda held her forehead groaning. “I mean, come on, I talk to you guys so much about where I go and… do I just not make it clear enough how much I fucking miss you guys? How much I dream about showing you guys the world?”</p><p> </p><p>Hannah was struck silent for the moment, and despite not wanting to, Barbara continued the conversation. What she did want was for things to heal over rather than drive any knives deeper than they’d already been. “She—We, know you care a lot, Amanda, but your last trip away was longer than most. And, well, I know maybe sending letters was a bad idea—”</p><p> </p><p>Hannah murmured, cutting Barbara off briefly. “I just like them is all….”</p><p> </p><p>“Anyways,” Barbara rolled her eyes, sitting up properly in the bed. “Without any contact from you, it was really worrying. We didn’t want to… talk about that when you had just got back. But we agreed we would at some point.” She smiled faintly, looking down at her hands. “We just wanted to enjoy your company, and a night together, where we could push all that aside.”</p><p> </p><p>Hannah poignantly, but bitingly replied. “You always want to push that stuff off Barbara.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda jumped in, waving her hands like she was trying to keep things at least somewhat civil now that they seemed to not be yelling insults anymore. “Well, I mean, come on, you can’t blame her for just wanting some—”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t enable her, Amanda, we need to just…” Hannah hesitated.</p><p> </p><p>Barbara followed up, her hands tightening lightly into anxious fists. “Need to what? Fight over something stupid, again? I’m tired of it Hannah, I’ve been tired of it since we were kids.”</p><p> </p><p>Hannah held her face with both hands, exhaling as she lost all of the wind in her sails so to speak.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda sat beside Hannah then, having pulled the chairs close to Barbara’s bed. “Hey now….” She bit her tongue for a moment, and tried her best to be careful with her words. “Let’s… maybe just try and be clear. I gotta agree with Barbara. Not to like, gang up on you Hannah, but—”</p><p> </p><p>“But what?” Hannah threw her hands down against her lap, temporarily defeated.</p><p> </p><p>“But we clearly all got fucked up shit we have to deal with, and clearly, it’s not just stuff we can do alone.” Amanda was going out on a limb; they’d never tried to play the mediator in any of these arguments, nor was she usually ever in the mindset to ever consider a constructive approach such as this.</p><p> </p><p>Barbara shook her head. “No, no, no, she won’t change, you won’t change. People don’t change.”</p><p> </p><p><em> “People like me and you don’t change.” </em> Another of Sucy’s claims haunted Amanda for a moment, mirroring Barbara’s statement.</p><p> </p><p>She denied them, first in her mind, and then verbally. She <em> had </em> to, or else she conceded this was all a doomed affair. “No, fuck that, I don’t buy that for one fucking second.” Amanda placed an arm on the chair, bending her elbow up and leaning in. She gestured a pointed figure between Hannah and Barbara. “People can change. You guys <em> did </em> change. You used to be like… alright you can punch me for this if you want, but let's not kid ourselves; you two were <em> bitches </em>.” Of course, Hannah took the opportunity to lightly punch Amanda on the shoulder. “Ow, sheesh.” It didn’t really hurt of course, it just surprised her. </p><p> </p><p>“You said I could.” Hannah looked away, pretending as if she wasn’t listening. She didn’t feel like being wrong, ever, and she wasn’t about to reveal any form of that vulnerability now. </p><p> </p><p>Barbara murmured some, shifting uncomfortably. “We… kinda were yeah…. I’m just glad Akko, well, got over it.” Barbara clenched the blanket over her body then and denied it further, again, shaking her head in the negative. “But, that’s normal. I’m not talking about that change. I’m talking about who we are as people. People just, have flaws, and some flaws are just <em> there. </em> It’s a part of them.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda groaned, her hands falling into her lap as she threw her head back and accidentally hit it against the wall. “Fff…. Well, shit.” If Amanda’s memory served well, Barbara was quite adept at moving goalposts. “I can’t sit here, none of us can, and just go through every way any given person has changed just to prove you wrong, Barbara.”</p><p> </p><p>Hannah backhandedly added on. “Not like she’d listen anyway. If she listened to me more—” </p><p> </p><p>“Quit that shit Hannah, for god’s sake.” Amanda opened her posture up, as if at a loss for any other words. “Just, can we all agree we’ve got something wrong here and that we’re <em> actually </em> going to try and fix it? Ourselves? Each other? Love’s supposed to be—” </p><p> </p><p>Barbara finished what Amanda began to say. “A team effort.” She looked up to Hannah, who admittedly couldn’t deny that statement despite her arrogance. Amanda nodded in agreement, hopeful when seeing them making some progress in this conversation. </p><p> </p><p>“Right. So… we can all agree also, that right now, here, like, with all the weird stuff going on, that it is probably the worst time to work things out. Agreed?” Just as Amanda asked, Hannah began mouthing a statement that likely would’ve been, <em> “oh so you’re running away from the problem too now?” </em> but Amanda raised a finger to silence her. “And, let me be wholly frank, I am <em> not </em> trying to just put it on the backburner. What I’m trying to do is be realistic; with the attacks, the academy going under, and, well, with none of us knowing what next week will hold for us let alone the next five hours, we shouldn’t really break our backs with stress trying to psycho-whosey-whatever-the-shit each other back together, fair?”</p><p> </p><p>Hannah slumped back into her chair, with her immediate critique answered before it hit the airwaves. Barbara pondered on it quietly, looking up at the ceiling as she began to lay down. The trio sat in silence as Amanda threw her hands up slowly, palms facing the two, as if to say <em> “I can wait,” </em>and so they did. </p><p> </p><p>Ten minutes went by; Hannah eventually seemed to become less frigid, and leaned into Amanda, resting her face against her shoulder, but not looking up directly. Barbara carefully rose from her bed, shifted to the side Amanda was near, and leaned in slightly to rest her hands on Amandas’ shoulders. Amanda felt a twinge of romantic yearning, sadness, and glee all mixed together, and pulled in the two to an embrace.  Neither resisted, and gripped each other tightly. </p><p> </p><p>Hannah, once pulled away from the huddle, whispered. “I just want everyone to still be here when this is all over.”</p><p> </p><p>Barbara nodded. “For better or worse.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda, foul mouthed as ever, reassured them. “And it’ll be ‘for better’ if my boot has anything to say to that bug-eyed bitch’s ass.” She cracked her neck, feeling very cool at that moment, only to be deflated by Hannah and Barbara’s chuckling. “W-What?!” </p><p> </p><p>Barbara stifled a laugh. “I swear you act like you’re a character out of a poorly written action novel sometimes.” Amanda scoffed.</p><p> </p><p>Hannah had to join in to of course. “I always likened her to a <em> Fast and Furious </em> side character who just never made the cut in the final script print.” </p><p> </p><p><em> “Ahem!” </em>  Amanda did her best to hide that she wanted to laugh at the joke too, but her girlfriends could tell regardless. They both pinched either cheek until Amanda shook them off. “Alright, alright, clearly we’ve moved past the worst of it for now. But, I was serious you know?”</p><p> </p><p>Hannah and Barbara both looked to her, then each other, and nodded. “Yeah,” “Yep.”</p><p> </p><p>“When this is all over, we’ll clear the slate, figure shit out, and… I’ll take a vacation. Six months. Just for us.” Amanda didn’t promise anything lightly. </p><p> </p><p>Hannah beamed with joy as Barbara bounced a bit where she stood. The latter was the first to speak. “You know, we actually wanted to tell you something about that! Something to maybe convince you to stay with us for a while.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s been a big secret plan of ours!” Hannah grinned. “We’ve been thinking…”</p><p> </p><p>Barbara alternated, “After talking with Lotte some…”</p><p> </p><p>Then Hannah, “And we decided that…” </p><p> </p><p>They spoke together. “We’re going to open our own magical emporium!” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda blinked maybe five times as her mind made sense of the mini-bombshell that had been dropped. It was exciting news, but it had Amanda more worried; now, even more was riding on this problem with the wyrd witches getting sorted. She couldn’t help but smile widely though; there would be time for fear later. “No shit? Really?” When her girlfriends nodded, Amanda pulled them in again for a big hug, “C’mere you two!” They didn’t resist, enjoying the change in tone from before.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s in a sea-side town in North France!” Hannah clarified. “Feykomp!”</p><p> </p><p>Barbara scoffed at the butchering of the town’s pronunciation, “Fécamp! It’s Fécamp!” she chided with exaggerated anger.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda rolled her eyes. “We can brush up on our French later; tell me more about this storefront idea.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure, it’s—” Hannah began to speak, but was interrupted by the sound of running outside the infirmary. It seemed like maybe a group of five or more students were hurrying along. It wouldn’t be an abnormal noise if not for the footsteps that followed soon after, and the muffled words the trio could only barely make out. </p><p> </p><p>“I gotta call my folks!” One voice said. “No, no, no, no, this is <em> not </em> happening.” Another managed to say. Similar expressions of concern for people’s immediate family or for another student’s well being sporadically echoed in the halls.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda and Barbara stood up to go check, while Hannah spoke. “W-What’s going on out there?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda tensed, worrying that there had been some form of attack on the academy, or there was an accident of sorts. “Checkin’ it out.” She turned and saw Barbara following. “Maybe you two should both stay here.”</p><p> </p><p>Barbara insisted. “You saw us that night, you may be the globe-trotting daredevil here, but we can handle ourselves too you know.” In reality, she just didn’t want to leave Amanda’s side for now, not out of fear for her own wellbeing, but out of concern for Amanda’s and for the others. </p><p> </p><p>Hannah rose and followed suit, “M-Maybe I should go check with Diana and Ibrahim in the meantime. You guys go make sure everyone else is alright.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda nodded in agreement, happy with the resolution they’d come to for now. “Got it. Come on.” She beckoned for Barbara to take her hand, and away they went, while Hannah split off. </p><p> </p><p>Where Hannah and Amanda both were primarily focused on the immediate problem, and solving it, Barbara was left stirring on their argument, and the toxic pieces of their relationship that plagued them. Every fiber of her being knew that, despite the immediate divide the polycule was feeling, things were getting better. It left her scared, and she wished to keep running away, as she always had from her problems, but she knew that if not for her sake, then for theirs, she’d have to keep pushing.</p><p> </p><p>No one changes in a day's time.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>Barbara and Amanda were making their way quickly through the flights of stairs, moving up toward the dormitories, still without much of a clue as to what was happening. Most people they had tried to stop and ask weren’t listening, weren’t in the mood to speak on it, or had no clue, and were seeking their own answers. Only when Wangari, Kimberly, and Joanne were encountered at the top of the stairwell did Amanda and Barbara find any leads. </p><p> </p><p>The Luna Nova News Network was <em> technically </em> on probation, but amidst the chaos, Wangari wagered there wouldn’t be any time or free hands to reprimand them. And none of her colleagues were about to disservice the student body by not getting the honest scoop. </p><p> </p><p>“Right! That’s Sally Fairfield’s account, read it back to me Kim!” The aforementioned Sally was already heading off down past Amanda and Barbara. Wangari hard-faced, and hard at work putting the pieces of the situation together in her head, awaiting her crew-mates opinions. </p><p> </p><p>Where Wangari was upbeat, jaunty, and typically lively in her speech, Kimberlly could be compared to Sucy in the monotone she usually used. “Sally says: ‘I’m not totally sure of every detail, no one is, but there was an attack of some kind. It wiped out a town in Germany, Ludinghal I think the reporter said. Look, I appreciate the effort but I have to go!’” </p><p> </p><p>Joanna waved <em> Ansel </em>, her lovingly named eyeball-lens camera, about the scene, leaning around the corner Sally went down and snapping some excessive pictures of her leaving. Once her craving for shots was satisfied, she whipped around suddenly, and nearly blinded Amanda with a flash. “AH!” Amanda yelped, bringing Wangari to halt when she was just about to speak. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda nearly fell backward down the stairs, but was caught by Barbara, who chided the team. “Do you mind! Watch where you’re pointing that thing!”</p><p> </p><p>Joanna shook her head. “No can do! Have to document every bit of the scene! EVERY BIT!” She was hyperactive and jumpy, like a sugar-rushed-mouse, but the news didn’t have her happy, more so on edge. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda grunted when steadying herself, and wiped her eyes clear of any spots. “Hey, uh, not to like, get in the way but could you maybe fill us in on what the hell is happening?” </p><p> </p><p>Wangari was in reporter mode, and responded as such: “And here we have the prodigal daughter of Luna Nova, Amanda O’Neill, asking—”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh for fuck’s sake Wangari—” Amanda held the sides of her own head with both hands, trying to get to the point. </p><p> </p><p>Wangari cut her off however, leaning in and blocking the lens of a spectral blue filming camera one might see wielded by mundane news crews. It was maintained by magic, obviously, and held aloft by two tiny Imps of greyish coloration. Wangari spoke hushly: <em> “You’re on air, Amanda! Watch the language, we don’t want to get censored!” </em> </p><p> </p><p>“On air? Censored?” Amanda dismissed it all with a heavy sigh. </p><p> </p><p>Barbara stepped in between the two. “Wangari, we’re serious, we just want to know what’s happening!”</p><p> </p><p>Wangari nodded, but mostly kept to her news reporter routine given the whole <em> on-air </em> issue. “We’re here with Amanda O’Neill and Barbara Parker, informing them of the recent events far-afield from Luna Nova! From the gathered accounts, international media is reporting that the town of Ludinghal Germany has been wiped off the map!” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda and Barbara both expressed their dismay and surprise at this, each becoming more nervous. Barbara spoke first. “Wiped off the map? And how?” She caught Kimberly recording her words and she glared at her. </p><p> </p><p>“What? It’s my job.” Kimberly paused, but as Barbara kept glaring, she rolled her eyes, “Fine.” and tucked the pen and paper away. </p><p> </p><p>Wangari continued. “Reports are hazy at best! Several students came to the Luna Nova News Network—”</p><p> </p><p>“TRADEMARKED!” Joanna piped up.</p><p> </p><p>Wangari didn’t skip a beat though. “—With conflicting information! Some are reporting a massive series of gas leaks that caused a fire to sweep through the sleeping town in mere hours! Others claim a chemical spill occured from a passing convoy of trucks en route to a toxic waste management facility, and a crash occurred, which led to the fire!”</p><p> </p><p>Kimberly joined in. “Checking now. Most recent story from NYT claiming it was most likely a terrorist attack. Makes a point to claim <em> magical forces </em> may be involved.” Kimberly seemed especially upset by that last line. “So much for reporting the ‘facts’ when they arrive and not in advance.”</p><p> </p><p>Wangari continued, and turned to address the camera directly. “Truly a shame! Luna Nova News Network however, will be on top of the story, from dusk to dawn; only bringing you the <em> real </em> news. We’ve even enlisted the whole IT club to perform web-crawl routines on mundane internet and witch-net sources! Stay tuned for more updates! Wangari out!” She saluted the camera with two fingers before the imps flew off and away with the ethereal camera. When that was all said and done, she spun about to look to Amanda and Barbara again, having dropped her professional news reporter routine. “So yeah. That’s what we got.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda deflated her cheeks, at a momentary loss for words, before mustering together a response. “What about all the people living there? I mean you said wiped off the map but…”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh god, I hope they’re ok.” Barbara was equally worried, and looked to Wangari, begging for a silver lining in the reports.</p><p> </p><p>Wangari could only shake her head. “We’ve not reported on this directly yet, as it’s a bit grim, and we don’t want to spread misinformation. We’ve just been gaining accounts of what’s going on with the students, and what they know; it’s all hearsay. But from that we’ve sadly learned that, well, there were likely no survivors.” She was stoic toward the end of her statement, like a doctor pronouncing a patient deceased. </p><p> </p><p>Barbara held her hands over her mouth and recoiled. “No survivors?”</p><p> </p><p>“Fucking hell….” Amanda brought the side of her fist to rest against her forehead as she leaned over, spinning slowly in a circle as she tried to take in the information and really come to accept and process it. The realization came slowly, like a stalking predator, before it struck Amanda’s mind with a silent thunderclap that shattered any illusion of this just being a ‘far and away’ tragedy. “Constanze….” She whispered.</p><p> </p><p>Barbara looked to Amanda, “W-What?” </p><p> </p><p>Wangari, Kimberly, and Joanna shared Barbara’s curiosity, and leaned in, with Ansel and notepad at the ready. Amanda spoke up more. “Constanze. She used to live… her family.” She covered her own mouth and sucked in air sharply. “Out of my way, come on Barbara!” She began to push past the LNN.</p><p> </p><p>Wangari fought back. “Oi, oi! Watch it! What’s wrong with Constanze?!” She wasn’t asking as a reporter then, but as a concerned acquaintance. This was most clear when Joanna started taking pictures, only to have the camera covered by Wangari’s left palm.  </p><p> </p><p>Barbara was being pulled by Amanda, and pleaded. “Slow down Amanda! What is—”</p><p> </p><p>“Constanze’s family was in Ludinghal!” She blurted out, struggling still against the LNN, only to break through at that moment when the trio of reporters lost any will to prevent her from passing; even Kimberly had the decency not to document that statement. Amanda and Barbara stumbled forward toward the archway leading to the floor where blue-team’s dorm was, and they paused as Barbara nearly fell, but was caught and lifted up. </p><p> </p><p>Wangari ran a hand through her hair and sucked her lips inward. The news came like a shiver on everyone’s soul, even if they weren’t sure yet of the true outcome; the mere possibility that Luna Nova’s prided inventor had lost her family in a tragedy like this was enough heavy enough news to weigh down the whole student body. “Go check on her. Make sure she’s alright! We’ll keep the place locked down. You’ll need privacy no doubt.”</p><p> </p><p>Joanna nodded fervently in agreement. “Anyone who tries getting past gets an eye full of cataracts!” She set her living camera’s flash to the highest setting possible and took up a wide berth at the top of the stairs. </p><p> </p><p>Kimberly rolled her eyes. “Or we could just tell them to not go up immediately….” She shuffled over and reluctantly made herself a piece of the three-woman barricade. </p><p> </p><p>Wangari finally locked the two together and looked back to Amanda and Barbara to speak. “Go on, we’ve got it covered!”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda and Barbara both were baffled, as most were, by the behavior of the LNN; they were endearing, bizzare, annoying, and informative all at once, but at least they were always honest.</p><p> </p><p> Amanda gave them a quick thumb’s up before hurrying through the arch with barbara, who complained. “Still dizzy! Could we run <em>a</em> <em>little</em> slower?” It was only a fifty feet distance to the dorm room, so Amanda heeded her bookworm-girlfriend and eased them over to the door. </p><p> </p><p>Unsurprisingly, Jasminka was outside, sulking silently, her tears already spent. “Jas!” Amanda called out, only bringing Jasminka to raise her head by an inch. </p><p> </p><p>“Ah… Amanda.” For Jasminka to simply greet her as such was a sign of just how bad things were.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda stepped closer, holding Jasminka’s hands as she pleaded, “Jas, talk to me, come on look at me.” She snapped her fingers once, and Jasminka slowly looked up, her lips still quivering. “What happened?”  Amanda was beyond despairing, but the situation demanded she play it straight, and get to the bottom of things.</p><p> </p><p>“Constanze…. She's locked herself in her room. I left in the morning, to go help cook breakfast, and came back as soon as I saw the commotion in the cafeteria.” She sniffled, wiping her face with a sleeve now messy from tears. “She’s only told me to go away. She won’t even send a Stanbot out. I keep hearing her crying… things breaking. I don’t know what to do Amanda!” Jasminka lunged forward then, gripping Amanda incredibly tight as she cried into her chest. </p><p> </p><p>“ACH! AHH! JAS PLEASE!” There was little Amanda’s requests could do to save her from the bear hug, but thankfully Barbara stepped in to begin separating them.</p><p> </p><p>While Amanda recovered her breath, Barbara continued the questioning, holding back a tearful strea, of her own; it wasn’t her family that was hurt, but Constanze was a close enough friend that Barbara, a woman who already was quite empathetic, felt the pain and grief vicariously. “Jasminka, have you been able to get in? Is she ok? Physically?”</p><p> </p><p>Jasminka shook her head, her words muffled by the blubbering of her dry-sobbing. “I don’t know! I’ve been here for half an hour!” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda gently moved them both aside, “Babs, try and calm her down, please?” Barbara nodded, and began trying to ease her friend down from the crying fit she was in. Meanwhile, Amanda banged on the door five times in heavy succession. “CONSTANZE! It’s Amanda! Do you hear me?”</p><p> </p><p>No response came, and another five raps went the doors way. “CONSTANZE! Cons! If you don’t answer, I’m breaking this fucking door down!” She was angry, not at Constanze, but at the world; why was everything falling to pieces?</p><p> </p><p>Again, there was no immediate reply, and Amanda breathed deeply a few times. “Alright! Count of three! Step back if you’re in there! One! Two!—”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze shouted back, her voice pained like she’d worn out her vocal chords to the point of bleeding. “GO AWAY! I’M FINE!” On her end, Constanze only said as much to remain in solitude. </p><p> </p><p>Her foot which she slammed against her bed earlier was swollen; her big toe was purple and sported a now sealed wound with bits of red dried blood spattered beneath the wrappings. Bits of plastic and glass had been stuck in the sole of her foot, but she treated that as well, albeit poorly. Currently, she was holed up in the back right corner of her bed, facing the room with her knees curled up against the rest of her form. Her hair was messy, she still hadn’t showered, or even properly cleaned her wounds; her absolute fury and despair prevented all of this. The desk in the dorm was littered with books, pens, and other such things across it’s top in a messy fashion. Much of it spilled onto the floor too. The blood from her assault on her cell-phone had become dried on the floor at the foot of her bed. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda didn’t buy Constanze’s claim one bit, but at least lowered her right leg, which had been raised to begin kicking the door in. She wasn’t sure how to continue next, but tried to maintain communication with Constanze. “Listen Conz, I need to know you’re ok. Can you just open the door and let me see you? Just for a second! You don’t need to tell me shit about what happened, that’s your business, just—”</p><p> </p><p>“VERPISS DICH!” Constanze swore in German, pausing in order to swallow and steady her trembling body. She could hardly muster the will to speak any further, and covered her ears. Three Stanbots were crowded around the bed; their programmed subroutine gave them no insight on what to do besides “help the creator.” They tried cleaning the room, but Constanze would throw something at them, forcing them to stop; they tried getting her water, but she denied it. The trio of bots even tried forming a ladder to open the door, but again, they were ordered to back down. Now they simply waddled in circles, trying to think of something, <em> anything </em> to do. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda continued to try. “Don’t yell at me Conz I’m just trying to help! Conz!” She began banging on the door again, and tried for a solid five minutes more until her right hand began feeling sore. She shook it as she stepped back and consulted her friends, who for mercy, had been able to calm down. “What now? I think If I break that thing down I’m going to get a face full of murowa or worse.” </p><p> </p><p>Barbara hummed and tapped her foot intensely, trying to come up with any possible plan of attack that wouldn’t end poorly. Jasminka simply shook her head. “These are such dark, terrible times….” </p><p> </p><p>A light appeared in the darkness though, as the blue team door creaked open. A Stanbot squeezed it’s head out, and began speaking. “The Creator is… hungry!” Amanda rushed to try and pry the door open, but the two other Stanbots were stacked up on the first, and waved their arms. “GO AWAY! GO AWAY GO AWAY!” Their sirens honked and whistled, and Amanda caught on quickly. </p><p> </p><p>“Fine, fine! Jas, you hear that?” Jasminka was the resident cook after all, and Amanda knew if anyone could cheer up her friend with food, it was her. </p><p> </p><p>Jasminka slowly seemed to regain her energy, though she was not happy, but rather intense and dead set on making the best damn meal that could ever be conceived. “On it!” her high pitched soft voice rang out as she began jogging along, calling back. “Barbara! Come with me! I’ll need an assistant!” </p><p> </p><p>Barbara had to make a double take, and looked to Amanda for advice, who simply shrugged. Having no other option, Barbara simply shrugged and began running off. “Wait up!”</p><p> </p><p>With Amanda now alone, she resigned herself to posting up as a guard by the now closed door to the dormitory. She slumped to the ground, her legs stretching out fully, and her posture was slovenly. She tried to find the path forward, if there was any, and couldn’t help but find it strange that she was feeling sorrow over the death of family. It wasn’t Amanda’s blood family, not that she ever cared for them, but even though she knew Constanze had a shaky relationship with her folks at best, the idea of Constanze being hurt at all felt like her <em> real </em>family had been attacked. Amanda wasn’t sure how to make sense of that thought, but nevertheless, it persisted in her mind, and only helped to deepen her concern for Constanze’s well being.</p><p> </p><p>It was gonna be a <em> long </em> week.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. With Grim Resolve | You've Got Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just as chapter 3 ended on a note about a long week, I just so happened to have a super busy week myself! Sorry I couldn't get this to you sooner! I'm not off the schedule; if anything we're right back on track. That said, while you're reading, if you have any advice on how to write Jasminka's dialogue (as I already have some character development and story stuff planned for her in future fics of this series), please offer me some tips! I'm always looking to improve! Fics with good writing for Jasminka are also a good source for this, I just lack the time to go reading 'em all to find them! </p><p>Oh, and two last things: After next chapter, I'll be adding in a special "Interlude" chapter, as there will be a brief time skip (of about 3-4 days). It won't be told in the same narrative format, but I'll have more details on that when chapter five is finished.  Hopefully chapter 5 will be ready for editing next Sunday, but I'll update my progress if it's coming along faster than I thought.  And lastly, I've been mostly editing these past 2 chapters entirely solo; R5H has been busy with his other fic, Falling Stars, and I wholly recommend you go check it out, but also because of that, if you notice any more egregious or even minor dips in writing quality (IE mistakes/unsmooth parts) point them out for me! I'll fix them ASAP. </p><p>Without any further concerns, ENJOY!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Chaos again found her collective consciousness to be a boiling and bubbling pot of whims and wants as she and The Twins awaited Will’s arrival. Only the bearer of The Mantle could give orders to the other Fates, and for all of the dark voids’ clandestine benefits, Chaos had always found their exiled home to be terribly drab and uninteresting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite her best attempts, Chaos’ typical haunts and “hobbies” brought her no joy, for while all of The Fates were comprised of many souls, Chaos had erred in allowing in soul in particular to wrest a higher degree of control over the collective. Worst of all, it was The Child’s.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Child was the original inhabitant of the body Chaos now possessed. She was a young girl of mid adolescence, and of a particularly strong spirit; a facet either overlooked in negligence when selecting the host, or one Chaos hid intentionally. So willful and sturdy was her essence that even the Original Chaos could not divine The Child’s origin, only knowing that the two beings had merged amidst The Child drowning in a freezing lake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With The Child at the forefront of Chaos’ thoughts, she had grown to become more impatient and immature, and now more than ever, could not stand their idleness. The Child roused Chaos’ whole being to a fury; she shook and vibrated on a molecular level, and her cloak billowed from a sudden howling wind that swirled about her. Her thoughts all screamed in unison </span>
  <em>
    <span>“The time had come!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The Fates could ensnare all of Luna Nova’s inhabitants with a snap of their fingers! Bloodthirsty and deadly beings had pledged to kill in their name… and yet Chaos found herself waiting, </span>
  <em>
    <span>again.</span>
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  <span>“AAAGH!” Chaos pulled at her frayed and dying hair with a force that nearly tore it from her scalp. “NOTHING SAYING!? Quiet two being so why are you!? Handle how can you, this infernal wretched silence!?” With her slurred and shuffled words, Chaos shunted the inscrutable distance between herself and the twins, Cause and Effect, leaving her standing between the two. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The twins seemed to barely pay mind to this interruption, as they had been occupying themselves with pastimes that only vaguely resembled the interests and desires their Original selves had; their behaviors in this aspect especially were rendered ridiculous and strange throughout the millenium:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause was reading a phone book from 1978, in Swedish of all languages, from atop a disheveled pile of tomes plundered from the mortal planes, none of which bore any cohesive topic or theme. Effect meanwhile, busied herself with the grooming of a creature shaped vaguely like an animal’s organ, but possessed a disquieting amount of arachnoid legs, a lopsidedly attached pair of wings from a dove, and a tail bearing fur patterns from at least three different big-cats; she named it “Fiela.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause marked her last read page with a burning blemish in the top right corner, denoting where she left off, and spoke beleagueredly. “Can there truly be no peace in this hell with you present, Chaos? An hour! An hour is all We demand in quiet rest, and still you deny Us this.” She closed the book with finality and whisked her stack of tomes away on a sudden hurricane wind, sending papers flying like informative tumbleweeds. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Effect hardly raised any attention from her pet, but spoke regardless. “Did you truly think we can simply harry our hated foes indefinitely? You’ve always been brash, Chaos, but now We’re wondering if you even think at all.” The amalgamated horror cooed upon being pet along the tail, and Effect reveled in glee befitting a mundane-dog owner.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause chortled, “Or it’s that brat acting up again…. Did We not suggest you be rid of that one?” addressed the Original Chaos.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We merely wish to do something! Anything!” Chaos regained her coherence upon being spoken to, and began picking away at a self made wound on her cheek habitually. But she clearly showed no interest in discussing her predicament with The Child; whether this was the Original speaking or not was a dubious guess at best. “The trap is set. Why do we wait? It is impenetrable! Impregnable! To such paltry witches at least; they have no hope of unveiling it’s weaknesses in time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You all </span>
  <em>
    <span>sicken</span>
  </em>
  <span> me.” Will’s words were markedly more acidic than usual. She had approached from behind Chaos, and seemed to have just arrived. “Firstly, Chaos, We would like your position on the effectiveness of our laid trap to remain consistent; you are the only one amongst us who was close to the mind which conceived it. Only you know it’s true potential.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos chided offhandedly, forming a sort of half slurred word that came out more like a growl. The Original meanwhile shouted within Chaos’ psyche: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“He was a poor and foolish mentor! A senile wretch! Even broken clocks chime rightly twice! Tell them! Tell them of the threat that mithril poses!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The Original knew only spite when thinking of the past.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her words of warning were of course ignored by the petulant and prideful Child, who froze up upon retorting internally; her eyes drifted in random directions, and she appeared to be dazed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will continued in spite of Chaos’ supposed stupor, and addressed the Twins. “Secondly these distractions serve us little. They are vestigial now. Vengeance has no use for leisure.” She especially loathed to see any of them, herself included, lapse into thoughts and behaviors that mimicked their old ways of being; before they had been betrayed. For Will, there was only sorrow in recollection.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos threw her hands upwards suddenly, as the internal arguments died down for now. “Words most wise and agreeable! Report! Report! What news graces us?” Her face beamed, revealing her wicked assortment of fangs and teeth that belonged to far too many different species of animal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of all of you to be goal oriented….” Will pinched the bridge of her nose and raised a hand half-clenched as she called on her great power. Her unspoken spell brought Cause and Effect to stand properly against their will, like marionettes. “Fiela” managed to scurry away from it’s maker into the darkness before Will could even attempt to incinerate the thing alongside Causes’ many books. Cause and Effect grunted, groaned, and cursed upon being man-handled, until they were dropped back to their feet in a line with Chaos, who drowned out the twins whispered insults with her own childishly giddy remarks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will eased into a calm state and began to speak. “Our business with the Bathories is done in Ludinghal. Though I’ve much to say on their impudence. The agreement was altered  as needed; I care little for the changed details, what I worry more of is the feeling that they believe themselves to be in control here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Cause replied first, with both her and Effect now free from any mystical forces that forced them to act. “Again irony finds us the butt of it’s endless jokes,” Effect continued, “For those claiming </span><em><span>nobility </span></em><span>in title</span> <span>are proving to be quite dishonest in nature.” The two looked to one another, as if psychically sharing the next thought. “Why suffer the transgression?”</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will sighed, “For the moment, we must endure their pedantic requests. For all the benefits there are to having similarly immortal allies, our typical means of binding and controlling others have proven ineffective. We are sadly ill informed on the properties of vampires, but their actions cannot be influenced by magical persuasion, and the monstrous strength alone of our assembled throng ensures us nothing.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos chided with a knowing grin aimed toward Cause. “We already know how foolish unleashing a feral horde is, don’t we?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause retorted, “The Mantle was Ours to use at the time! You have no right to question Our past authority! The ploy at least faired better than </span>
  <em>
    <span>yours</span>
  </em>
  <span> did when last you held command!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will shook her head and spoke plainly. “Enough, there is nothing to be learned of value from this.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Effect snuck up closer to Will then, chuckling, “Oh? Isn’t there?” Cause seemed to suddenly realize what Effect was getting at, and cackled. “Oooh, We think We like where this is headed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos blinked wildly. “Eh? Be clear you two! We are </span>
  <em>
    <span>thankful</span>
  </em>
  <span> to not always know what’s going on in another’s mind!” Will raised a silencing hand toward Chaos, who grumbled, and gestured quickly with a shaky hand, bidding the twins continue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The twins’ voices’ obliged as one. “A snag in the plan! A foible forgotten! The academy possesses its own defences; defences we </span>
  <em>
    <span>must</span>
  </em>
  <span> account for!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will nodded. “Hardly forgotten. We remember the barriers well.” She raised a brow, “You’re point in mentioning them is…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yggdrasil!” Where the twins exclaimed, the other two briefly seemed at a loss for what was being hinted at, and so Cause and Effect continued. “Magic has returned in full! Where we too have grown in power, so has Luna Nova! The barriers will not be as we remembered…. We fear our strength has not grown proportionally the same; We will not be able to pierce them with might alone! And so to past failures we look for success!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos rubbed at her chin, humming with an incoherent tune. “We hadn’t accounted for this detail… has Will lost her touch?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will was briefly engulfed in blindly white fires which had Chaos leaping away in terror. Satisfied that her erratic sister was quelled from further snide comments, Will spoke. “Our inability to destroy the academies fail-safe is indeed, troubling, but hardly insurmountable…. In fact, We believe We understand what you may be hinting at.” Was Will smiling? If so, it was only for the faintest of moments. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause and Effect, seemingly on the same wavelength as Will now, conjured forth their illusory mists, and projected an image of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Noir-Rod.</span>
  </em>
  <span> They regarded it, “Where magic’s decline was a good omen for humanity indeed, it restricted our means for seeking vengeance! We relied on the actions of a single woman of bitter and pathetic pursuit! Our temptations served well to unknowingly guide her actions; her weapons were marvelously destructive, and uniquely blended the modern and the olde…. Though, perhaps we needn’t rely on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>olde</span>
  </em>
  <span> ways.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will had heard enough, she knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> what to do next. “The weapons of mundane men shall herald our victory then, and open wide the gates of Luna Nova for beasts most magical to rip and tear, until it is done.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eh? The Mundane? Did We not agree long ago, since the Hunts, to leave out the mundane world in pursuit of our vengeance? It is for their own good.” Chaos pleaded in an almost desperate fashion, the voice of The Child clearly holding sway now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will bore a daggered stare into Chaos’ own eyes, and approached slowly with a rising anger in her voice. “Times have changed, Chaos! Humanity has grown stronger! The mundane world has a chance to be roused to a fury and emerge </span>
  <em>
    <span>victorious</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos shook her head furiously and threw back one arm, dismissing the notion. Though The Child was not alive for the making of said agreement, she shared the memory. “A pact made is a pact kept!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The twins began to speak after sharing worried glances, knowing that this wouldn’t end well. “Calm yoursel—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Will would not have her own words used against her, “No formal pact was made, and We will hear your complaints no more! We can sense it; that detestable urchin has polluted your ambition!” Will stepped ever closer and shot her right hand out towards Chaos’ throat and snatched it tightly. “Humanity may praise or curse us; it matters not. All that matters is vengeance! Vengeance shall liberate us! Liberate humans from the foolishness of their forebears! So long as magic flourishes, the world draws ever closer to doom!” The grip around Chaos’ neck tightened; white hot energy built at Will’s fingertips, scarring the already somewhat rotten tissue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos clawed at her own neck and made attempts to screech and scream, but only wordless air followed. Cause and Effect shouted above them. “The Pact suffers no infighting! Cease! For all our sakes!” It all fell on deaf ears.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Where Chaos couldn’t speak, Will intuitively guessed the contrarian witches’ thoughts “Chaos… no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Child</span>
  </em>
  <span>…. You weep for humanity now, but We have seen your desires played out in full. You are no different than the rest of the souls who comprise your </span>
  <em>
    <span>essence</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” With that final word, Will tossed Chaos a foot or two without effort or thought, like she was discarding a used rag. “You are </span>
  <em>
    <span>cruel</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You are </span>
  <em>
    <span>merciless.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Perhaps more so than….” Will wouldn’t dare break her own principles of longing; not on purpose, and so she trailed off. In the realm of The Fates, memories of </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> were a crime against reality itself. She shook her head and regained her train of thought, refocusing with a pointed finger at the fallen Fate, Chaos.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Chaos, We know you can hear Us in there: Your insolent host threatens our mission....Bring order to yourselves or We shall have no choice!” Will made motions to approach further while charging up fel energies in her left palm, threatening to punish Chaos further. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause and Effect intervened then, startled by how quickly the disagreement had escalated into full blown assault. Cause went to Will, and Effect to Chaos, physically parting the quarrelling duo with Will silently seething, and Chaos whimpering. The twins were most afraid of upsetting their patron, who could be watching them at any time, but more so, the twins felt a sudden wrongness. In that brief moment of lucidity, despite all the abuse they had inflicted onto each other and the other two Fates, Cause and Effect felt regret. Neither could remember the full context, not in this moment, but were they not all </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends</span>
  </em>
  <span> once? What had become of them all?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It went just as suddenly and quickly as it came though, and both knew only their distorted selves once more. Cause spoke first in separating their squabbling sisters, “Enough you two! A misunderstanding vexes you both! We care not to involve the humans of the mundane themselves!” Then Effect, “We speak only of their </span>
  <em>
    <span>weapons</span>
  </em>
  <span>! Where our magic shall fail to pierce the barriers, a great and mighty cannon shall shatter it as glass!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will trembled in the clutches of Cause; were it not for her more tempered behavior and penchant for thinking ahead, she would have blasted Cause with any number of spells for getting in the way of due punishment. Instead, Will regarded the group with a whispered statement that stung like a surgical blade. “We will not tolerate any further hints of nostalgia to sully this domain of hate! No more sentimentality and whimsy! None of it!” Will suddenly burst into a shout, and shoved Cause away from her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“We all swore oaths in our own blood and tears, when death first claimed us, that yearning and softness will have no place in our hearts!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The reminder of their original deaths brought back flashing images in their minds; the day of the betrayal: The Grove in The Forest, the scornful stare of The Deceiver, </span>
  <em>
    <span>the pain.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Even where they may forget, the earth would always know the foulness of that day; such was it rendered </span>
  <em>
    <span>grey and vile</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will continued, “As bearer of The Mantle, I—” The original spoke from her heart, above the voices of the other souls who dwelled within, going beyond even The Child in how she commanded her vessel. Will’s singular, original voice possessed an accent and was delivered in a language of Will’s forsaken heritage, a sort of proto or ancient Korean.  “—give you three only </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> pardon. Should I see you descending further into such heinous longing, I will visit upon you a suffering yet unknown by any who have lived! Do I—” Only then did the original realize her own mistake; that she had allowed the individual within to usurp the collective. Her briefly singular voice became subtly distorted once again, and could no longer be attributed to any singular dialect or language. “Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>We</span>
  </em>
  <span> make ourselves clear?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Each looked away, bearing varying expressions: Cause was smiling plainly, as she always did, and hid her pain. Effect seemed uncharacteristically downtrodden on the other hand, and her smile became a clear frown, hidden only by the fact that she had turned away from the other Fates.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Chaos on the other hand had fallen into a somewhat curled up position on the ground, having only lifted herself up by a single arm, where the other lay slack against her form. Her cowled visage faced the ground, where the teary sorrow borne from the trauma of The Original, and the frayed bits of humanity that remained of The Child slowly twisted and malformed itself into a blank, stonewalled stare. She grit her teeth with such force that one cracked while The Child ‘s rage pushed nearly all thoughts of sentimentality from her mind, not out of any desire to obey Will’s orders, but because now she was wholly fixated on a newer, much more petty pursuit of vengeance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will followed up on their original line of logic, wishing above all else to be done with frivolity and distractions. “We approve of your plan. We’ve no need to extend further efforts into amassing minions or allies. We will allow the mundane world to persist unmolested by our desires for now…. But know that so long as We bear The Mantle, we as a coven shall give no pause if the need for forced servitude of mundane individuals is required. All of their lives will be forfeit regardless should we fail in our task.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The twins nodded in agreement, needing no further prompting or convincing, while Chaos rose and hid her stern grimace behind her hood. Will pointed first at Cause, then Effect. “Now go, you two. You are to procure a weapon of terrible power and strength from the armies of the mundane. Then you shall abscond with a vessel to deliver the wrath of your chosen implement; bring it to the castle where the Bathories wait. From there, all that remains is the execution of our scheme; We expect results.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos spoke lowly, almost gutterly, “And what of Us?” She was surprisingly lucid given her boiling rage. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Return to Luna Nova. Watch, and do not approach. Should our prey show signs of flight, or obtain insight into the nature of our trap, ensure they cannot escape; conduct the ritual.” Will turned about suddenly, and began walking away into the void. “We shall see to the enthralled beasts; they shall be made ready for presentation to the Bathories.” Will paused briefly mid stride to regard the fates, but did not deign to turn her head. “Dismissed.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And so an even greater darkness engulfed the realm, hiding the Fates from each other’s sight as they went on to complete their assigned tasks. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda had just completed her third lap around the first floor of the academy, and her feet were starting to ache. Her boots weren’t exactly made for casual strolls, though nothing about this was leisurely. She was awash in worries: the dangerous witches, her relationship with Hannah and Barbara, and now Constanze and her late family. Amanda hoped the walking would do her some good, and Constanze didn’t like the idea of a small crowd gathering around outside her door, so the gang agreed to take shifts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda was relieved of hers an hour ago, and was starting to find all this quiet to not be very helpful. As a woman of action, downtime like this just made her presence feel superfluous, despite the danger that most certainly still lurked. If anything, she wanted to go back and talk to Constanze more, but after earning a few more German swears and insults thrown her way (some she unabashedly pocketed in her mind for use later), Amanda realized Conz needed a break.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At her wits end for where to wander next, Amanda resigned herself to a surprisingly comfy bench. It was bathed in rare sunlight that peaked through the otherwise cloudy December sky; a refuge from the gloom that hung over the academy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda slumped forward, hands dangling over her knees, and eyes sullenly inspecting the patterned floor tiling. There was nothing to be but wait.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oi. Amanda.” Such a dulcet monotone could only belong to Sucy. She approached from the right, garbed in her initiate Antiquarian robes, and clearly tired as noted by the bags under her eyes; more bags than usual at least.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda lifted her gaze to meet Sucy’s and puffed out a heavy sigh. “Sucy.” She had little energy in her voice; it had all been spent earlier that morning, and it was only three pm. She had questions for her friend of course, but was now the right time to ask them? Did Sucy come wanting conversation, or were they just ships passing in the midmorning light? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy answered the silent questions stewing in Amanda by taking a seat beside her. She laid back against the cushioned bench and shimmied herself into a comfortable position; her eyes closed sleepily, but she did not come here just to rest. “I imagine you want those answers right about now?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda looked back toward the floor, and then the window. The sun was bright, but it wasn’t glaring; it’s glow was a welcome change of pace, even if the rest of the landscape visible from the window seemed a bit dreary. “Yeah. I mean, is there ever going to be a better time?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe.” Sucy shrugged, but otherwise did not move from her position. “But neither of us want things to go sour; between us I mean.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ve got enough to worry about. Now ain’t the time to get petty.” Amanda twiddled her thumbs, bracing herself for another heavy conversation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright.” Sucy slowly roused herself to a more straight and proper sitting position, and faced Amanda. “I apologize.” There was nothing else said; it seemed sufficient in Sucy’s eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda waited a solid thirty seconds for more to be said, though she only turned to look at Sucy in turn about ten seconds after the words were spoken. When it was clear Sucy was waiting on her to respond, Amanda obliged, albeit hesitantly. “And uh… I’m… sorry? Too?” She rolled her right wrist and hand as if encouraging Sucy to offer a bit more than just a platitude.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy just shook her head. “O’Neill,” She sucked in some air then and allowed her stonewall to briefly drop and reveal a more genuine sense of regret: Her eyes were slightly wider, and her lips were pursed; Sucy laid a hand on Amanda’s arm and held it firmly but not roughly. Her voice may have maintained a general monotone, but close friends would catch the subtle differences.  “I’m being serious. So can you meet me halfway at least?”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I guess it’s kinda hard to meet you anywhere.” Amanda cocked her head, unsure of herself and her words, “Like, did I even do anything wrong?” Where usually that statement would’ve likely earned her a jab in the gut, a slap across the face, or a fist to the nose, it was posited in such a way that Amanda was genuinely revealing her ignorance on where to go from here. It wasn’t the most </span>
  <em>
    <span>humble</span>
  </em>
  <span> of gestures, but it was close enough for Sucy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was out of line when talking with you and Lotte. I said some things… in ways that I shouldn’t have.” Sucy examined her free hand during the pause between her words; she spotted a few new bruises, papercuts, and sores earned from the encounter last night and from the scrambling mess going on in the academys’ archives. “Especially to Lotte, but you as well. I was looking to apologize since last night. I heard you were out by the field with Nelson. Things didn’t work out though.” Sucy looked back to Amanda after dropping her hand back to her lap. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda bit her upper lip and wiped her face as she processed this information. Her left foot started tapping to a slow and steady beat; she never liked being still when things got her anxious. “But you stand by what you said. Don’t you?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy nodded. “Mhm. I do. I could have; should have been… nicer, when trying to explain it. It’s a sore topic.”  Sucy would likely never be convinced that what she said was incorrect; she was speaking from the heart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda made a slightly aggravated hiss or groan that led into her next statement: “Gaaah, come on, really? Even about me… er, us?” Sucy raised a brow and pulled away an inch or so, unsure of what exactly Amanda was on about. “Come on, Sucy, you know that whole people can’t change shit is a load of… well… shit.” Eloquent as ever. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy halfways closed her eyes in inquisitive fashion. “Wait a minute, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> comment? That’s what has you torn up.” Sucy seemed to simmer briefly. “Of all the….” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was cut off though by Amanda waving her hands up apologetically. “Hey wait a minute you said meet you halfway. I ain’t trying to get on your bad side here, I just thought we were being honest.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy couldn’t deny that she did indeed seek Amanda out of a desire for clarity, but she still could hardly think as to why that comment she made seemed to haunt Amanda so. “Fine. Go on.” She folded her arms across her chest and looked at Amanda expectantly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look, the idea that… we’re all that similar. All that stuff you said about yourself… it seems like with what you said about us both, well, that those statements apply too and….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damnit Sucy I hate when you’re right.” Amanda gave up any foolish desires to somehow ‘win’ at a conversation like this. “It just hit me hard. All of it. And I’m kinda regretting… not knowing you more I guess.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy blinked sporadically at odd intervals; she’d been verbally flashbanged. “What the fu—” A lone student in the hall tripped, and her subsequent wipe out made a clattering noise as her books and belongings spilled everywhere. Both Sucy and Amanda stopped to lean out and look at the embarrassed student, a second year who blushed and apologized in a hurry. She gathered her things and eventually left. Both Sucy and Amanda shrugged at one another, with Amanda speaking then, “As I was saying… what the fu—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda interrupted, unknowingly adhering to the unspoken fundamental rule that Sucy was not permitted to swear. “I know, I know: Why this all of a sudden? I’ll be just… wholly honest I guess. What pissed me off most about what you said is that I felt it all lined up for my life too; mostly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy resigned back into a resting position as she gathered her thoughts. “Hmmmm…. You know, I don’t think Constanze or Jasminka have told me much about you. I didn’t really think about how little we know about each other until just now.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t really tell Constanze much… Or Jasminka really. She knows a bit more than most, I think, but given I likely only talked to her when, you know,” Amanda made a motion as if she was sipping from an invisible flask and then a motion resembling smoking something intangible. “So my memory ain’t really the best for that. I think she just wanted to comfort me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy nodded, though still kept her eyes closed now. “Ah. I see. Well, if it’s any consolation, the best time to do something important was yesterday; the second best is now.” She opened her right eye and glanced at Amanda. “So what will it be?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda rubbed the back of her head and ran the same hand through her hair, fidgeting with it as if the style was wrong despite it appearing fine. “I mean, aren’t you really busy? Hell I’m surprised you’ve even been given a rest from your research anyway; aren’t those Antique guys—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Antiquarians.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, whatever, aren’t they no nonsense types? Also yeah, why the name?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy’s face scrunched up a bit. “Isn’t it obvious… and what am I, a triviapedia article?” She looked more directly at Amanda, but continued to sit comfortably in a rested position; she simply turned on her side. When she saw Amanda was genuinely curious, Sucy rolled her eyes. “They’re professionals, yes, but they aren’t stupid. Even our best awakening spells couldn’t keep me from dozing off while reading those dusty old books. A dozing agent is useless. Better to have me be fully rested. As for the name… long story short because I refuse to suffer through trying to teach you history—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> bad of a student am I…?” Amanda nervously chuckled. Sucy’s frown deepened and she cleared her throat knowingly. “Right….” Amanda dropped the faux smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Magic came to Earth a long time ago. Not all humans knew how to handle it well. Some did. Some of those that did got together and decided they should learn how to imbue magic into items. They did that, and found out how dangerous magic could be when harnessed wantonly. Some things made were too dangerous to ever be used again, or at all. Ta-da—” Sucy threw up the laziest jazz hands ever, “They called themselves Antiquarians, because they kept the world safe from dangerous magical artifacts, and otherwise collected and traded in them. They’ve evolved since, but the original principles remain.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh. Neat. See, was that hard?” Amanda held her arms outward and her hands upward, shrugging exaggeratedly. Sucy groaned in response and faced the other direction. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda chuckled and Sucy allowed herself a brief smile, but quickly shooed it away when turning back around to continue the conversation. “To answer your question: no, I’m not busy right now. I should be sleeping, but I don’t think I’d be able to rest easy without at least getting this out of the way.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda let her arms relax and fell back into the comfy bench with a satisfied grunt. “Right. So, let’s have at it then eh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Want me to start?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no, I think I just want to get this question especially out of the way: Why are you with the Antiquarians? And… why do you seem so afraid? I didn’t know you could feel fear frankly. You were talkin’ like this is basically the end for you.” Amanda had her head tilted now so that her and Sucys’ eyes met. “Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy made slight and careful movements with her hands; they involuntarily made gentle fists. “You’re not going easy on me to start. Good. Guess I don’t have to go easy on you then.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda nodded. “When was shit with me involved ever easy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy allowed her grin to be seen, “Can’t recall. Anyways,” though it faded fast. “I joined because I really have no choice. I’ll be blunt—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“More than usual?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy nodded. “I don’t… actually think I’ve even shared this with Constanze.” That set off the alarms in Amanda’s head that this was </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> much a private matter. “I think everyone knows I’m one of the black sheeps of the academy; I accept that. I’ve always been one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean, you have some… less than sociable tendencies I guess?” Amanda scratched her cheek.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not what I mean. I mean what I study; poisons, hexes, curses, mushrooms, dangerous and rare creatures… and most recently, summoning and communion.” Sucys’ eyes temporarily averted themselves from looking at Amanda; was she feeling embarrassed? Vulnerable? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Guilty</span>
  </em>
  <span>? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Communion with…?” Amanda needed to know more, but she didn’t like where her thoughts were leading her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All kinds of things. The most accepted school and also the most fundamental is of course centered around the Wyld Fae.” Sucy sighed. “Seem’s I’ll have to play at professor for a moment with you regardless; listen well, I’m only saying it once.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda nodded silently and rubbed her eyes, making it clear she was paying full attention. Sucy nodded in turn and then began her explanation. “Wyld Fae are what we know most. Goblins, trolls, giants, sprites, and so on; even minotaurs if you’d believe it. It’s their official classification, but more so, it’s their </span>
  <em>
    <span>kingdom</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda sucked in her lips and tried to make sense of her memories with Cidwe, the faerie she stayed with during her last “work trip.” They were a sprite of vague humanoid shape, but notably, their head was tear-drop shaped due to the fact their forehead ended just a few hairs above their thorny eyebrows, and turned into a closed rose-bud that served as their “hair,” for lack of a better term. Their skin was a sunlight yellow, they possessed wild verdant eyes, and they eschewed any notion of consistent gender or sex in both form and address, as they changed both semi-often. Amanda thought back to Cidwe’s words; the cryptic hints and clues dropped on the nature of their domain, which Amanda recalled as being somewhere in a place called </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Canopy Causeway</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Supposedly, this was part of a larger </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fae-Wyld</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Didn’t they say something about a king?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Things were starting to make more sense.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Sucy parsed Amanda understood what she was implying, she continued to explain. “But it doesn’t end there. There’s... “ She counted on her right hand four fingers. “Four forms anything we call </span>
  <em>
    <span>fae</span>
  </em>
  <span> take: Wyld, Cinder, Gloom, and well, more scholarly witches debate the status of Rust, whether they’re Fae or just a type of spirited object, like the ones Lotte speaks with; I’ll spare you the controversy their, it’s just academic nonsense. For all intents and purposes, they’re Fae.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda wracked her brain, trying to cohesively put together this view of the world, imagining whole other realms based on the names given, allowing her imagination to run wild and paint a picture. “So… you were learning how to commune and summon those kinds too? That’s what you're implying I mean, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy nodded. “It isn’t strictly forbidden. But even a terrible student like you would recall that even Finnelan didn’t speak much or anything about there being other kinds of fae. We aren’t meant to go looking for those kinds.” She cracked her neck and winced at the slight pain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why though? Why keep anything like that secret?” Amanda tried to answer her own question then, pinching at the end of her chin. “Are they just that dangerous or unpredictable?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy squinted and shifted her mouth to the left and then right, as if sampling a dish and deciding on whether or not it’s taste fit her pallet. “Hard to say. It’s not even really a well kept secret…. Let’s call it lying by omission. Besides, even Wyld fae can be dangerous, and they’re probably the least predictable of the four kingdoms. But with magic dying out, from what I glanced from some illicit locked away tomes—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You stole ‘em? From where?” Amanda cracked a half smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Sanctum of The Nine, deep below the sewer system; there's a library in their full of </span>
  <em>
    <span>interesting</span>
  </em>
  <span> reads.” Sucy was smiling most mischievously now. “I blackmailed Badcock into squealig after I overheard some of the goblins talking about doing the monthly cleaning down there; they seemed a bit scared.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda whistled, she was wholly surprised and impressed by Sucy’s sneak-thief side. “Blackmailed her? With what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy briefly thought of Lotte and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nightfall</span>
  </em>
  <span>; the memory elicited a chuckle. “Oh, nothing really. But it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite</span>
  </em>
  <span> embarrassing. Turned out Babcock wasn’t even aware of just what was down there, but like all of the veteran professors and staff, she knew how to get in. That’s all I wanted, and that’s what I got.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda clapped thrice. “Who knew you had it in you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you saw the hijinks me and Akko got into when no one was looking, you wouldn’t be surprised by this.” Sucy lifted her palms up in a shrug before continuing. “Anyways. From what I understand, the other three kingdoms fell dormant when magic went on it’s decline. A scroll I never was able to fully translate mentioned something I think was called </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Four Kings Gambit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Seemed like some sort of conflict over magical wells or something. I think maybe that’s why we haven’t really seen or heard anything about the other kinds, but they’re certainly awake now.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda gulped as she believed that Sucy made her last statement with negative connotations. “Ehhh… how d’ya know?” Her fear didn’t have Amanda really wanting to find out, but surely this had to loop around to Sucys’ personal problems somehow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“After a few months of sneaking into the Sanctum, I eventually learned how to… how to…. I summoned one; a Cinder fae, right beneath the school in the sanctum. It… wasn’t pleasant.” Sucy seemed genuinely afraid to recall the event; it was the first time Amanda had ever seen her express genuine fear or dread through her expressions. Even with the attacks from these strange witches, Sucy carried herself with grim resolve. “I was never very religious. I’m still not. But back in The Philippines—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda nervously broached, “The Philippines?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you seriously never find out where I was from?” Sucy lifted her head, insulted by Amanda’s ignorance. Amanda could only chuckle and whistle it off. Sucy groaned deeply before letting her head fall back into the cushion of the bench; she closed her eyes and continued. “A lot of catholic churches are there. I remember when I listened in on a service once when I was really young, maybe six or seven. They were talking about hell, damnation, all that nonsense.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy shook her head. “It was their talk of things called daemons that stuck with me. The pastor almost seemed raving mad with how he described them.” Sucy then opened her eyes and moved a hand to slowly disrobe herself just so that her right shoulder and upper breast were visible. She was terribly scarred by burns that would never heal naturally. The wounds themselves no doubt stretched all along her right side and possibly to her thighs, but it was clear from just this glimpse that it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda hissed as if sensing the pain empathetically just by looking at it, to which Sucy then hid the wound before speaking once again. “That thing. I could only call it a daemon; it nearly killed me.” There was no sorrow or regret in Sucy’s voice; the past could never be undone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda covered her slack jaw and open mouth. “Sucy….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want your pity O’Neill. But I will warn you: That event set me down a path that’s led me here, and it will most certainly lead me to an early grave. Professor Lukic saved me of all people; she was both terribly angry and fascinated by my ability. She ended up pulling on some old connections she had and I was given an ultimatum, one I should have seen coming a long time ago: Join with an establishment of witches who would control and monitor me, but would allow me to act with a semblance of freedom and put my knowledge to use, or be hunted.” Sucy wiped an eye, feigning it as though she was simply tired or otherwise bothered by a bit of grime on it, but instead wiped away a single tear. Her voice did not shake or indicate her body's desire to weep though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hell….” Amanda snapped out of her stupor and started putting together proper responses. “They’d hunt you? Just, hunt you? No way, I wouldn’t let that fly.” She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>angry</span>
  </em>
  <span>; how could someone be hunted for what they know? For such a simple mistake? She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>naive</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy loathed this naivety. “Those weren’t their exact words, Amanda. But that would be the reality. I would’ve been expelled for one, so I’d no longer have a home. I—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But The Phillipines—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was where I was born, but it is no home.” She squinted angrily. “Now stop interrupting.” Amanda could only comply with a heavy sigh and weak thumbs up. “Good. I’d be expelled; no home. There’s no way I’d get into any other academy with that incident tacked onto my history, and worse, my skills and passions have never settled well with common witches, or worse, non magical types…. My appearance does me no favors either.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy paused for a few moments, and Amanda made a gesture as if asking to speak, to which Sucy raised a hand, obliging her. “I always kinda assumed you were, like, albino, or maybe it was just a weird gene you got. Not to be rude—!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re not. It’s fine. I don’t rightly know what it is myself, but beyond that, I’ve always been a fair deal more resistant to all kinds of poisons compared to others. I don’t think that’s normal by any means.” Amanda could only nod and shrug. “I’ve always had a feeling nothing was really </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> about me. So it only makes sense I’m forced to live in shadows, helping to contain and conceal all the other abnormalities in the world. Irony’s a bi—” A bird suddenly hit the window, causing both witches to be startled. “Ah… poor guy.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hope he’s ok.” This was luckily confirmed when the bird managed to make itself visible again, flying up, and pecking at the glass before heading off and away. “Phew.” They both sighed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, I answered your question. Now answer mine; fair?” Sucy put her left hand over Amanda’s own and squeezed. “I know we’ve all had a pretty heavy week, so after you tell me what you need to we’ll call it a day on this whole catching up thing. Deal?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda squeezed Sucy’s hand in return. “Deal.” She nodded resolutely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good. So: Why did you cover for Constanze when her mini-jet-engine broom blew half of Finnelan’s office to hell? You knew you’d be expelled.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda was prepared to answer any question; except that one. Amanda’s patient gaze turned into one of loathing and annoyance. There was nothing she hated explaining more than </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> incident. First came lying: “Uh, duh, I watch out for my friends. And I mean, come on, I was trying to get outta here since day—” Amanda was grabbed by the coif of her button-up and pulled mere inches from Sucy’s face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The Truth, O’Neill.</span>
  </em>
  <span> If you try to lie to me one more time after I revealed to you perhaps my deepest secret, I swear I will make sure you check no less than five times before every meal to make sure there </span>
  <em>
    <span>isn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> a deadly poison embedded in it. I said I’m not religious, but I will </span>
  <em>
    <span>put the fear of god in you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Sucy was perfectly calm when stating this fact, which just made the threat all the more terrifying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda laughed it off with as much bravado as she could muster to mask the existential terror her soul had just experienced upon hearing Sucy’s very earnest warning. “R-Right! Lying? Who’s lying, haha! Just uh…” She went from a high pitched laughing tone to a whisper. “Give me a moment ok?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy let go of Amanda’s collar and closed her eyes as she fell back against the cushion one last time. “Fine. You’ve got five. I want to actually get some real sleep soon you know.” It was understandable but damn did Amanda feel the pressure. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda held her forehead in one hand and took to stand, feeling that pacing would help her think. She went back in forth in the sunlit section of the hallway, and tried three times to start a statement, but quickly retracted it and went back to her thinking. Amanda rationalized long ago that it </span>
  <em>
    <span>shouldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> be this hard to talk about her family and life situation; the answer was simple: She fucking hated it, and them. They were filthy rich by most standards and only concerned with filling their family coffers even further; no law nor moral convention kept them from it. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Amanda started abruptly, as any more waiting would just have her second guessing. “Because I finally felt confident enough to make my own choice.” Sucy opened her eyes and listened quietly as Amanda continued. “Do you think I came to Luna Nova because I wanted to?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy shrugged. “Kinda.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well… I mean I guess a part of me wanted to be here, because, well, the idea that magic was real and maybe some problems could just be waved away with a magic wand… it spoke to the kid in me. I was tired of getting berated and beaten up over failing to meet their stupid expectations.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your familys’ expectations?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda nodded as both of her hands went to her hips; she continued to pace as to channel all the building restless energy into action. “They wanted me to be a good little fuckin’ tool and make them big money, like my brothers did. I swear if you tried to have an actual human conversation with either of them you’d agree with me that they’re fucking robots. All my family knows is self serving bullshit.” She raised her volume for that last bit, as if somehow they could hear her discontent, not that it would do any good regardless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy rose to her feet as well and moved beside Amanda, placing a hand delicately on her right shoulder. “You did what you needed to. But since I’m still a bit hazy on the details here, why would that want to make you get expelled?” She moved closer and to the front of Amanda who offered no resistance. “If it’s really too much right now… we can set it aside.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no. You told me your shit. I’m telling you mine.” Amanda turned to the side as to not look at Sucy for the moment; while doing so, she poured out some water from her flask into her hand and splashed it at her own face. After wiping herself mostly dry Amanda exhaled once quickly and turned back to Sucy. “So: I thought Luna Nova would be my way out, to find something I enjoyed and could make my own. It’d be the first thing I’d ever do that I could claim was done in my own interest, and well, I know that just sounds self serving to, but….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s different, Amanda. You’re not trying to take advantage of anyone. Your family just sounds like they had children for the convenience and utility they offered.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Exactly.” Amanda nodded vigorously, glad to see Sucy caught on quick. “But I couldn’t even have that! I practiced some simple magic, mastered the very basics, all on my own! And it wasn’t enough! It was just… parlor tricks to them. I learned how to fly even! Got good at it too, and you wanna know what they were happy about then?” Sucy waited patiently for the rhetorical to run it’s course. “They were fuckin’ happy they wouldn’t have to waste money on a car! That’s it! No praise, no </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘good job,’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>nothing!” Amanda threw her arms up and let them slap against her sides in disbelief. “If it didn’t rake in any money, it wasn’t worth their breath.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy’s tone took on a somewhat sensitive air as the memories clearly became harder to dredge up. “Mhm… and how did you get into the academy then?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda sputtered. “I had to… well, lie and make a bunch of promises I’m not gonna repeat. For as much as they clearly didn’t give a fuck about family values, for some reason they thought my word meant something to them; that I cared to even humor them with the truth.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So when you graduated… they’d just swoop in and put you to use like your brothers, right?” Sucy brought her arms back to her own chest and folded them across. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I figured that out a few months in, after they started sending me fucking letters. Badgering me constantly. Everything and anything they could do to monitor me, they tried it. So I said fuck it. If I could get expelled, maybe I could just try and get thrown in jail to, or just disappear. Anything to have them just give up on me and leave me alone… but then you guys came along.” Amanda blushed, unable to contain a smile. “Not just Hannah and Barbara, though they were part of it. You guys, just… you're great, I couldn’t just leave y’all.” It ran deeper than that, but Amanda lacked the mental/emotional energy in that moment to muster the thoughts from her deeper psyche.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Amanda paused to think specifically of the event with Finnelan. “But if one of us had to get knocked off the roster, well, I was always ready to volunteer.” She pensively looked away, past Sucy, and toward the now fading sun. “Good enough?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good enough.” Sucy rolled her shoulders and allowed a brief silence to take hold. After it started feeling awkward, she sucked in her gut and prepared herself. “So I guess this is the part where I’m expected to hug you, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. “Not if you don’t want to. You know I ain’t the mushy type.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy nodded, releasing her pent up tension before putting a finger to her chin. She briefly thought before exclaiming, “Eh, why not.” and offered an embrace that was likely to be quick, but was most certainly from the heart. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah c’mere.” It was just as expected; it lasted maybe four seconds, made both of them feel just a bit closer, and helped tie a neat bow on this heart to heart they had. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now if you don’t mind,” Sucy pulled away and fixed up her robes. “I’m going to go whip up a sleeping solution and knock myself out.” She began to walk past Amanda and reached about a ten foot distance before Amanda started speaking again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eh? Oh, yeah, def—” Amanda’s mind, still roughly thinking of the event that had her expelled wandered onto Constanze more generally, and she remembered the harrowing news that had the academy gripped in uncertain dread. “W-Wait… did you hear about—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ludinghal, I assume?” Sucy gave no hint to the emotions surrounding it; needless to say, that part of her brain was running on empty. “I know. Sadly. About all of it. Don’t buy whatever the mundane news is saying: Just know that it was an attack. By what, we don’t know. The Antiquarians have a lot of power and influence spread out over the world, but we’re not miracle workers. Give it time.” Her armed moved up to wipe her own face, and she sniffled. “And give Constanze time to. She’ll need to be alone, trust me.” And away she went, off to a well needed reprieve.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda didn’t bother trying to follow or reply; all that need be said was, and everything else seemed like a waste of breath. They were all tired, so very very tired, and there was still so much to be done. Frankly, Amanda felt she could do with her own bit of R&amp;R, and made way for the blue team dorm with her hands stuffed into her jacket.  </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the sun gave dominion over the Earth to its sister moon, the first of many a champagne glass sounded off with a responding </span>
  <em>
    <span>pop</span>
  </em>
  <span>; Castle </span>
  <span>Čachtice, Slovakia (formerly Hungary), ancestral home to the Bathory bloodline, was lively with festivities after centuries of silence. The midnight aristocracy had lurked for far too long, allowing mortals to sleep with ease and safety at night; </span>
  <em>
    <span>no more. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Bathories, or rather, Nikolai made </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> message clear at Ludinghal: The thirsting dead do not forget, and they do not forgive. These, among many other genuine and pithy sentiments were shouted about in clamorous crowds of lords, ladies, and nobility of all kinds whom the Bathories had inducted into their ranks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Where once stood a fort of middling size, a grander, more theatrical structure was now erected: Čachtice had been reborn along with its enduring queen. The great hall is where the majority of the revelry was taking place, with Vampires not just of the original family present, but of olde dukedoms and noble bloodlines as far flung in time and space as Persia; each having sworn allegiance, genuinely or otherwise, to Lady Bathory, who sat at the farthest end of the room upon an immaculate stone and wooden throne. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was rested within a grand palanquin made of silver and mahogany, with heavy curtains of scarlet satin hiding all sight of the aforementioned Lady. The only living beings in attendance were mortal serfs, almost all of whom served “willingly”, having given themselves to the charms of their respective masters. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They each wore simple robes not dissimilar to friar monks, their expressions appearing to be only vaguely lucid, as if they were in a constant chemical high. Some carried the tails of dresses, others rushed food and horderves about the place (despite their masters having no need to eat and having questionable ability to taste it), while many formed a choir and band of harpists, violinists, and other primarily string based instruments. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The most entrusted of the living attended to Bathory herself, having crowded around her palanquin with great feather-fans. The magically inclined among them chanted without ceasing, necromantic spells, whose true purpose was hidden from the unworthy. One, marked in notably scarlet robes that matched the satin curtains, was designated as The Speaker, the only one currently permitted outside of direct descendants and handmaidens to witness her enduring majesty. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Speaker, with five chimes of a bell, brought the jovially fraternizing nobles to a halt, and called their attention up toward the throne. The servants too gave pause, and eagerly awaited the words of their most beauteous overlord. The Speaker seemed to be an old woman of sixty years, likely a Slovakian local, who interestingly did not seem to be within a trance of any kind; her service was completely willful. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She said “I have heard her majesty’s words! She rouses again from sleep, and has heard of the good news! True-Night has begun to fall once more over the world! Our Allies in the Wyrd Sisters, and our most favored son, have delivered unto us a gift most sanguine and glorious!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The speaker gestured out toward two great wooden doors that lead into the great hall as they began to creak open. The shadows from beyond the gate gave way to a torchlit promenade, where three trumpeters, from both the right and left of the door, took up posts and began playing a triumphant tune. Two drummers accompanied their song on either side, and as the rhythm began to echo about the room, the promenade made its move. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the front was of course, none other than Nikolai, or Lord Zrinsky as he was more likely to be addressed here, flanked by two of his personal guards. Behind them a small throng of twenty serfs, again accompanied by more knights specifically of the Bathory clan, wheeled in carts, dragged bloody burlap-bags, and otherwise paraded about whole heads and limbs of the recently deceased: These were the “unaccounted for” bodies from Ludinghal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The onlookers all clapped, cheered, and laughed at the humiliating and at times perverse ways the bodies were being handled. More wine began to be passed around such that many cups simply ranneth over and spilled to the floor. Some of the most impassioned vampires took to kissing their muses, both mortal and immortal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Nikolai’s parade had reached three quarters of the way to the throne, he raised a hand to halt, and was soon accompanied by Katalin, dressed even more garishly and foppish than usual. The songs of celebration and triumph began to die down as Katalin spoke quietly, addressing Nikolai personally. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her whispers were of a short temper that betrayed her false smile, put on simply to impress and placate the lessers. “We expected a family of corpses and you bring us a city!? How many did you slaughter, Nikolai?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai leaned in to return a few furtive whispers before The Speaker would begin again. “You know I leave nothing to chance if I can help it. This was a precaution, that none might live to strike out against us in their own vengeful fits.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you fear </span>
  <em>
    <span>a mortal’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> wrath? All you’ve done is expose us before we are ready to make our play!” Katalin nearly cracked the basin of her wine glass from the force with which she was holding its stem. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fear? A mortal!? Heavens, no! It seems it is you who fears them, speaking of subterfuge and shadowy dealings! Are we not rulers by </span>
  <em>
    <span>divine right!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Had God not wanted us to rule over the inferior mortals, he would not have blessed us so with this power!” Their bickering would have to wait: The crowd was getting restless, and The Speaker had just finished listening in on Lady Bathorys’ words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Speaker emerged from the shrouded palanquin with outstretched arms. “Before ye I present, men most gentle and wise, and ladies most fair and proper: The fruits of our patient wrath! Visited upon the Von Braunschbanks who aided in sealing away our Queen ages ago!” Her arms swept down and gestured to the many bodies, and only then did she realize just how many corpses were brought in. “Lord Zrinsky, you bring before us a graveyards worth of the dead: Have you faced and won against our old foes in battle?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai gently pushed a fuming Katalin aside and approached the throne. He knelt upon his left knee, and looked up. “Matriarch and queen, I have returned victorious, but with unsated thirsts! Our enemies, the Von Braunschbanks and their countrymen… they are weak!” He gestured behind him to bring forth the mostly intact body of Christofer. “Lo! The </span>
  <em>
    <span>patriarch</span>
  </em>
  <span> of their bloodline, Christofer! Nothing but a pitiful and gluttonous fool who raised neither wand nor sword to me! And behold,” More bodies were brought forth by butcher-serfs, the bodies of Andrea, of Constanze’s uncle Johann, his wife, Gertand, and their son of twenty four years, Albrecht. “Only Christofers’ brother gave me a struggle worthy of notice, and even then it was hardly enough to pay back their crimes against you, dearest mother of mine!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The many nobles present began to gossip, as their kind are want to do; even the enthralled mortals joined in, offering varying opinions and takes on the unfolding news. The Speaker meanwhile returned to listen to Bathory’s word once again, and the keenest of ears could hear her faint and raspy whispers from beyond the curtain. The Speaker returned, and relayed the following: “Nikolai my son I am both disappointed in our prey and in you,” these were words quoted from the queen. “Our pact was clearly made with the Wyrd Sisters that they would lead us to the Von Braunschbanks, and we would cull their family. Where you have completed this task, your orders were both clear and rigid; you were not to slay any others who did not interpose themselves.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The murmurs from the crowds became more audible; some agreed by Lady Bathory’s sentiment, and others rejected it as too conservative and merciful a punishment. Nikolai retorted above their noise. “The crimes done unto you though: Centuries of imprisonment, of stolen power and position! Our rightful rule stripped! Our—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Of course, there was no room for debate in earnest, the queen’s word was final, and The Speaker enforced this rule well. “Silence!” The room became as ordered. “Nikolai, you have disobeyed orders. Despite you meaning well, you have jeopardized our cause. Where the people you killed most assuredly deserved their deaths, now was not the time to enact their executions. We have yet to secure true power; the power of witch-blood.” The crowds began chatting again, more excitedly now, as most had yet to catch word of this particular detail. “Yes, the blood of witches is what we shall claim as our final prize! Queen Elizabeth Bathory shall lead a great and terrible force against an academy of young and virgin witches, known as Luna Nova. It lies on an isle near England, and with our victory there, only then shall we have a clear path toward total domination.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sporadic claps, cheers, and applause marked the given news, but Nikolai and Katalin both remained silent. Nikolai specifically had his eyes turned down to the ground, and he struck the cobblestone once in frustration; his mind roiling: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Had he not served his queen well? What need have they for such underhanded tactics of sneaking around? They had done so for centuries, and that time has passed!</span>
  </em>
  <span> His complaints would go unspoken and unanswered for now, as he was forced to step up and remove himself from the immediate path to the throne. In the shadows on the sidelines, he lurked and contemplated deeply on the matter of his unquenched thirsts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Speaker spoke up again in the meantime. “Hold your eager fangs though, my lords and ladies, for we lack three crucial components to our victory.” The assembled masses leaned in slightly, listening intently. “First, we require good transport to the island. Our court sorcerers and necromancers both lack the skill and know how needed to teleport us by arcane methods; we rely on The Wyrd sisters. Similarly, we must ready ourselves for war, for while it may be an academy of youths, we must expect both a formal and informal resistance! The students, the more stalwart ones at least, shall defend themselves, their professors are no doubt witches of great wisdom and powerful ability; we must be ready!” The many vampires all nodded, some jeered and insulted the idea of witches beating them in displays of bravado. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When all of that had died down, the Speaker made clear the final piece. “Third and most importantly, our queen must be restored to a complete state of un-life! That is why we have called you all here tonight! The final preparations shall be made o’er the coming days! The time will soon be upon us!” The speaker gestured down to Katalin, and spoke words on behalf of Elizabeth Bathory. “Favored daughter of mine, speak your piece.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin curtsied at this, and murmured a chiding comment to Nikolai upon passing him. She stood just a few steps from The Speaker, turned about in elegant fashion, and addressed the court. “Fellow lords and ladies of The Midnight Aristocracy, our most valuable necromancers keep our queen alive through constant attendance, and with </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> aid and cunning, have discovered a ritual to renew her body to its full glory…. But we require blood! Bodies! Living sacrifices by the dozens!” She grinned widely and licked her lips. “We have called you here to entreat you to a glorious hunt! We must take from the destitute and unwanted pools of society, such that they won’t be missed, but most importantly, these persons must be alive; just as we shall take the witches of Luna Nova to be drained by our queen!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She allowed a few moments for the many present to finish off their haunches and drinks as many went to order their serfs to fetch their weapons should they favor any. Others, servants specifically in thrall to the Bathory line too approached from the shadows and offered up instruments of capture and torment. The vampires glanced over each implement like they were picking out wedding rings; they had to feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> right. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course, offering a bloodless hunt to vampires of all people would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>boring</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but Katalin knew how to get them more invested. “Bring as many as your servants can carry! There is no limit in the amount offered, for once we have spent the ones we require to fully resurrect our lady, the rest…” She allowed a bit of dramatic tension build naturally by pausing; nobles love their theatrics. “...shall be wrung out of every vital fluid and served as delicacies! Tonight, we drink as the kings and queens we were always meant to be!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Resounding cheers thundered about the great hall at this sentiment as Katalin raised her claws upward in celebration of this fact. Even she could hardly contain her bloodlust. During this display, Katalin turned about and looked to where her mother sat. Katalin could not see her, but she beamed with a desperate smile: Centuries passed, and even now, part of her knew that nothing would earn her mother’s true adoration; yet still Katalin toiled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai, during all of this, shut out all the raucous shouts and fits of deranged laughter in exchange for a pointed conversation with himself: It concerned the wages of their vengeance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His words all came as a deathly whisper; only he could hear himself now. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Vengeance… is it not won? Their family lies dead, their homes are ash…!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Nikolai pulled out the photo of the young girl who he would come to learn as Constanze. </span>
  <em>
    <span> “Only a girl remains; but she will no doubt die as the rest. Had I killed them all, her too, would my rage… my hate…?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He grunted and crumpled the paper in his tensing claws. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Childish! Why does this vex me so? She is but vermin! They all were….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> This was what upset him most: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“....Uninteresting! No challenge! No glory! What is revenge without the joy of standing triumphant, over bodies! Over flames and cinder!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Nikolai felt his dead veins bulge in his forehead. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Over something worth the damnable effort!”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai’s fragile ego led him to smash a fist against the wall behind him, which only registered to his accompanying knights who flinched backward in surprise. The wall was now cracked where the fist had landed, and Nikolai was left still swimming in his own prideful thoughts. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll find this girl, and stomp her out like the roach she is! Then a thousand more, and then still! More! Until every naysayer and mocking glance is sundered, and sent in pieces to the frozen depths of hell!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> And who would know of hell better, than a narcissist?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For all her daughter’s lapdogged obedience, and her son’s bloodthirsty zealotry, Elizabeth Bathory hardly recognized her spawn as anything but pawns. She silently regarded her adoring hordes from behind the satin curtains, as little but a juicy and necrotic corpse; she saw it all from her single, half dried eye. In this wretched state, Elizabeth could only ruminate on the future to come, and of the power she would achieve should all go well. Hidden to them all, sycophants, servants, and family alike, she’d devour every last unbeating heart of those present if it meant achieving her demented desire of </span>
  <em>
    <span>divine</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>unlimited</span>
  </em>
  <span> power, to which witches blood was the key. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was the morning after the worst of the news had hit the academy, and Akko was fidgeting uncomfortably on the edge of her bunk, with the faded poster of Shiny Chariot still hung on the wall behind her; a reminder of how the years have gone by. She and Lotte had been attempting to discuss recent events in earnest, but both found themselves awkwardly at a loss for the right words. In the meantime, Lotte was gathering up her belongings, beginning to pack up a few suitcases at a sluggish and troubled pace.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Each had felt a heavy weight upon their shoulders ever since the terrible news reached their ears; it could only mean one thing: The world was not safe with magic returned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Many outlets were already pinning the events on magical groups of interest, terrorists using magic, monsters, or something else tangentially related to a magic fueled force. Ever since the missile crisis, they’d seen their fair share of skepticism and anti-magic focused opinions circulate in the news and public, but this was their first real taste of magic’s potential to cause untold destruction when unrestrained. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the lauded saviors of magic, Akko especially felt a guilt never before known by the normally implacable and cheerful witch. She did not frown, nor sulk, but simply looked at her lap, sitting cross legged on her bed, with a blank expression. Was this guilt rational? Deserved? Inevitable? Could anyone have ever known magic's return could bring with it the possibility of such events? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Did </span>
  <em>
    <span>Woodward</span>
  </em>
  <span> know? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tree-spirit professor had long since been quiet since the grand Triskelion was revived; Diana, Akko, and Chariot all found that to be especially strange. Shouldn’t Woodward be </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> active now that magic was flourishing; and would she even answer Akko’s questions? All of these uncertainties and more ping-ponged about Akko’s brain, creating a flurry of internal voices all responding at once, each giving both unsatisfactory and hesitant answers </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte meanwhile could only think of the future, and know fear. In the midst of packing away some personal effects, she looked to the most recent edition of Nightfall, whose twenty sixth chapter she’d finished reading last night: Most ominously, she remembered the final words of the chapter’s cliffhanger, that saw Edgar, Belle, and Arthur separated from one another, and blown away into diverging timelines with the words from a powerful and mysterious sorcerer:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“May you writhe in interesting times.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte considered the words for a moment as she stared at the novel; had she erred? When Akko came to them years ago, speaking of awakening the words, travelling to Arcturus, and of many other crazed schemes, was she right to just tag along for the ride; to let things run their course? She felt now that perhaps she played too passive a role in shaping those events. She felt a strange mistrust toward the forces that guided Akko to awaken the words: Why had they chosen a child, one who could barely use magic at the time, to go on such a perilous quest of the utmost importance? Was it Chariot’s doing? The strange being Akko called </span>
  <em>
    <span>Woodward</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Lotte had never seen this being in person, and every attempt Akko had made to correct this, all they found was a dank and dusty cavern crawling with long dead roots.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Questions, questions, and more questions, but neither could muster suitable answers, nor did they believe that by broaching them between another would they find any. That said, Akko couldn’t stand just watching one of her closest friends just pack up to leave the academy without saying a word. “Lotte, just what are you going to do?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte was snapped awake, and set her book into the suitcase she was busy packing. Shespoke while continuing to sort her effects. “I don’t think I have a choice Akko, but I have to go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where? Lotte… it’s not safe out there. I mean… not to be paranoid but, what if—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t. Please.” Lotte looked back pleadingly, with a dour face. “I don’t want to imagine it. I just want to go home. I want to make sure I’m with them.” The duo had been hearing Constanze make some noise on and off in the next room over throughout the day; she was still denying anyone entry, to no one’s relief. Lotte couldn’t imagine the pain Constanze was feeling, having lost her family while away from them; Lotte morbidly rationalized that if dark times were upon them, that she’d rather risk dying with them than waste a moment out of their comfort. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Besides, Lotte of all the students knew the academy wasn’t safe; a host of forty or more strange witches and warlocks tasked with “keeping the students safe” don’t just suddenly appear at a location without reason. Luna Nova was likely just as vulnerable as anywhere else in the world, so why be apart from those she loved? This thought naturally conflicted with the love for her friends, and for Sucy especially. It was made clear to her after the spat they had in the arboretum that Sucy was an Antiquarian, and that she was among the strange protectors of the academy: If anyone was going to be in the most danger, it would be her, and her allies.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Was it right for Lotte to abandon Sucy, or any of them for that matter? She couldn’t say, as she didn’t even know if it was right to call her homebound flight ‘abandonment.’ What she did know was that she had a natural inclination to be among her family in Finland, and Lotte was tired of denying her gut feeling; she did plenty of that during her time spent following Akko around. Those memories almost made Lotte bitter of her closest friend, and that’s what she hated most.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte murmured some words she decided against speaking louder before actually continuing to speak. “I’m sorry, just, I just can’t not make sure they’ll be ok.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about graduation? You’ve been at this for years Lotte…. I don’t want you to throw it away.” Akko bit her lower lip, unsure of how to properly convince her friend to stay, unsure if it was even right to try to do so. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care, Akko. Luna Nova was your </span>
  <em>
    <span>dream</span>
  </em>
  <span> but for me….” Lotte regarded her things. What was her dream? “It was just another step in life. If I don’t graduate because I did what I felt was right, then fine. Whatever.” She shook her head, and her tone became slightly bitter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you even… aloud to… you know. Just, go?” Akko stood up and moved to kneel beside Lotte. “I mean, if it’s what you really want, and they won’t let you, maybe I can, I dunno—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte placed a finger over Akko’s mouth, shushing her softly. Her eyes were downcast, and her grim expression hidden. “You don’t need to do anything for me Akko. We’ve done enough.” Maybe pushing her friends away </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> the correct thing to do; was Sucy‘s method wise? </span>
  <em>
    <span>“No,no, no.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lotte’s mind shooed away the notion. “You need to take care of Diana. I’d… I’d stay if I could, but my mind’s made up.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko pushed aside Lotte’s hand with a grunt of anger. “No! No, that’s not the Lotte I knew! The Lotte I knew would find a way! You’re resourceful! You don’t give up when it’s the things you care about most!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Akko!” Lotte furrowed her brow and turned to face her friend with biting sharpness. “Not everyone is like you! We can’t just all bounce back from tragedy like nothing happened! You… you need to learn when to just let people feel things, and do what they need to! E-Even if you don’t like it! You’re just so... </span>
  <em>
    <span>selfish!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Lotte felt like crying, and now, so did Akko. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both were overtaken by deep sadness, left staring at one another with glassy eyes and trembling lips. It wasn’t the first time Lotte had thrown that accusation Akko’s way, but this had been the most heated moment they’d spent in a while. Lotte couldn’t even reason with herself as to why she said those exact words, and instead could only dwell on how as time has gone by at Luna Nova, she’s just felt less and less comfortable in her own skin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a minute that passed by in what seemed like aeons, they threw themselves into each other and embraced. There was no need for words in the apology; they both knew it was a moment of weakness on both accounts. While holding onto Akko, Lotte, whispered: “I don’t want to go.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko replied with a sniffle: “But if you gotta… just don’t forget us, ok?” Such a thing seemed impossible to Akko, but it felt right to say; Lotte felt the worry was all too real however, as she thought back to Sucy…. She’d have to tell Akko eventually. Akko stuttered at first, but managed a cheery tone despite the hints of crying. “I won’t, and Sucy won’t either! Ohh… I wanted to save this for graduation, but…” Akko moved her hands away from Lotte’s back, who allowed Akko to then rummage under her bunk and produce a skull-lantern, not dissimilar from Lotte’s current one, but covered in arcane and esoteric script, and marked by a single arcane gemstone set in the forehead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ta...daaah…” Akko wanted to smile wider, to fire off rockets and set flares alight to celebrate each of her friend’s growth and achievements, but for now, all she could do was weakly grin and turn her gaze sideways. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte was awestruck and gasped. “Akko…! Where did you…. How? When?” She flubbed about the litany of questions that came with receiving such an amazing gift, but she was able to at least get out the most important: “What does it… do? I-I-I mean! I love it! But is it like…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm! Just like your old one! A genuine spirit lantern! Not like that replica one you have.” Akko could hardly give up the chance to at least feel a bit proud of her own knack for gift giving, and puffed up her chest with both arms crossed about it; even if it was Sucy who actually suggested the vendor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait… so this was a person's skull? Like a real one?” Lotte examined it more closely, morbidly curious and a bit creeped out all at once. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eh?” Akko’s veneer of confidence deflated like a high-speed-balloon, and had her scrambling to check the gift again. “Ehhh!!!” Akko fumbled with the thing, nearly dropping it, but was lucky enough to have someone like Lotte around to make up for her own clumsiness. “I’m sorry! Wow! Ah! That’s... really, really creepy! I—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I Love it!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wh… Wha..?” Akko rubbed her eyes just to make sure this wasn’t Sucy in a Lotte suit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I… alright, yes it’s a bit weird at first but, I’ve… just been dealing with replicas for so long. Back at the shop, so much of it is recreations; sure they’re still very magical! They do what they’re supposed to, albeit maybe a bit mutedly… But I hardly ever get to work with the real things like this. I’ve heard from mama that ones like this can have all sorts of extra properties; they’re really powerful!” Lotte wiped away her now drying tears and held the skull-lantern close to her face; every crevice, detail, and etching of incant was handled and maintained with clear care. For some reason, this just felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> to have, like it scratched that itch which had been bothering Lotte so; it wasn’t a cure, and now was hardly a good time to self-introspect, but she’d treasure this nonetheless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Akko meanwhile offered up a silent thank you to Sucy, still unsure of where her macabre friend had even been all this time, and exhaled deeply, feeling like she just finished a marathon. “You better keep that close then! Think of it as like, a piece of us, me and Sucy, to take with you back home! I mean, we’ll be able to visit, right?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y-Yeah! Of course! My… family can’t really get enough of you two actually.” Lotte chuckled, not bothering to hide her embarrassment.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Heheh, then we’ll just have to stop by, won’t we?” Akko rubbed her hands together mischievously, having briefly lost herself in the thought of the Yannson’s cooking, and what wild goose chase they’d no doubt be sent on shortly after arriving. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I suppose you will.” Lotte chuckled and adjusted her glasses before setting aside the gifted skull-lantern and offering a big hug, which Akko accepted gleefully. Despite the stress that weighed heavily on them, they both were glad at least to be able to push past their troubles, and just be glad to be together as friends.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll miss you a lot, Lotte.” Akko was sad to let her friend go, but at least for now, the little chat they had put her in a more comfortable mood. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The same could be said for Lotte, “Mhmm… could you… help me pack? I’ve got a lot to put away, and I was hoping to be out by tonight. If you don’t mind.” Lotte looked back to the messy piles of her own belongings as she broke off from the hug, and was relieved to see Akko, without any hesitation, get to work on packing stuff away… albeit sloppily. “H-Hey! Careful now, or it won’t all fit!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Psh, I’m a </span>
  <em>
    <span>master</span>
  </em>
  <span> at overstuffing luggage! Leave it to—” A knock at the door opened interrupted Lotte and Akko’s work; Jasminka was peering her head to look inside the room curiously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hope I’m not intruding! I just wanted to make sure everything was ok!” Jasminka did her best to be polite, and fully stepped into the doorframe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ya! Hnngh! We’re good!” Akko reassured while desperately trying to push down some of Lotte’s clothes into a suitcase that was near bursting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm… yeah. We’re fine Jasminka.” Lotte regarded Jasminka and then Akko, giggling at the latter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah! Good! I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but while I was keeping watch on Constanze, I had a thought… er, an idea that I need some help with.” Though still sounding jovial there was clear hesitation about Jasminka as she stepped inside, with a now empty snack-bag of chips clutched in her left hand; naturally, she’d been stress eating again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both Akko and Lotte looked to each other before shrugging, and they set aside their things as the latter spoke to Lotte. “What’s wrong Lotte?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need to borrow your crystal ball, Lotte.” Jasminka hummed sadly and approached while her volume dropped to a murmur. “I wanted to do some more research on the tragedy, I think our poor Constanze hasn’t had any chance to hear anything about it since yesterday morning.” Jasminka swayed slowly from left to right, frowning as she looked downcast to the wooden floor. “She said she broke her phone and won’t use her laptop…. I don’t know if she wants to know anything, but maybe, there's hope?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko sucked in her lips and looked to Lotte expectantly. Lotte shared a similar pensiveness about her aura; neither wanted to know any more details than they had to, but if it could mean helping their distraught friend, they’d have to try. Lotte eventually turned back to Jasminka with raised fists up to her chest, clutching them determinedly as she nodded and grunted in the affirmative.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The three got to work: The crystal ball was unpacked and set up on the room’s shared desk, and they began scouring the mundane internet, and witch-net. Mundane sources were repeating a lot of the same of what was already known, along with some frankly baffling conspiracy theories, while witch-net held more interesting tid-bits. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jasminka paused, pointing out over the hunched over Akko and Lotte. “There!” Lotte scrolled back up and Jasminka read the link aloud inquisitively. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Found footage: Ludinghal Incident, vexfulhexful.com….” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko rasperried. “Pff, that weird fan-board site? Isn’t that the site everyone says keeps sharing weird images that get your computer possessed?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jasminka hummed in a displeased manner. “I heard they have really dedicated fandom communities there; obsessed even!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte gulped while Akko continued, “Lotsa weird esoteric witches on there up to no good, but I guess we may as well check it out….” Akko shrugged helplessly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte stammered. “Y-Yeah…. W-What weirdos.” She cleared her throat before turning to both of them, “Hey, can you two get me my wand? I think it’s buried in my clothes somewhere.” A quick lie sent the two casually to dig through the aforementioned belongings, while Lotte, with terrifyingly fast movements, opened up the </span>
  <em>
    <span>vexfulhexful</span>
  </em>
  <span> site, logged out of her moderator-account, and got the page ready for viewing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eh, Lotte, we can’t find it.” Akko said while throwing a shirt carelessly across the room while digging. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte chuckled before pretending to “find” her wand on her belt. “Oh! Here it is! Sorry guys, I got the video ready, haha.... Clumsy me.” Smooth as a rocky waterslide.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jasminka and Akko turned, looked to each other, and shrugged at Lotte’s suddenly awkward behavior. The then group crowded around then and viewed the infamous site:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a page primarily with a black background and purple accents to any textbox or UI element. The text was in white, and mostly everyone was anonymous, with a few brave souls having made fully linked accounts, and then of course some were moderators who seemed to run the joint, marked by red names. This particular page was scrolled down to a section where the video and some comments were in view. The post was notably listed as part of the “ISF” (I’VE SEEN FOOTAGE) subforum, dedicated to found footage capturing magical and anomalous events. The original poster had some words to say regarding the MP.4, and had ominously titled the thread “gods help us all”; it read as follows:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Girls</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
  <em>
    <span> I fucked up. I fucked up by even humoring the idea of posting this but, obv your reading this so I fucked up twice by actually following through. But I can’t just not do something. Fuck what the mundies</span>
  </em>
  <span>—” A witchnet slang term for </span>
  <em>
    <span>mundane persons</span>
  </em>
  <span> or </span>
  <em>
    <span>non-magical</span>
  </em>
  <span> persons, usually found to be “cringey” enough as to never be spoken in good public company. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>are saying on the news, I got the footage of the poor SOB’s who were on site and scene. Can’t say how I got this because I don’t wanna end up in a ditch somewhere two days from now, but that might happen anyway. Believe what you see or not, just know: shit’s fucked.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jasminka commented curiously. “That one writes like Amanda talks; so much swearing. That reminds me, have you seen the swear jar?” She prodded Akko who shushed her in return. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jasminkaaaa, now’s not the time for that!” Jasminka chuckled, flustered by how her mind wandered sometimes, and redoubled her focus. “Ready?” Akko asked the other two. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.” Jasminka nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Here goes….” Lotte started the video and each fell breathless and silent in anticipation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The screen video was initially black, but audio could be heard, all voices notably speaking German, which mercifully was a language the three could all understand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fucking! Take the cap off! Hurry, hurry! Get the damn shot!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> It was a woman’s voice ordering about another woman who seemed to be replying with muffled curses and grunts of frustration; they must’ve just arrived at the scene. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the view from the camera became clearer with the cap removed, the terrible vista of Ludinghal half ablaze was revealed. All three gasped or otherwise recoiled in horror at the sight. The snow had picked up in intensity, along with an intermittent and almost wild wind that blew the reporter’s hair in constantly changing directions. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“We are</span>
  </em>
  <span>—” The reporter nearly fell over from a stumble during her backpedal. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“At Ludinghal, a village facing massive fires! I’m Sofia Strobel with Deutsche Welle</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Are we live!?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The camera-woman shouted over the wind, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Nein! Recording though!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> and earned a nod from Sofia. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Something terrible has occurred out here in the usually serene countryside! A sudden fire must have broken out and gotten out of control, as it’s swallowed nearly half of the town. Me and my crew were driving along a nearby road when we spotted the smoke and came to investigate. We are catching signs of</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sofia dropped the mic upon turning to face the town. Her voice was barely audible over the wind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Mein Gott….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The Camera woman frantically approached and zoomed in on the particular event Sofia was stunned by, and saw that between the harsh snowy winds, a small group of survivors was fleeing from the town, nearing its outskirts. They were perhaps a mile away from the hilltop the news reporters had set up on, but something was clearly pursuing them; something big, airborne, and fast. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“K-Keep Rolling?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The camera shook, as if the holder had been struck. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“YES KEEP ROLLING IDIOT! VICTOR, GET THE TRUCK MOVING, GO</span>
  </em>
  <span>—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her words fell quiet again as the looming figure above the fleeing group ascended and then swooped down sharply like a great roc. It was no majestic bird of thunder however, but a being of taught white skin with claws roughly three feet in length. Beneath those were leathery and fleshy wings, and most horrifying was it’s nearly skeletal face of questionable detail; the heavy winds obscured such things, but Akko swore it sported fangs like swords. The beast snatched up one of the three running innocents by the arms with such velocity as to remove them from their torso, and otherwise send them flying forward. Lotte covered her mouth and withheld her lunch while Akko was forced to turn away; Jasminka meanwhile endeavored to watch on, and sucked in her gut as a sign of her soul being steeled for what was to come.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> The horrified screams of the survivors barely registered over the storm, and were then further drowned by the unholy bestial screech from the bat-thing that pursued them. The crew and the watching trio of witches now noticed that alongside the aforementioned noises, that screams, and were coming from the town. The bat-thing was not done, and in a matter of ten seconds, it had gone from it’s first victim to the second, bounding across the snowy earth like a lion in pursuit. The first woman suffered no better a fate than the man, being bit across the chest and thrashed like a chew toy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko turned back around and pushed away the crystal ball, pausing the video. “I can’t, that’s too much!” She was weeping, but any sadness was overtaken by disgust and anger. Lotte pushed her chair back and choked on a rising bile in her throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jasminka began to speak, but was interrupted. “I… I don’t think we should show Consta—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. Show me.” How long was Constanze standing behind them? None of them knew, but her ability to cry had long gone, noted by her red cheeks and bloodshot eyes; did she even sleep? She wore the same clothes from yesterday, and her self-inflicted wounds were just as poorly treated then as they were now. Her hair was messy and had been sloppily cut short to about neck length, but for how dreadful she appeared, Constanze’s expression was blank and cold, just as her voice was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In making her presence known, Akko, Lotte, and Jasminka froze up, and looked to Constanze with horrified expressions plastered on their faces. Lotte fared the worst of the social stress in that moment, and fainted, falling to her left which mercifully had a pile of clothes and pillows to catch her. Akko was dead silent and trembling with anxiety; even her foolhardy confidence wouldn’t serve her well in a situation like this. Jasminka moved to console Constanze with a hug, but a raised palm from the German witch halted her, and she began to sniffle, and decided instead to tend to the fainted Lotte.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now. Move.” They parted for Constanze without a second thought, who was all the more frightening for how calmly, slowly, and carefully she sat down where Lotte once did, pulled the crystal ball toward herself, and laid her palms out flat against the wooden desk. She breathed in and out once, and it was the only other sound that dared fill the room. A single finger raised up and pressed against the magicked orb, continuing the gruesome video:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The beast made short work of the woman and started off toward the third survivors, but a third voice, that of a man who the viewers could only assume was from the aforementioned Victor, rang out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Look! At the chapel!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The camerawoman panned up quickly and refocused, spotting a great being of staggering height. The wind cleared up for a brief spell, allowing the camera to catch sight of what could only be easily described as a “Wicker-Man,” a terrible assembly of tree limbs and branches, standing at maybe twenty feet tall with a great fire bellowing in it’s chest, and uncannily humane-esque head, and embers dancing along it’s finger tips. The creature was blowing flames across the town, knowing only destruction, and leaving it in its wake. That was simply the most notable of monstrosities in play from that view alone; keen eyes could pick out dozens more creatures scaling buildings, swooping from on high, or barrelling down the streets in a rage. Of the camera woman’s own volition, the view panned again to spot people signalling for aid on the roofs, but what appeared to be knights on black-winged-horse-back swooped in and cut them down without a thought. The three reporters lost any notion of “reporting” anything at this point; the footage spoke for itself: Hell had come to Ludinghal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“We’re leaving! Go, go, come on!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sofia called out to her comrades and was already sprinting away when the camera moved to her; whether or not something frightened her or if she’d simply seen enough and wanted to flee was uncertain. The view then became less useful as it was panned down, the recording not having been stopped with the camerawoman clearly running with it in hand. The wind picked up again, as though nature herself had visited evil on the crew, and it blasted them from the direction they were running in, causing them to falter and stumble. During the struggle, the camera turned up to catch the blur of several entities circling above. She began to shout and notify her crew, but the sound of steel flashing and flesh tearing marked her untimely end. The braying of steeds and the clopping of hooves muffled the unceremonious deaths of the other two.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thirty seconds of footage simply saw metal boots and greaves pass by before the camera was picked up by one of the Bathory knights. They regarded the camera a grizzly voice befitting an undead-man. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Lord Zrinski, what to do with this device?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Nikolai, whose face came partially into view during the vampire’s inspection of the camera. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t waste our time on toys. Toss it away. There’s still much left to slay</span>
  </em>
  <span>…. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can sense them… northward! Ride north!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The knight nodded and chucked it as instructed, which left the camera viewing the sky at an angle such that only the moon, clouds, and the rising smoke from Ludinghal was visible. The accompanying noise was that still of distant screams, and of Nikolai’s entourage leaving the scene. The video seemed to have been edited to be cut short then, likely due to the hardware failing or batteries running dry. It was finished.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze inhaled and exhaled sharply once more; during the whole video she neither flinched nor spoke. Her expression was as emotionless as a still as ice, and five whole minutes would pass with her just sitting there. In the meantime, Jasminka and Akko managed to re-awaken Lotte and collect themselves from the apocalyptic levels of social anxiety that fell their way when Constanze remade her presence known. The trio each slowly made their way to crowd about Constanze, but made no movement to touch her or otherwise speak, until Constanze broke the silence herself:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s real. Isn’t it?” Her voice was cracked, broken almost, as if used to the point of being lost forever. She still showed no signs of visible sorrow, but it was writhing beneath the skin, just barely contained. No one replied as Constanze turned to each of the three and saw on their expression her sought out answer. When she looked back to the crystal ball, she spoke once more. “Where did you find it?” It was a question, obviously, but the rage and sadness that was barely hidden in her tone made it sound more like a statement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte dared to reply: “Vexfulhexful…. I can show you where later if you like…. Is your laptop—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” ‘Fixed’ was the obvious continuation, and Constanze expected the question. She then rose and shuffled away, with Jasminka following after her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you want help? Food? Water? I can get the nurse, or Diana, anything!” Constanze slowed to a halt at the doorway and she turned to the terribly worried Jasminka. Constanze remembered back over the dreary haze that was the past twenty four hours or so; she said such terrible things to everyone. In apology, where her voice failed her, she simply hugged Jasminka and let what little tears remained silently stain her friend’s vest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thirty seconds of comforting passed before Constanze broke away, with the three stanbots from her room now waiting out in the hallway. Constanze knelt down besides one with a hiss due to how her damaged foot was bending and whispered. The message was then relayed to others by the stanbots while Constanze entered the green-team dorm and gingerly closed the door behind her. “Creator needs medical aid! Quickly! Quickly! Quickly!’ The first stanbot raised its arms and waved then. “Creator needs shower! Quickly! Quickly! Quickly!” And then the final stanbot was up; it seemed to hesitate in relaying the order given. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko, having lost all of her patience by now, yelled. “What, what, what!? Come on you tin can spit it out!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Creator needs…. Amanda! Amanda! Amanda!” The stanbots all waved their arms and repeated their given commands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko sneered in confusion. “What does she need Amanda for?” But the stanbots didn’t answer and she furrowed her brow with comic levels of frustration at their incessant chanting. “Gaaah! Don’t make me get the broom again!” Akko reached for a nearby broom, causing the Stanbots to be sent into a simulated panic, running around with mechanical yelps serving as their cries for help. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as Akko was about to get swatting, Jasminka came up beside Akko and gently squeezed her shoulder while giggling. “Maybe she wants to apologize to Amanda. I’m certain it’s no big deal… right?” Jasminka hated being sad and distraught for extended periods; she couldn’t help but try and look on the bright side of things. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte said nothing, and held a finger at her chin as her mind searched for possible answers to the question, even if it did seem inconsequential at first. The conclusion her mind arrived at was grim indeed: Constanze wanted Amanda, a self proclaimed battle-witch, to help her hunt down the men from the video. Lotte never thought Constanze to be spiteful or vengeful, but she also never imagined the possibility of a town being wiped out by all sorts of terrifying creatures. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte could only hope this quest, if pursued, would not bring her two friends, Constanze and Amanda, down a path of woe and blood. Little did she know, they had all been following said path long before today; Worse things were still to come.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, you’re leaving then?” Amanda was leaning against the doorframe of red-team’s dorm, now a few hours past noon with her freshly steamed leather jacket shining from the light coming in from the window.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte had just finished packing up the last of her effects, and with the satisfying </span>
  <em>
    <span>click</span>
  </em>
  <span> of her trunk being shut, she replied to Amanda. “There’s nothing else I can imagine doing…. I mean, besides just, floating along.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Like I always have</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Her eyes drifted out toward the sunny vista to her left as her mind completed the sentiment she only shared in part with Amanda. “I have to do something… I just hope this isn’t, well….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Running away?” Amanda cocked her head propositionally. The response earned a slight nod from Lotte, which brought Amanda to push off from the wall and unfold her arms about her chest. “I can tell you now, while things seem pretty messed up and weird around here, you’re definitely safer with us and those Antiquarian dudes around.” Amanda thumbed backward, as if gesturing to the whole academies populace. “So if you wanna call it running away, well, you’re just running away into a more dangerous setting right? I mean, given the circumstances…” Amanda shrugged, unsure of how to put things eloquently as always. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right.” Lotte jerked her head back to look at Amanda with an awkward sense of suddentity. “Er… I mean, I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to just endanger myself… for no reason. That’s not fair to you guys.” She swallowed any doubts or ill thoughts she still had on Sucy’s predicament; that issue was settled, so it seemed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What, you think you gotta justify protectin’ your folks to me? Hell no, I understand.” Amanda eased Lotte with a confident smirk. “I just want </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be sure you’re going through it because you know you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t feel like I have a choice… but… I suppose we always do.” Lotte raised a curled finger to her lips and gently bit the knuckle. “Mmmmm…. I mean, I’ve only had a day to think about it; should this take longer? Or even less time? It was all so sudden I….” Lotte let her hand fall and her head droop with a sigh. “Ahhh… it’s just so hard to think right now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No one said it was a race. Er, I mean… shit. Like, I mean—” Amanda sputtered, losing her confident vibes as quickly as they came, blundering through a few statements before eventually regaining composure and poise. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda snapped her fingers. “Got it! What I mean to say is, you just have to trust what your gut and heart are saying. I know it sounds hokey but hear me out: We might not be able to control everything, but we always can find the best choices we have to make to navigate all those twists and turns. And I trust you, Lotte. I got no doubt that if your first thought was ‘I need to go back home to keep an eye on things,’ well shit, you’re probably right.” Amanda shrugged her shoulders, but in a way that conveyed her confidence in the sentiment. “Am I right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte processed the statements once, then twice; she was always very meticulous, if a bit of a worry-wart. She was always quick to second guess herself, and this was no exception. Lotte appreciated the reminder from Amanda, on the trust held for her; it was mutual. She saw no flaw nor reason to further question things, for she knew that with every moment spent not doing what she needed to, she’d spend it doing nothing besides thinking in circles.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re right.” Lotte puffed up her chest a bit and rose to her feet, speaking while doing so. “I’ve got all my things. I’ll make for the leyline portal and get home safe; promise. If you need to contact me though.” Lotte whipped out her wand and spoke a simple conjuring spell: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Shayshana morana.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> It summoned a sort of witch-net like display from magic dust swirling up from the wand’s tip. “Just call me, or send a message, ok?” Lotte flicked her wand briefly like a conductor of a band and shooed away the magicked display. “You know I’d never abandon you guys….” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She didn’t say it, but Amanda could feel Lotte was asking a question </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Right?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> So Amanda replied in kind with a thumbs up. “Right.” It had Lotte smiling, and the two shared a quick hug before Lotte tried and failed to pick up her big trunk of stuff by hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ghhhh…. So… heavy…. A little?” Lotte barely dragged it a few inches before Amanda swished her own wand at the trunk:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda called on the spell which helped her transport her motor-bike while flying. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Minimazious.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The heavy suitcase became small, almost handheld sized, and Lotte was immediately relieved of the burden. Amanda’s Finnish companion smiled cheerfully and gathered up the rest of her things; coat, broom, lantern and all, before heading out. She left Amanda with a contented look that was unmistakably Lotte’s and unmistakably determined. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda watched Lotte leave with a satisfied smirk of her own, hopeful at least that her friend’s fears and woes both known and unknown to the others were temporarily alleviated. Next came a prospect that Amanda was unsure of how to directly approach: Rhe weight of her unanswered questions on why she had been called only grew upon turning to face the blue-team dorm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door was shut, and Amanda couldn’t help but think back to yesterday, where the prospect of even looking inside, let alone talking to Constanze was off the table. She also thought of Sucy’s advice, about letting Constanze be; did it apply when Constanze herself was calling on someone to talk to? Likely not, but Amanda wanted to do right by her friend. “Now or never.” She spoke aloud to herself, stretching her arms above her head and sighing before she inevitably approached the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her hand fell upon the knob immediately the door gently creaked open, earning a word from Constanze. “Amanda?” Her voice had thankfully cleared up from before; she’d been reportedly eating and drinking regularly again, and seemed to generally be in a better headspace. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda replied before moving an inch more. “Yeah. It’s me…. Are you decent? Am I good to uh…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Please.” Constanze was eager to remove the physical barrier between them; while she was far more comfortable speaking to someone like Amanda or Jasminka, she still preferred for now to write out more elaborate responses, or use text to speech. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Speaking of Jasminka: Amanda opened the door fully, and to her surprise found the very same witch sitting on her old bunk across from Constanze, who was cross-legged on her own bed with a now fixed laptop at the ready. “Eh? Jas? Didn’t think you’d be here.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jasminka was pensively glad, but she was clearly suppressing concern noted by her off-center stare. “Mhm! Constanze wanted us to meet up, like old times.” Nostalgia was merely a tertiary force though, and Jasminka hummed worriedly. “And she wanted to… ask us something important.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The text to speech of Constanze’s laptop interjected; it was very much </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> voice, but it was even more clinical and sterilized in tone than when Constanze actually spoke. “I wanted to talk about what I’ve decided to do. It’s only right you both know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda took a quick breath and rolled her shoulders. “Alright, I mean, if you’re good to talk.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m.” Constanze paused, having briefly failed to keep up the full facade of her stonewalled expression, but corrected the mistake quickly and resumed typing. “Fine. I’m fine enough to talk. I didn’t ask you to be here without thinking this through. It’s been on my mind since yesterday.” Constanze stared at her computer, the words’ she’d typed, and exhaled through her nose. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jasminka patted the the spot on her bunk to her left, inviting Amanda over. Amanda took her spot, and sat uncomfortably upright. “So, what’s up?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze looked between them both and lifted her fingers off the keyboard as she conjured her thoughts forward to make proper sense of them. The text to speech started up shortly after. “I feel of all the people who I need to ask about this, you two come first. Sucy too, but I’ve heard she’s quite busy. I’ll speak to her alone at a later time.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re always here for you Constanze; we’re happy to hear you out.” Jasminka reassured Amanda nodding in agreement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Amanda. You haven’t seen it,” Constanze started, “But we have video footage from what happened at Ludinghal. I need you to watch it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda’s eyes went wide in surprise. “Wait, seriously? You’d think with all the military goons we keep seein’ around the site that info’d be locked up tight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The video we saw was apparently from before anyone but a news crew arrived at the scene… it’s… horrible.” Jasminka tugged on Amanda’s sleeve, and looked to Constanze with a plea:. “Does she really need to watch it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze nodded, “If I can stand it, she can. She needs to. It’s important for what I’m going to ask next.” and turned the laptop to face them both. She switched to using her actual voice. “Watch closely, Amanda. Jasminka, look away.” She handed a pair of earmuffs to Jasminka, knowing she was quite unsettled by any content as graphic as this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda rubbed her eyes and face clear, unsure if she was mentally prepared, but without much else to say. “Well, if you say so. Hit it.” Constanze obliged, and while Jasminka averted her senses, Amanda carefully watched the video run its course. As it progressed, the less hardened part of her </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> wished she could go back and unwatch that particular piece of media. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’d been in fights: she’d put a few undead back to rest, fought a magitronically possessed knight, and even calmed a raging ice-elemental. What she saw happened at Ludinghal though was far beyond any danger she’d faced or even heard of prior. “Constanze… this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>fake,</span>
  </em>
  <span> right?” With a hand held on her own forehead, Amanda’s mind tried to rationalize any other explanation to what the video gave as evidence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jasminka took off her muffs when it was clear the video was done; she heard Amanda’s questions, but said nothing. Her silence only made Amanda more nervous. Constanze eventually nodded and spoke. “Yes. It’s real. I need you to go back, minute mark: three twenty two.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda looked to Jasminka for support, but found nothing but a down cast stare. She acquiesced and went back in the video to the allotted time: The knight who’d picked the camera up was in  frame, and so was part of Nikolai’s. His vampiric features were clear, and the heraldry of the Bathory house served as a crucial clue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That man. I want to find him. I want to know why.” Constanze’s hands tightened around her knees. “I want him dead.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jasminka and Amanda both shot their heads up and looked to Constanze with bewilderment. “Hell no, you can’t be serious Conz!” Amanda retorted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jasminka pleaded as well. “Constanze… you can’t think of fighting anything like that. Y-You saw what they did! They’re monsters… and we’re just…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you dare.” Constanze intoned bitterly, before resorting to the text to speech again, having snatched her laptop back. “We’re about to be full blooded witches, and you two can’t see that it’s people like </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span> who need to stop this? They’ve taken everything I could have had and burned it.” The monotone of the device ran counter to Constanze’s tearful glare, and the thunderous speed with which she typed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So why are you try’na throw your life away Conz!? You have a blurry image of some weird guy’s face, and you just saw he and whatever the hell was with him just levelled a whole fuckin’ town without breaking a sweat. And you think you can just…!?” Amanda lost her words and fell back onto the bed, holding her head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jasminka stood up and went to console Constanze, putting her arms upon her friends’ shoulders. “Constanze, please: I could hardly stand to think of going separate ways with graduation so close; and that was when things seemed bright.” Jasminka kneeled in front of Constanze, still holding on tight. “The thought of losing you… to… it’s unbearable!” Jasminka shook her head thoroughly, denying the reality she found herself in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze set aside the Laptop and rested her forehead against Jasminka’s own. Her eyes were shut tight, her whole head throbbing as she forced out any thoughts of crying again; she was done weeping. When she spoke it was with passion. “Both of you…. You don’t understand what I’ve been denied! I’ve got nowhere left to go. No home, no family….” She pushed off of Jasminka and rose, with her friend scooting to the side and looking up as Constanze went. “But I have you. Amanda, Jasminka.” Her lips pursed, she felt no other way to phrase this: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you both love and care for me, then please, let me do this… help even! I called you,” Constanze pointed to Amanda who had now risen to her feet as well. “Because I trust you, your ability…. We can do this, we have to…. No, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> have to try.” She thumbed back to herself, her expression implacable, her determination unmeasurable. She wasn’t even sure why she </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do this, why she felt such a deep need to avenge a family, that while showing signs of growth for the better, undeniably abused her. What did vengeance even mean in this context? There wasn’t anything to be known of the answers to that question; not now; not yet. Wisdom could only be won through struggle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda got down to one knee, and addressed Constanze at eye level. “Conz, you realize just how… stupid this is. Going after them with just us, right? I get you want some vengeance, I don’t blame you… but we’re just three witches, and only </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> of us has actually fought something out here in the real world. All that nonsense with the hologarium chamber, it may as well have been warm-ups. I mean, hell, Jasminka….” Amanda looked to the aforementioned witch, withholding comments that may come off as insults. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jasminka sighed, but smiled lowly. “I understand. You know I’ve never taken to fighting well…. If I must, I shall, but I would just endanger you both. I am not a brave witch, and I accept that.” She looked up, her concern becoming more apparent. “But Amanda is right, this is crazy!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze spoke, “I know. I’m not… totally suicidal.” That was hardly comforting. “But I have to start somewhere, and that is here, with you two. So please, at least let me go if you wont come with me.” Constanze tugged on Amanda’s vest as she went in for a surprising hug. “I never stopped you when you needed to do something…. So please. Just return the favor.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda briefly froze, but eventually eased into the hug. She was left there with Jasminka soon joining in the huddle, thinking. She wasn’t even too concerned for the danger, let alone her own life, but for everyone else that could get involved. Hannah, Barbara, even Akko, Diana, Sucy, Lotte… everyone! Worse, when Constanze spoke of trusting Amanda’s ability, she couldn’t even muster that same trust in herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Leave this to the professionals.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ibrahim’s offhand comment echoed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was just a merc, a spunky witch with a wand and too much time on her hands, and likely a mediocre one at that. She wasn’t disciplined, trained, or all that bright; she just had too damn big a heart and ego to keep her out of trouble. It was that part of her that she knew would have her pursuing Constanze’s quest eventually; even if she denied it all the way to the grave, Amanda knew her guilt would be too immense. “I… I won’t stop you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jasminka was silent for a short while more, but eventually spoke up in Russian. She repeated the words, but in English then. “Love that restricts is but a prison….” She sniffled. “I won’t either.” Her nascent co-dependency and extreme attachment to others screamed against this decision, but Jasminka had to trust Constanze would find her own way, as all must.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze nodded into Amanda’s chest, and pulled away, still looking for more from Amanda especially. “Will you come with me?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda gave up any attempts to deny it further; Sucy was right, she’d never change. “I’ll fight with ya. But I’m not running blind here. We’re gonna do this right. We’re gonna need to do some research if we’re hunting these sons’a bitches. And I mean real thorough like.” Amanda extended a hand, a gesture of camaraderie, to Constanze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze looked at the hand with unbelieving eyes. She was mentally prepared to go it alone, and even expected as much; maybe she didn’t know Amanda as well as she thought. There was nothing left to do but reach out and shake it. “That’s why you’ve got me.” Constanze reassured; she’d be the brain to Amanda’s brawn. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jasminka looked to them both with what seemed and felt like a maternal sort of pride, despite them being all roughly the same age. “Promise me now though, that you’ll be safe…. Ohhh, there’s nothing </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe</span>
  </em>
  <span> about this. Just, don’t be reckless!” Her voice was much like that of the group’s mom too; somewhat naggy, but derived only from a place of love. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With their hand’s still locked together, Constanze and Amanda looked to Jasminka and nodded in unplanned unison. Amanda then spoke. “We’ve got a long road ahead of us before we gotta worry about that. And Conz,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze turned back to Amanda, expectantly. “What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know you want nothin’ more than to blast some ghouls to dust, but right now, you’ve missed some pretty wild shit, understand?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze remarked, “I saw injured people: Strangers, and you, Amanda; the night before it happened….” She had to at least concede, the wyrd sisters needed to be dealt with first. If the academy wasn’t safe, how could they even begin to think to pursue vampires? They would of course, soon learn of the tangled webs that bound all these events and beings together. “Tell me everything.” There was quite a bit of catching up to do, but at least they had all day to do it.</span><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/>
<hr/>
<hr/><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Dying Light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey everyone! Hope this chapter finds you eager to read, because it's a good bit longer than the previous chapters! This is the proverbial end of "act one," so to speak, and it also features my first true fight/battle scene. Do tell me how I did and how I can improve, as always; I'm never not wanting for precious feed back! Sorry I couldn't get this to you earlier; work had me down a bit! Also, PLEASE stick around to the end of the chapter to read the end of chapter notes. They are VERY important to understanding what chapter 6 will be, as I don't want to front load chapter six with notes as to enhance the reading experience for said chapter. </p><p>Without further adieu then, I give you chapter five!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It was five hours before the sun would rise on the second day, when all the findings and fruits of the Antiquarian’s belaboured research would be laid bare. It was also the first time within those two days that Diana left the library to do anything not related to research; she found herself at the beginning of the spiral stairway toward Professor Nord’s quarters, in the highest spire of the academy’s main building. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was beyond disheveled: Bags had built under her eyes more and more over the years, and this was the worst they’d ever been. Her hair was uncouth, and unwashed, and she’d been subsisting on the most basic of meals; her stomach was constantly grumbling in retort. Though she’d deny it fervently, her one-track mind had her sometimes forgetting to tend to her own well being when such important tasks were at hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One thing Diana couldn’t deny any further though was her desire to see Chariot. Diana trusted her own mind more than any, but she was hardly foolish in her pride, and wanted a reliable second opinion on the conclusions she’d reached. Just an hour ago, she was the only researcher in the library or the Sanctum archives; everyone else had resigned to rest, wanting to be of sound and present mind when the time for meeting came. The Antiquarians, Diana and Sucy included, came to some intriguing and supposedly solid conclusions on the origin of the spell, but for one reason or another, Diana had herself doubting… something. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What it was could not be pinpointed alone, but Diana </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> somehow that they had made just one error in their logic, and that error could cost lives; she had to know what that error was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana ascended the spiral staircase with careful steps, wary of her own bodies’ weakness in this exhausted state, and arrived at the door with a drawn out yawn. Following that, she slapped her cheeks softly twice, and fumbled for her wand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Aqua-Nuvala.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She hushedly incanted, and brought vapor in the air to coalescence into a cohesive puddle of water, which was gently caressed in her free hand. Splashing it in her eyes, Diana called on yet another simple spell to bring about a mirror from thin air, and tried to make herself just barely presentable enough for an impromptu one am meeting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She straightened out her hair with a grunt and flick of the wand, upturned her nose, and regarded each inch of her frame. A touch up here, an unseen blemish removed there, and she felt vaguely acceptable looking. Diana cleared her throat, and ran intoned to herself what she planned to say, trying to find the perfect pitch and tone for the conversation. “Professor Nord, I’m quite sorry to disturb you at such a late hour, but I’ve found some…. No, no…. I’m quite sorry to disturb you at this late hour, but I’m concerned that…. Bah….” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Over and over again, Diana rehearsed her delivery and script with an actor’s decorum; this was the Diana no one but Akko was allowed to see, unprepared, and unrehearsed. Chariot </span>
  <em>
    <span>perhaps</span>
  </em>
  <span> could qualify for being trusted enough to see Diana without a “mask,” but it was only two years ago that Diana simply refused to speak to her former idol, save for clerical and classroom purposes at least. The only reason she was even so interested in meeting Chariot, despite the professor having inexplicably had almost no involvement in the investigation, was that there was no one left to turn to at this frightful hour.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The wound made by Chariot’s past deception, done accidentally or not, and the subsequent struggle Diana and Akko faced with magic had healed, yes, but Diana was perhaps the most defensive and withdrawn of the New Nine: Complete and absolute trust from the most noble of Luna Nova’s soon-to-be alumni was a treasure even the stars coveted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Naturally then, Diana would find herself interrupted by the sight of Chariot peeking from the window of her door with tired and curious eyes; Diana hadn’t been careful enough to mind her volume, and awoke the professor. She uncharacteristically yelped, “Eek!” before feigning a severe coughing fit. “AHEM! Ahh…. My sincerest apologies, Professor Nord,” they were on speaking terms, but Diana still hadn’t gotten around to first name pleasantries yet, “I apologize for disturbing you at this time, but it’s of the utmost importance that I speak with you. It concerns the runes those villainous witches have planted…. I am aware you are somewhat divorced from this issue for reasons I am not privy to, but I must briefly yield my respect for said privacy, if you would allow me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana truly wasn’t sure why Chariot had been absent from all of the proceedings; in fact, she was absent from most functions save her teachings and general student aide for a month or two now. Diana’s mind, forever in a state of overclocking, ran through the possibilities in the micro-seconds between her speaking and Chariot reacting:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Depression? </span>
  <em>
    <span>No, general attitude when seen is too normal and near her baseline.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lack of motivation?</span>
  <em>
    <span> No, Chariot continues to show extended and invested interest in upcoming student’s as she did with Akko, and consistently gives more time than required toward extra training and remedial lessons. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sickness? </span>
  <em>
    <span>No, unless she’s concealing it with magic, and I’d sense that. Most would. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Diana was always very wound up, like a grand clock with a thousand constantly churning gears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chariot stared at Diana for a solid ten seconds, as if having to internally repeat what Diana yelled just loudly enough to be clearly heard through the door; when her foggy mind eventually came to, she unlocked the door and ushered Diana in. “I must admit,” Chariot sighed, “I knew I could not avoid this forever.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana almost felt insulted that the fate of the academy, Chariot and Diana’s second home as it were, was somehow below or beyond Chariot’s concern. Diana wanted to smack her, right then and there, but such boorish and uncough thoughts belonged in the minds of others, not Diana’s; and so like much of her thoughts, it was buried, deep in the thrice barred and twice dead-bolted depths of her psyche, along with the rest of her “incorrect” ways of thinking and being.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Professor.” Diana cleared her throat with a gentle fist, and strode inside with a most stately posture. Chariot meanwhile was hunched over like death was near, and yawned upon drawing her wand; the Wagandea tree had taken almost all of Chariot’s magical ability, but slowly, it would return. A simple spell to most became a slight ordeal for Chariot to cast, forcing her to breathe in deeply and then utter the word, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Levunda</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” in order to cast the spell. It was such a beginner level spell that most didn’t even require using the incants, let alone mentally preparing themselves, but such was Chariot’s condition. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The spell brought a tea kettle to levitate slowly over to a burner, which took to light of its own accord, and began boiling a sweet brew for the two. While patiently watching, Diana pulled up two chairs beside the kettle, and with an open handed gesture, bade Chariot to sit. “I apologize if you are not prepared to have such a conversation, but as it stands, no one appears to be prepared for what awaits us.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chariot found her bearing in good time, and sat down, “Ms. Cavendish,” She mustered a fully aware and cognizant voice. “I’m prepared. Prepared enough at least. And, allow me to at least apologize.” Chariot dropped her formal tone as quickly as it came, speaking truthfully. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana raised a single eyebrow, but her expression went unchanged; it was cold and expectant. Her nod permitted Chariot to speak further. “I’ve been distant; in general, that is. I felt I needed to… make….” She did not seem nervous, rather, deflated. “Peace. Make peace with myself while I could.” Nothing Diana knew about in Chariot’s life would warrant such a statement, not out of the blue at least; Chariot knew all too well though what was coming.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana hardly expected such a grim and harrowing notion to serve as Chariot’s explanation. Nevertheless, Diana had to keep up the guise of perfect professionalism. “Do as you must, Professor, but the time has come to make peace with the academy.” She had begun that statement trying to remain unemotional, and was successful in tone, but it’s content was clearly a jab at Chariot’s supposed lapses in responsibility. Diana cursed at herself internally for that slip. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To her surprise though, Chariot simply nodded, and only then did Diana note that Chariot’s eyes never rose to meet her own. “Yes that too. I’ve made sure to commit it’s wonder, it’s beauty even, to memory. I’m just hoping I can hold onto it.” Was she always aware of just how bad things seemed?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“T-Then let us not waste time on pleasantries. Onto business?” Diana wanted to probe further, but her own habits prohibited such tangential investigation. Chariot quietly hummed in the affirmative, and her seeming disinterest only dug the proverbial nails under Diana’s skin more. “I’ve come here to inquire on the nature of my findings:” Diana held her wand up at eye level and blew on it gently like a dandelion in the spring wind, summoning a gentle mist that formed an image. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The image displayed the runes discovered outside the perimeter of the academy, in all their confoundingly complex and messy glory. Even now, Diana could hardly make sense of the scribbled thing, and Chariot fared no better on first inspection. It was a circular symbol, and within, gods knew how many in total were layered over one another, all in random locations and turned in unconventional ways, such that they could only be distinguished with keen eyes from a certain angle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Despite its puzzling nature, we have been able to at least discern its origin: Greece; more specifically, almost all of the symbols that we could single out bear either direct resemblance, or closely match ones used in ancient Grecian magicks. See here,” Diana gestured to one corner of the circle in particular, and Chariot obliged the request by leaning forward just slightly. “These are most certainly wings, and if you follow the lines, it is clearly a depiction of Aquila. And there, seemingly in Aquila’s clutches, a face which matches the descriptions we have of the mythical titan, Cronus.” Diana went on to point out a few more details before acquiescing, and laying back into her chair with steepled hands. “The evidence is undeniable.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chariot had to agree, “Studious as ever, Ms. Cavendish…. But it seemed like you had… doubts? Everything you said is most certainly correct by my evaluation at least. Why the concern?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana breathed through her nose and kept a stiff upper lip as she examined the rune one final time from a leisurely distance. “I did. And I still do. Not with what I’ve identified directly, but with what we’ve presumed: Its effects; its purpose.” Diana shook her head and let her tired eyes close. “But I’m afraid I’ve overlooked something. And I don’t know what that is…. We presume it’s part of a spell meant to summon great and terrible beasts of Grecian myth to the Academy. How they intend to control them, or otherwise convince them to attack us is beyond our knowledge right now, but we can only assume that is their plan.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chariot watched her barely awake familiar, Alcor, in a clear attempt to continue to avoid looking at Diana directly, and spoke. “Going off of your gut feeling then…?” Diana cocked her head queerly at that. Alcor seemed to chitter and grumble something quietly. Chariot’s lips creased into the faintest of smiles. “It’s about time you started trusting it.” The kettle began to hiss gently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-What? I can’t….” Diana shook her head. “I came here to ask </span>
  <em>
    <span>you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Professor Nord; If I simply needed to ‘listen to my gut,’ I could have easily gone off to bed by now.” The hissing got a little louder. “And furthermore, I know I come at a late hour, but you could at least try and look like you’re putting thought into this.” Diana could hear her carefully crafted facade crack like glass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chariot, still focused on other things, seemed to ignore most of what Diana said. “You’re on the right track; I’m sure of it. But you’re not looking at the full picture.” The continued disregard had Diana physically biting her tongue. Alcor squawked once and began cleaning their wings. The hissing was only getting louder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Professor Nord,” Diana’s voice faltered, “I ask we focus on what’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>important</span>
  </em>
  <span>, yes? And, please, do not speak cryptically, this matter is far too—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As if continuing her prior sentiment, Chariot interrupted with: “You always act like you take it all in, examine it from every angle, but you… forget at times to put all the individual pieces together.” Chariot felt a burning in her gut, borne of guilt and of magical exertion. She had to keep Diana’s attention away from what she was focused on, so Chariot continued to smile, knowing Diana wasn’t quite free of her conventions yet, and she needed to be pressed further. Alcor bobbed its head once, having ceased its cleaning, and cawed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m. Asking. You.” The hissing was at a piercing volume now, and Diana was just about ready to scream. The stress of her general work life, family matters, schooling, social life outside of her love, and now the existential and life threatening crisis that loomed over the Academy was all packed into the singular pressure cooker that was Diana’s being; her head was primed to explode. “To be </span>
  <em>
    <span>clear</span>
  </em>
  <span> with me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Professor Nord.</span>
  </em>
  <span> This is not a game.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chariot sighed, closing her eyes; she knew what her next words had to be, and still, she was unprepared to face Diana’s frustrated wrath. In time, if Chariot had done all of this correctly, they’d arrive at the solution. “Queen to E8, and to answer your question, the sum of everything is always changing…. And, yes, what a pretty star you have.” Chariot mouthed a very quick and quiet, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Thank you, Alcor.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> which was replied to in kind by Alcor squawking as if speaking some strange bird-language, before picking up a chess piece and moving it on the board beside their roosting stand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was gibberish, from Diana’s perspective at least, and it served as the final straw that broke the back of her well-put-together facade. She burst into a furious rant, now standing, having sent her chair a few inches backwards from how forcefully she pushed off of it. “Honestly you are the most insipid professor at this academy! Time and time again I have to keep correcting you, hell, even other students, </span>
  <em>
    <span>underclassmen</span>
  </em>
  <span> no less, catch you in your errors. It’s pathetic; no, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>embarrassing</span>
  </em>
  <span> even! And now you’re sitting here, while everything falls apart around us, and you have the </span>
  <em>
    <span>audacity</span>
  </em>
  <span> to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>ignore</span>
  </em>
  <span> what I’m saying? Hello? Do you hear me?” Diana waved her hand at Chariot, who was only smiling wider now; she’d done it. Now she just needed the other needed party to arrive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I see. It’s funny to you. Hilarious! A joke! Comedic! Yes, let’s just have a laugh about the possibility of everyone, myself and you included, being at risk of getting eaten by god knows what monstrous thing these witches intend to send our way. You know, I think you’re not just a sad excuse for a professor, Chariot, you’re just a terrible mentor in general!” There were so many tears, but Diana didn’t even sound like she was crying. “Because nowadays, I’ve noticed you've been </span>
  <em>
    <span>helping </span>
  </em>
  <span>students, by offering them pithy riddles like you just offered me. Am I a joke to you too? Because I’m not about my precious time deciphering your… your... “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go on. Say it.” Chariot chuckled, and appeared wholly unphased, outwardly at least, and continued to avert her gaze. She was properly addressing Diana at least, but internally, despite her unique foresight on this conversation, the insults still stung.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>“Your </span><em><span>immature, sloppy,</span></em><span> and</span><em><span> simple-minded </span></em><span>puzzles!” Diana threw one arm backward with an open palm, inadvertently calling on magic to send the tea kettle flying into the air. It clattered and spilled it’s contents without any further ceremony, but served to briefly break up Diana’s tirade. “You </span><em><span>lying</span></em><span>, </span><em><span>careless</span></em><span>… </span><em><span>stage show…</span></em> <em><span>fraud….</span></em><span>” Her sobbing dominated nearly all of her vocalizations now, and Diana was forced to turn around, subject only to the whims of her hyperventilating lungs and stress addled mind. Diana couldn’t even tell if anything she was saying was sincere; her attacks were indiscriminate, and Chariot just so happened to be the one to set her off. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chariot, in the meantime, began to breathe heavy, relaxing her magical muscles now that her ruse had paid off. “You’ve always wanted to say those words; ever since you learned the truth about me, haven’t you?” Diana did not deign to answer, and in fact was afraid to. Chariot didn’t require an actual confirmation though; it was more rhetorical than anything else, and so Chariot continued. “I’m sorry for this, but, also, do mind our company.” She gestured weakly to the door as the sounds of footsteps approaching began just moments afterward.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana, despite seeming to be in hysterics, was quick to bounce back, “Eh?” and looked to the door with wide eyes. She frantically wiped her face in a vain attempt to put her “mask” back on, but Chariot quieted that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No time now. Just be yourself with </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>, like normal.” Who was Chariot referring to?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Chariot!!!” A few raps at the door followed Chariot’s warning. “I’ve finished my final project, </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span>…. I mean, sheesh! You couldn’t give me an easier assignment? And on such short nootiiiice….” It was Akko, and she seemed to be just as enthusiastic about being awake at this hour as everyone else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana looked between the door, and then Chariot; the door, Chariot, the door, Chariot. Her tears and anxiety had fled; she was a master of the quick recovery, but even so, this was a dizzying affair. Diana’s gaze now rested on Chariot, and her expression conveyed a message to her former idol, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“How did you know?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chariot only nodded, sat up, and went to the door, “Akko, you had a whole month to complete it you know.” Her tone was inviting, but still carried hints of natural grogginess, as did her stride. Chariot went to the window, waving at a pouty-faced and squinting Akko, who struggled to see who else was in the room. She looked back toward Diana once, hushedly remarking: “Trust me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko pressed her face up against the glass. “Chariooot! Who are you talking to? I heard some yelling…. Is now a bad time? If so I’m coming in anyway!! I worked too hard these past few days to risk going to bed and forgetting how I got it right!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm? Oh, Diana stopped by, but everything’s fine.” Chariot unlocked the door, but paused as she realized the tea kettle was still left dripping on the floor. “Just a bit of scholastic stress is all!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chariot gestured hastily to Diana, and luckily, the Cavendish inheritor understood, and used a time-reversal spell, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Skrill!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>which saw the kettle and it’s liquid content briefly go backward through the motions of it’s flight, and land right back on the burner where it last sat. Diana then quickly removed it and shakily poured three cups of tea. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Just act normal. Just act normal.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She mantra’d to herself internally. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko burst in then, pushing past Chariot with several books in hand, “Heavy…. Hnngh, make way!” and stumbled on toward the small tabletop Diana and Chariot had been using prior, with the illusory mist still hanging in the air. With a thud that shook the wooden foundation, the heavy stack of books was dropped with about as much grace as could be expected from Akko. “Phew…. Eh? What’s this?” Akko rubbed at her head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana turned around, blinking a few times as Chariot shuffled awkwardly next to Alcor…. Was there always a chess board set by her familiar? And why were the pieces set up in such a way that it appeared to be in use, or as if a game was put on pause? “A-Ah! Yes, ehem, Akko, myself and Chari—Professor Nord,” Diana sipped from her tea, as if it was somehow a straight shot of liquid composure, and gained greater control over her tone. “We were going over some…. Interesting findings made… when…” Diana, as a woman who valued trust above all else, was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>horrible</span>
  </em>
  <span> liar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko squinted at the strange arcane symbols, examining each of the intricate patterns within as close as she could without just putting her face in the smoky illusion. “They look… very familiar….” Akko gasped, putting her hands on her cheeks, and appearing shocked beyond belief. Diana felt her heart drop like a meteor into her gut. “Chariot! You gave Diana an assignment just like mine!? No wonder it was so hard! But I did it!” Akko ran toward Chariot, arms outstretched, and tried to embrace her, but in reality just tackled Chariot with a hug. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Grunting, and nearly being taken right off of her feet, Chariot laughed, with eyes drifting over to look at the still bewildered Diana as she spoke. “You’ve come a long way, Akko. I always knew you’d be able to reach Diana’s level someday. Though, Diana’s assignment was a bit more complex…. Actually, she came up here asking me to review her work, just to check for errors. Maybe you could help her?” Again, Chariot mouthed silently, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Trust me,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> but added on vocally. “You remember what I said, right, Diana?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko was ecstatic, and possessed a near literal twinkle in each of her eyes as she spun about to look at Diana. “Really? She wants </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> help!? On an assignment?! Oooooohh! There really is a first time for everything! Can I help? Can I? Can I? Can I </span>
  <em>
    <span>pleeease</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” She was over the moon and back again, and felt a whole swarm of butterflies fluttering in her chest; all of course while being so blissfully ignorant of what was actually going on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana couldn’t help but smile, albeit nervously. She remembered back and ran through her prior conversation with Chariot, while of course glossing over her outburst; that was a can of worms to be introspected on at a later date. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Queen to E8…. Think with your gut…. Sum of everything is… what? Always changing? A pretty star?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her eyes drifted to Chariot’s, but found the professor to be beyond the point of being able to offer any further help. Diana was left with just a lead, a riddle, and her very eager girlfriend; somehow, these three things needed to come together and reveal the way toward destroying these runes at best, or at the very least identifying them properly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dianaaaaa! Stop spacing! We got work to do, don't we!?” Akko was far too loud for how late it was.</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“R-Right, Akko… sorry, just, it’s been a long week.” It wasn’t the full truth, but it was close enough that Diana could manage that as an excuse. At this point, why was she even hiding it from Akko? Because of principle? So she could be kept safe? None of them were safe anyway, and in this moment, Diana could care less for principled secrecy. Because it would take too long to explain? </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Right…”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She thought to herself; that was the problem, but it wasn’t an excuse that would work forever. “So,” Diana put on her best serious tone that was possible, “If you have been given the same assignment, why don’t you tell me what we’re looking at here.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko flipped open one of her advanced astrology books. “Well! It’s a constellation arrangement… I think? It looks really similar to one at least! See here,” She pointed to a glyph in the book that also had many symbols somewhat sloppily layered over another, but the diagram, accompanied by a description on how to cast the required spells, shows the glyph actually becoming somewhat three dimensional. “When you cast the spell,</span>
  <em>
    <span> Astrolia Astrala</span>
  </em>
  <span>—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y-Yes, I am familiar with the spell.” Diana genuinely was, but never did it occur to her that this mysterious rune before her had direct connections to astrology based magicks; what threat does a star chart serve? Usually they are used to help predict the future.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm! So you get that right, and I know it sounds super simple, but UGH! It’s kinda hard to get it just right…. You have to do a thingy with your wand, like,” Akko gestured to the example in the book. “See, Scorpious, you have to like, make a motion with your wand that kinda matches the different constellations and cast the spell once for each constellation. I keep messing up the third or fourth time, so you gotta start over, and my wrist was really starting to—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get some ice for it later, the spell though, what’s it for? J-Just testing you, is all.” It had to just be for a start chart, right?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, all the books say star charts, and I think they called the rune-arrangement a </span>
  <em>
    <span>solar arrangement</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but I was doing some research online and apparently some old guy waaaaaay back before magic was really even very codified first used them for some really complex spells. They could do just about anything, er, anything that worked with geometry or something silly like that…. I kinda forget the rest, seemed boring, but when—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, it’s a—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dianaaa! You keep interrupting me!” Akko pouted, closing the book. “I know you’re really stressed from all those extra projects they piled on you, but come on, let’s relax a bit! I’ll take the wheel from here, you just sit back and watch your </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh so masterful</span>
  </em>
  <span> witch of a girlfriend handle it!” She thumbed to herself and puffed out her chest, ready to take on the world. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I’m not, I mean, I am, but, we can talk about that later. No, Akko, I just need you to listen here for a second.” Diana came close and placed her hands anxiously on Akko’s shoulders, having set aside the tea for now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eh? Something wrong?”  Akko blinked, clearly confused.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No—Yes—Maybe—Ugh….” Diana shook her head; she still couldn’t bring herself to any complete state of composure. It was like Chariot had afflicted her with social-vertigo; everything was off balance. Her mind’s gears continued to turn and sputter, thinking in unconventional ways, likely due to how unusual she was feeling. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“E8…. Sum…. Star…. E? Greece… Geometry….” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko continued to stare. “D-Diana… do we need to… talk? You seem really off.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That old man, the one you mentioned!” Diana blurted out, her train of thought beginning to chug along. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eh? What about him?” Chariot smiled in the distance. The pieces were falling into place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“His name!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bwah!? I don’t… Pie… Peas… Pyth—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pythagoras! Akko, you’re a genius!” Diana kissed Akko on the lips, which had her girlfriend flailing her arms briefly in surprise. Chariot chuckled. After she’d pulled away, Diana continued, giving Akko no time to actually rebuttal. “Come on! I know what we have to do!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We have to do something!? Elsewhere? But Chariot’s right—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You passed, Akko, don’t worry. A-Plus!” Chariot held her hands clasped at chest height. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you Charioooooot!” Akko yelled while being dragged away in a stumbling, messy, and disheveled excuse for a run, with her hands being held by the lead, Diana. Their chatter and the echoing of their footsteps eventually left the spiral staircase, and Chariot was left alone with Alcor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It…. isn’t wrong of me to be leading them around like this, is it?” Chariot went to her tea and eagerly sipped at it. Alcor Cawed thrice in reply. “Yes, I guess I don’t really have a choice. I’d tell them what I saw if I could but—” Another four caws, all at different volumes. “I… guess I </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> be a little less riddle-heavy with the students; Diana was right about that…. Assuming there will be an academy to teach at.” A few low chitters and squawks followed. “Oh hush, I know they’re a bit vague sometimes, but I feel it helps the student’s exercise their critical thinking; besides, I needed the practice if I wanted to set this up correctly. Nine Witches forfend, had anything gone wrong there.” Chariot inhaled the gentle smell of her tea, allowing it to soothe her own anxiety. “Well, I guess we don’t even know if any of that went right, do we?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alcor flew over and landed on Chariot’s shoulder, pressing their beak against her ear, and uttered quiet sounds. “I do think it went well, actually…. But I wish it could have been less… frustrating for Diana.” She took a seat in the moonlight, and looked up toward the celestial body upon which she’d made an imprint so very long ago. “She gives so much of herself to everything except herself. Does that make sense, Alcor?” Alcor bobbed their head up and down a few times. “Mmm. I just hope if this doesn’t work, that she finds it in herself to settle things with me. I can’t imagine leaving any of them, but Diana…. If I left without being able to make things right between us, I don’t know what I’d do.” Alcor chittered, almost sorrowfully. “A fair point; I shouldn’t be planning on doing anything, really. I don’t want to be disappointed if I end up just… sleeping eternity away.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alcor flew away then, squawking in a rambling sort of way, and picked up one of the chess pieces, moving it to another spot on the board. They then cawed. “Hmm?” Chariot turned to look at Alcor, “Oh… oh my, that really is checkmate isn’t it?” she shrugged, smiling, and looked back to the moon. “You always did keep me honest.” A final sip from her tea had Chariot sighing. “Take good care of them, if worse comes to worst.” Alcor whimpered, but bobbed their head up and down. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko huffed and puffed with every few meters crossed, she was already tired enough, and without knowledge of what was even going on, her body could hardly muster the adrenaline. “Diana! Do we really need to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>running!?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Shouldn’t we head back? Isn’t that curfew still—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Irrelevant! You might’ve just saved lives, that’s all I can say right now!” Diana meanwhile was on a high that would certainly leave her crashing like a wingless plane soon enough. For now though, she was raring to go. “Stay with me, Akko, we still have to be careful!”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ehhh!? You said the curfew was irrelevant!” Akko briefly picked up the pace, now running beside Diana.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well—Mostly!” They were growing closer to the edge of the woods, and for mercy, they were avoiding the sights of the patrolling Antiquarians and Professors; there was no time to explain, yet at least. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko groaned at the loose excuses offered by Diana. She swore and cursed in Japanese, “And you say I’m the hasty one….” and then spoke in a whisper, “Crazy nobles and their eccentric ways.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana responded in mostly clear Japanese, “I can understand you! Did you forget I’ve been studying?” which had Akko coughing and almost coming to a halt. Diana tripped as a result, and slid in the dew-ridden dirt, sighing. “Well, at least this one needed washing anyway.” She grumbled to herself in English. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko regained composure from her brief blundering, and bent over, holding her knees as she caught her breath. “You know… I’d really… like to know what’s going on…. You haven’t been yourself for a few days.” Akko ended up just resigning herself to sit on the wet grass, not caring for any dirt stains. “Like, I get you got a bunch of extra assignments, but… isn’t that stuff usually easy for you? And, why are they even giving you more? I mean, come on, if they needed to get just how amazing you were, they could’ve asked me! Or like, I dunno, used their eyes!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Akko, I’m sorry, I—” Diana began, but was interrupted by Akko running through her stream of consciousness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not your fault; if anything I should be sorry. I’ve been really bad at coordinating any alone time with you.” Akko pressed her two pointer fingers together, nervously, her mind having wandered. “I forget how stressed you get and how easily you forget to just breath, you know? And I promised myself I’d make sure you don’t get so overworked anymore ever since last time, so let me make it up and—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Akko I lied!” Diana just had to say it, right then and there, otherwise she’d never get a word in. Only the wind accompanied them afterward, blowing their similarly long strands of hair westward, and bringing a chill with it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko looked to Diana for a few moments more and then slowly turned her sight downward, and began idly running her fingers over the many blades of grass and along the stalks of weeds. “About what?” Akko knew Diana well; if she had to lie about something, then something was very wrong, but that didn’t soften the blow of being lied to by her lover. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course, there was only one way forward for Diana then: Spill her guts and fess up to it all. “The assignments, why I stayed out so late, the reason those strang—The Antiquarians, that’s who they are, why they’re here, the noises at night…. All of that.” She was hurried in her speech, as if speaking faster would get it over sooner, or as if she might lose her voice at any moment. That lingering feeling of social-vertigo still was stuck to her; did Chariot plan this too? Why even go to the length to do that? Why not just </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell</span>
  </em>
  <span> them if she knew? And what would it take for Diana to actually regain her composure!?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm…” Akko hummed and grunted mournfully. The two hardly ever fought, let alone went behind each other’s backs over anything, and this was Akko’s first </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> relationship; the way forward was as hazy as her vision. “But there’s a reason right?” Akko paused and looked up, smiling in such a way that obscured her actual emotions and thought process. “I’m not a good enough witch yet, am I?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, Akko. You're amazing, spectacular, daring… I could go on! You’re….” Diana sighed. “You’re just too good at heart for your own sake…. And we’ve talked about this before; you are </span>
  <em>
    <span>far</span>
  </em>
  <span> too adventurous at times.” She got onto her knees then and scooted over to sit opposite to Akko, letting her hands rest in her lap. “But it’s not because I don’t think you’re not good enough. R-Remember? We talked about that too—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko chuckled. “Just making sure, actually. I didn’t think you’d agree…. If you did though, I’d be </span>
  <em>
    <span>soooo</span>
  </em>
  <span> mad!!” Akko puffed her cheeks out and held Diana’s hands tightly. To her girlfriend’s surprise, she was taking this quite well. “But you gotta tell me now! I mean come on, sneaking behind my back, making up all those lies, getting into dangerous and scary fights,” Akko could only assume that was what was happening, “It sounds like what I did all the time! Before we became, well…” Akko grinned, and turned away, hiding a light flush of embarrassment. “Say it for me, I love when you do that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Diana felt a heavy weight lift from her, but then had that feeling replaced by an intense disappointment, like one felt when a friend makes a </span><em><span>very</span></em> <em><span>bad</span></em><span> pun. “No. Absolutely not. I will never speak that phrase out in public like this—” She’d nearly forgotten they were just out at nearly two am on the campus grounds, and otherwise in the midst of various crises. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Public? Pffff…” Akko covered her mouth. “Diana’s scared all the plants are gonna hear her hmm?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am—You stop this. I was being serious when I said there were lives at stake you know!” Maybe now wasn’t the best time to have a fluffy and wholesome moment during the witching hours. Akko just had a way of making all of Diana’s worries disappear it seemed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was of little concern to Akko though, at least for now. “Oh come on… Saaaaay iiiiittt!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I swear you’re still like you were as a freshman.” Akko always did take to danger with a daring do attitude, similarly to Amanda, but surprisingly with much more restraint and without the actual desire to be in danger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You mean the one you fell so hopelessly, madly, terribly in—” Akko threw her arm against her forehead and leaned back dramatically while speaking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, yes! Is this really the time? What are you hoping to gain from this?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Say it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ugh…. Before we became…” Diana had to brace her very soul, “...wives in wanderlust….” It was the name Akko gave them ever since Diana and her formally agreed to go on all adventures together. And it was legally required by Akko that whenever one of them uttered the silly title, that both threw up jazz hands; Akko’s of course were very energetic, while Diana barely even lifted her limp arms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana continued, “Are you happy now? It’s a terrible name you know, for both a couple our age and for what you’re trying to describe with the name. While it has alliteration, it’s clumsily designed and doesn’t—” A pair of lips, briefly pressed against her own, silenced Diana’s ramble. She’d almost forgotten every single stressor or threat ever existed in those prior moments. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know. But that’s your punishment for keeping a good adventure from me!” Akko began to rise, bringing Diana with her. “It’s not like we </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally</span>
  </em>
  <span> saved the world or anything… or time traveled across dimensions to stop an endlessly repeating day… or that time Jasminka accidentally gave all the food sapience; that was just creep—” With a hand on her chin, Akko went on, recounting their past excursions, but Diana was quick to tug at Akko’s collar and shake her briefly, bringing her back down to reality. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What I mean is, Akko, that this is… beyond what we’ve faced before. Even the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Noir-Rod</span>
  </em>
  <span>, yes it… definitely did threaten nuclear conflict world wide… which… for some reason is only just dawning on me, but,” She cleared her throat, and finally began to feel herself once more; perhaps getting all that baggage of having to lie to Akko off and away did her more favors than she’d have thought. Of course, the issue of Chariot and what Diana said to her still remained. Diana knew she didn’t mean almost any of it; not anymore at least. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana, after walking through those fleeting realizations, continued her prior statement more coherently, and in her normal voice. “We’re facing witches who </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> mean well, by any standard. They are irrevocably wicked. They attacked Chariot, Babcock, even students.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko was starting to get a hold of the gravity of the situation now, but still so many questions remained. “Chariot? Wait, is that why Rebecca had a broken leg? The collapsed section of roof? All that stuff about something in the woods near campus? That’s what this is about?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana sighed, knowing Akko still lacked the fullest of contexts, but it was good enough for a start at least. “Yes. Three powerful witches. That rune you saw, it wasn’t part of any assignment for classes; they’re using that for… well I’m not so sure, but it’s a threat. That much is certain.” She nodded and brought her face a few inches from Akko’s. “We had to keep it secret to prevent panic from spreading…. I don’t even know if that was the proper course, but it’s where we’ve found ourselves; We can only look forward now.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko hugged Diana earnestly, and put her head over Diana’s left shoulder. “And we’ll push through it and come out swinging just like every other catastrophe that came our way, right?” Akko really didn’t even seem very interested in knowing the gritty details. She was a woman of simple desires and simple principles: Protect her friends, live and laugh, and never stop believing. Whatever these witches were up to, Akko would help stop it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This is what Diana feared prior to this, but now, she couldn’t help but ride that infectious high of bravery that Akko gave off when she really got determined to do something. She had to trust her gut now, just as Akko always did, and her gut said to lead Akko to one of the runes. She buried her head briefly against Akko’s neck and then pulled away amicably from the embrace. “Right.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A ten second long silent stare followed between the two lovers. They shared nods, held each other, hand in hand, and then ran off like lightning toward the forest. Diana was the only one who knew the way, but Akko was right beside her, and even leading at times; their spirits were intertwined and so were their paths, perhaps literally. Only one thing left to do: Break the seals, and save the academy!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Were it so easy.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now, sunrise loomed just below the horizon. The time was just about six thirty, and despite getting twelve full hours of rest, Amanda felt like a mule had kicked her awake. All that stress she’d been accumulating over these past few days decided to make itself even more of a delight by manifesting as a headache. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Wonderful.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She thought; this would </span>
  <em>
    <span>certainly</span>
  </em>
  <span> help her be productive at the upcoming meeting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hell, what was even the point of it again?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Amanda ran it by herself in a hushed whisper: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Antiquarians… runes, evacuation, safety or something, plan to stop this weird shit probably, blah blah, yeah, sounds right.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Well, she was technically correct, if lacking for professional drive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda had been making poor time in arriving at the library on time, shuffling through the academys’ halls in a half awake stupor. Normally, Amanda lived for danger and intrigue, but in the wake of the trauma brought upon Constanze, and the bubbling of relationship troubles between the polycule and briefly with Sucy, things had changed. Amanda desired nothing more than to give those weird witches a face full of fist and be done with it all; her friends always came before her thrills.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Speaking of restraint, Amanda was suddenly forced to make herself more awake, not out of surprise or excitement, but because as she rounded a corner, it became clear that the small gaggle of professors ahead of her was led by Finnelan. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Figures.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Despite her slow pace, due to the quiet conversation the professors seemed to be having, Amanda would pass by them eventually. Unless she wanted to awkwardly stand in the center of the hallway and await for them to leave, there was nothing to be done but push past them and hope she went unnoticed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Wait, why the hell do I care? I’m not a fucking kid anymore. I’m not even a student!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Amanda internally rationalized, but as her more confident stride started up, she remembered back to what Nelson had urged her upon her arrival back at Luna Nova; partially because Nelson was in the crowd, had spotted Amanda, and was giving her the “you’re-going-to-do-that annoying-thing-I-asked-you-to-do” look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda replied with a raised eyebrow, and a frustrated shrug, alongside a “no-I-am-absolutely-not-going-to-do-that-annoying-thing” look, with a hint of a “not-right-now” tossed in by her flippantly gesturing to the nearby clock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nelson made the rules of engagement very clear though, with a few hand signals and tensing expressions, switching between frustration and parental concern: “yes-you-absolutely-are-and-yes-now-is-the-time-so-quit-dancing-around-it-and-sober-up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda replied with a hand gesture of her own, though it wasn’t as informative.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nelson rolled her eyes and hunched over as the energy to deal with her spunky, twenty-something friend, left her. Finnelan took note, and turned just enough to spot Amanda giving a most pleasant gesture indeed, which Amanda immediately hid upon realizing she was spotted by the very person she sought to avoid. Finnelan could only groan and shake her head. “Professors; excuse me.” She imparted quietly to the group, who then went off to go and join the meeting proper. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda bit her lower lips and swore incessantly within her own head; she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> about to get into another argument with Finnelan of all people with a headache that was this bad. In fact, she could feel it getting worse with every step Finnelan made. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ms. O’Neill. I would hope you’re not just making rude gestures because you find it </span>
  <em>
    <span>funny</span>
  </em>
  <span>. If you have something to say, then say it.” Finnelan’s nose was upturned, her arms were folded behind her back, and her jaw rolled slowly as disdain took hold of her face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda deflated and brought a hand to palm her own face, peaking one eye out from between her fingers. “Listen Finnelan, we don’t got fucking time to mess around. I really just don’t care right now, about whatever it is you're gonna ride me for now.” She dropped the hand and briefly threw her arms up and out such that they gently slapped against her side upon going slack. “I’m done. I’m just done. We’ve got more important shit to go handle.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finnelan didn’t change her expression, or if she did, Amanda couldn’t note any difference, but the professor did walk past Amanda, and began circling her slowly. “...That was… surprisingly poignant of you, though your vocabulary is as foul as ever.” Was her tone actually appreciative? Amanda didn’t know if Finnelan was capable of such an emotion; all she knew was discipline. As Finnelan rounded behind Amanda, who watched her circling with a pensive stare, waiting for an eruption, the professor continued. “You’re quite correct actually, and while you hardly deserve respect, given how unwilling you are to give it out in turn… apologies are in order.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This better not be you playin’ games teach.” Amanda warned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Games? Do you actually think I’d have time for such petty conniving? What do I gain from stringing you along?” Finnelan paused in her stride, just barely turning to face Amanda, appearing somewhat insulted. “I could’ve just opened this by berating you as I always have, but I think this business of ours should come to a close.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“At least speak plainly.” Amanda crossed her arms and spun about on one heel, which she then began to tap impatiently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bury the hatchet, as it were. We agree to disagree and leave each other be. No more pointless confrontations, no more childish pranks should you return to the academy, and no more inane brow-beating.” Finnelan had almost never been one to seek a negotiable end to any sort of debate; she won any engagement by force of will and the clarity of her ideals, all too similar to how her most hated student in years goes about business, but with wholly differing philosophies. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, you’re serious?” Amanda actually smiled, letting out a brief gasp that sounded more like a laugh. “Here I thought this was gonna be hard, but, hey, I ain’t about to—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When did I say it would be easy, Amanda?” First name usage? That’s new. Finnelan held up a fist, and began counting with each raised finger. “Firstly, I demand a formal apology for all of your behaviors leading up to now, and I want you to sign,” her free hand called upon her wand and drew a sort of scroll mid air, causing it to be made manifest from arcane twinkles, “here, on this contract, that you will cease such behaviors as outlined while on academy grounds.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh you’ve gotta be fuckin’ me; you made a </span>
  <em>
    <span>contract?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Amanda let her arms drop in front of her like her spine went limp. “And we’re only on your </span>
  <em>
    <span>first</span>
  </em>
  <span> demand!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finnelan blew air sharply from her nose. “Hmmph. Unsurprisingly, you have no appreciation for formal agreements. My methods stand, however. You’ll find though that the contents are simple enough for even </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> to understand. They’re also quite air-tight. Don’t even think of weaziling your way through loopholes by the way; there aren’t any.” She swished her wand-less hand about in a circle, sending the contract to zip around amanda before unfurling before her face. “Read it, at the least.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine, fine. But if this thing’s full of BS terms—” Amanda began to raise pointed fingers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>strict</span>
  </em>
  <span>, not unreasonable. Perhaps had we gotten off on a better foot you’d know that.” Finnelan didn’t dare show any regret in her face, nor did she really feel any in her gut; but she was also a professor that never wanted student’s to leave her class without having A, learned something, or B, not wanting to come back. Amanda checked off both those boxes almost every day, and it always was a bit depressing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda didn’t have a witty response to the statement; it didn’t hit hard, but it also hit differently than the rest of Finnelan’s usual sentiments. Amanda wasn’t stupid, but she was just so very not used to hearing Finnelan act in such an “agreeable” way, and it had her briefly stunned. She briefly fancied saying a joke about Finnelan being replaced by a body double, but decided against ruining her best chance at putting this petty fued to bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All that was left to do then was read the contract, so Amanda snatched it out of the air and sighed. “Alright, lets see….” She began reading it aloud:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I, Amanda O’Neill, do solemnly swear by signing this contract, to abide by the multitude of statutes and rules laid out before me in said contract. They are as follows: One. I, Amanda O’Neill, will not engage in any of the following activities, with, or without the accompaniment of other students of the academy: skullduggery, undo rambunctious behavior, rioting</span>
  </em>
  <span>—” Amanda blinked. “Seriously? Rioting?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m</span>
  <em>
    <span> very</span>
  </em>
  <span> thorough; I formerly was pursuing a position as an arcane arbitrator, you know.” Finnelan did not smile, but a certain air of pride accompanied her voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Riiight… anyways.” Amanda cleared her throat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Rioting, thieving, illicit broom racing, gambling, and unpermitted exploration of ruins near, beneath, or by some strange occurance, above the academy, within an area encompassing the whole of the island. These activities may only be taken in the event of an emergency and or with the explicit written permission of the acting headmistress, or another professor who must then report to the acting headmistress.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Amanda squinted at that last bit. “Why not just say Holbrooke’s name? This makes it seem like she’s leavin’.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She is.” Finnelan shook her head, with a downcast visage. “The position has become too much for a woman of her age. Though wise, wiser than I for certain, she wishes to seek her own rest before it becomes too hard for her to move, let alone think coherently. She will be dearly missed.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda turned her head sideways and ran a hand through her hair, blowing air. “Well, shit, more depressing news by the day…. So she’s just gonna….?” Amanda ran a finger across her neck. “You know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not in such a barbaric manner! Nine forfend!” Finnelan was genuinely appalled by such an insinuation, even if Amanda didn’t mean to imply such a grizzly method. “I spoke with her personally on the matter. I will be made the acting headmistress, and within two years time, she will return and judge whether or not I’ve made good on my promises.” Finnelan moved her hands back behind her and lifted briefly up off of her toes, implying this would be a foregone conclusion. “Then, should all be well, I will become the official headmistress of Luna Nova, and Holebrooke, Nine bless her… shall make for Arcturus.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda’s eyes widened, her words briefly faltering. “A-Arcturus? That creepy ass forest? What the hell Finnelan, why would anyone wanna, well, die in a place like that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finnelan sighed, “It is… tradition. Not a well known one, and, frankly, one I find all too harrowing. When my time comes, should I take on the mantle of responsibility Holbrooke bore, I do not know if I will be able to go through with it.” She shook her head. “But it is her choice, and I respect it. She will join the forest and… hopefully… her pure and good soul will go toward curing the evils rooted deep there.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda and Finnelan shared a good minute of awkward silence. Amanda may not have known Holbrooke very well, but she was always strangely very permitting of the New Nine’s shenanigans; they all should have been expelled forty times over, but Holbrooke always had their back. She was like a grandmother to them all. Finnelan of course was on closer, more personal terms, given their years spent together working alongside one another, and even she didn’t know why Holbrooke took to the New Nine so well, even before they became known as such. Both looked inwardly for answers, but both returned to the conversation with equally empty hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, that’s all the contract is right?” Amanda clarified, reading it over once more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye. And your apology. I still expect one.” Finnelan offered a conjured feather pen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda eyed the pen suspiciously at first, but wanted nothing more than to get this over with. She took it gingerly, and signed away at the floating contract. “Alright…. Well, I mean, I’m genuinely sorry for causing so much shit for you guys to clean up. I can’t really apologize on behalf of what the others did, but, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Amanda gestured with a finger to both of them in a back and forth manner, “always were way less… agreeable.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finnelan didn’t waver though; her disdain remained. “And about the lie?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t launch that rocket. I always knew you didn’t, but you just had to put yourself on the chopping block, didn’t you?” Finnelan raised a brow, inquisitively. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda froze, and felt all of the blood disappear from her face. She managed a poor laugh. “Haha…. Yeah, wooh, got me there teach, I mean, I’m sorry about that one the most obviou—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Amanda.” Finnelan wrinkled her nose, her expression tensing, but exhaled calmly. “I wanted nothing more from you than for you to realize your potential. I knew you didn’t try as an act. For what purpose, I can’t say. That is your business, but it is also inextricably linked to </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> business; teaching. I don’t let student’s self-sabotage.” She looked away, disappointed in herself. “You were the only one so defiant as to actually succeed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well…. Shit, now I just feel like I kicked a puppy.” Amanda held her gut uneasily, with gently clenched teeth, and a reclusive posture. Something didn’t add up right though, and slowly, Amanda curled her lips inward before wagging a finger at Finnelan. “No wait a second, all you fuckin’ did was give me chores to do and berate me in front of everyone and their mother. How the hell you gonna call that right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not. I apologize.” Finnelan looked off to the side slightly. “I didn’t adapt my teaching to the student. I’ve always made students adapt to the teaching. Clearly, it doesn’t always work.” Her eyes returned to Amanda, looking austere, but also introspective and thoughtful. You'd be surprised how much I’ve actually changed in the classroom…. Though you still give me ear piercing headaches.” She returned with her signature stare of disdain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Guess I did get carried away sometimes, I’ll admit.” Amanda kicked the rug gently with her boot and rolled her neck. “But come on, was I really that bad?” Only after saying it did Amanda remember, in full, </span>
  <em>
    <span>just how bad</span>
  </em>
  <span> she really was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“To put it bluntly, I was prepared to report you to the authorities on some occasions. When you became of age, I could have had you incarcerated... but I decided against it.” Finnelan pinched the bridge of her nose, her forehead tensing with wrinkles. “I cannot willingly send a witch to rot in the prisons of the mundane world. They are wretched and hellish places, and we were… are, a dying breed. Even with Yggdrasil revitalized, we’ve only found ourselves stretched more and more thin. We must tend to our own. Even the… detestable ones among us.” Her hands fell to her hips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well… I accept your apology, teach, and….” Amanda had to brace herself to </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> apologize to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Finnelan</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and the prospect still felt rotten in her gut. She reminded Amanda too much of her damn mother, at least up until now. “I’m… sorry for lying and covering for Constanze. And for nearly destroying a few other priceless, irreplaceable artifacts and whatever-the-hells you have stored away here….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finnelan leaned in with one wide eye. “And?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And for disrupting basically every class I </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> sleeping in…. And for the riot I almost caused.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, so you admit that was a riot?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“L-Look! I learned a valuable lesson that day…. Sucy, booze, and mysterious mushrooms are a combination made in hell. Never gonna make that mistake again, promise!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finnelan wrinkled her nose, still partially unconvinced. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Anything else?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look can I just say I’m really, really, really fucking sorry for everything!? Christ, come on; we got a meeting to get to and I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> about to miss this. I’m gonna help keep this damn school safe if it costs me my life and more, so can we just fucking go already!?” Amanda’s face was nearly red with frustration. She had a finger snub-nosing Finnelan, with her whole body leaning forward, nearly pushing the professor over; she’d had enough of this, even if it was an ultimately beneficial encounter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finnelan, surprised and leaning back to avoid being fore-head to fore-head with Amanda, stared back at her long time nuisance. Eventually, when Amanda retreated, and took on a more normal posture, Finnelan rose with her, and spoke up. “No… no I think you’ve done enough.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Finally…. Uhh, do you accept though? Like? The apology?” Amanda rolled her wrist, beckoning Finnelan to answer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, and no. I accept your apology for your generally brutish and uncouth behavior. But I do not accept your apology for the lie you made for Ms. Braunschbank. It was a wound that is wholly self inflicted; only you can reconcile with that event.” As the words left her lips, so came the contract, zipping by before halting in front of Finnelan, but on the other side. Finnelan took the pen a bit rudely from Amanda and began signing her name. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… I guess that’s only fair…. Eh? What’s that you’re doing?” Amanda leaned past and around, getting sight of the contract. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Signing my end of the bargain. I presume you’ll find it to your liking.” The document stated that Finnelan swore not to not begin any arguments, quarrells, or belligerent conversations with Amanda in any public space should the situation allow for them to move to a private area. It further detailed a statute that prevented Finnelan from banning or otherwise barring Amanda from any event at Luna Nova without proper recourse and conversations with Amanda over concerning behaviors. Lastly, it recognized Amanda as an ‘honorary alumnus,’ of Luna Nova. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda made a double take; she couldn’t believe it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Amanda O’Neill is to be formally recognized as an alumnus of Luna Nova, effective immediately, once I, Anne Finnelan, am elected as headmistress of Luna Nova.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No fuckin’ way, Finnelan! You can just… do that?” Amanda was ecstatic, but, after a few more moments thought, she wasn’t exactly sure why; no use looking ungrateful now though. It felt best that she kept up the hype. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The left side of Finnelan’s lips smirked ever so slightly. “Don’t thank me for it, Amanda. Nelson was the one who actually approached me on the matter.” Finnelan raised an open palm, conjuring a small silver pin in the shape of Luna Nova’s crest. “For your hat; assuming you still have anything of your old uniform.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda held her hands out and received the gift with grace, but also with an uncertainty of what this even fully meant for her future. “So… why? I mean, I get Nelson and I are tight but—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She convinced me that her outings with you have proven you’ve lived up to the tenants and standards Luna Nova sets for it’s graduating witches. That pin recognizes you as a witch who has mastered the art of broom riding. Wear it well.” They may not be able to be friends like Nelson and Amanda were, but Finnelan at least wanted them to be respectable colleagues. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No shit….” Amanda admired the pin, and in the meanwhile, internally monologued. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I mean, a little late to be of use…. But I guess I wanted this all along right? Luna Nova was supposed to be my escape, or at least, something that was mine….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> But it didn’t feel right to hold it in her hands, not yet. “Finnelan, er, Professor Finnelan,” Amanda did her best to be respectful in making this statement, even making sure to mind her language and her tone. “I want you to hold onto this for a while longer, if you can.” She dropped it back into Finnelan’s still open palm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finnelan, naturally, cocked her head, but otherwise did not reply. She did notice though how Amanda was carrying herself; in this moment at least, she was really putting in the effort, and Finnelan found it genuinely endearing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can only imagine we’ll need to do a bit more than just attend a few meetings to keep the academy safe.” Amanda thumbed to herself. “Why don’tcha watch me work in person. You’ll never hear me complain at Nelson for advocating, but if I’m gonna be rewarded after all that stuff I pulled,” Her thumbing hand formed into a resolute fist. “Then I wanna make sure I earned it with real intention.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finnelan regarded the pin with genuine astonishment, and then Amanda, with a proud nod. “Nelson did say you were more mature than I gave you credit; I’ll remember not to doubt her judgement.” Finnelan started walking past Amanda once more, en route to the library, where she, much like everyone else, presumed the meeting would take place. “You’ll grow to be a fine woman yet, Amanda.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, didn’t you just say I was more mature than you thought? And like, I’m twenty two.” Amanda said while jogging in order to catch up before slowing to a walk.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finnelan scoffed. “What? You think </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> makes you an adult? Please, Amanda, consider that Holbrooke is hundreds of years old at this point, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>then</span>
  </em>
  <span> you can talk to me on maturity.” Finnelan threw up a dismissive hand gesture. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Psh, and how old are you Finny?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Finny?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Finnelan turned, disgusted. “No, absolutely not. You will cease this instant with any insinuations that I am ever to be referred to by such… egregious nicknames!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> I could do worse than that.” Amanda chortled cockily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finnelan opened her mouth to retort, but when Ibrahim rounded the corner, both Amanda and her froze. “Mr. Berrada, I apologize for—” She noticed then that Ibrahim was smiling, looking glad beyond years. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There you two are! Come now, and quickly! Diana’s made a breakthrough! We’re meeting in the forest outskirts where she was working.” He was clearly happy about the news, but even still, the sense of urgency over the affair had never really left any of those in the know. A beckoning hand and wave had Ibrahim hurrying off in the direction he came. “Hurry up now, there’s not a moment more to waste!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neither Amanda nor Finnelan hesitated, and rushed off after him. Amanda, infectiously, was smiling as well now. Things were finally looking up for her! For everyone. Finnelan meanwhile kept a dour seriousness…. This seemed too good to be true. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The defenders of Luna Nova had assembled. The inky reaches of moonlight receded by the second, replaced by ever stretching shadows from a sky that began to look bluer with every blink; the sun was rising. Ibrahim had made it clear, by this time today, a verdict must be reached. They must either eradicate the threat, or be prepared for an evacuation, and up until hours prior, all hope for truly securing the academy had been gone. Now though, around the rune Diana and Akko had previously ventured too, stood a crowd of witches and warlocks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The aforementioned lovers were of course present, with Diana at the very center of the circular crowd that had gathered, and Akko right beside her. They both held each other’s hands and quietly discussed their plans for the presentation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“So is this really going to work?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Akko whispered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana nodded. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“We know what it does, at least…. Should we be unable to disrupt it’s powers, we’ll be able to work on a proper counter-spell right away.” </span>
  </em>
  <span> Diana squeezed Akko’s hands reassuringly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Just as you said, Akko: We’ll come out swinging, one way or another.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Diana’s eyelashes fluttered and her already excited yet nervous smile widened. Akko returned the expression, and grunted in the affirmative. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Meanwhile, Amanda and Finnelan had just arrived a minute ago, and were both hanging back  just at the edges of the crowd with the sight of the academy behind them. The two were quietly bickering and trying to push their ways forward in order to get a better look at what exactly was going to happen. They each earned a few curt and chiding comments as they pushed past. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nelson, already among the crowd, turned to see them both with a genuine sigh of relief. Not wanting to disrupt the generally quiet chatter and murmuring, she simply waved to them both to join her, and in time, after a few stepped on toes later, they were flanking either side of the flight instructor. “Glad you both still have your heads attached. Now look sharp ladies.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please, Nelson, I had no intention of being anything but my best for this.” Finnelan replied while she cleared her throat and straightened out her posture. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the same time, Amanda stretched her arms upward and shook off any semblance of exhaustion; nothing was getting past her tonight. “Ready for anything…. But where’s Hannah? Barbara? They not coming?” Amanda turned to Nelson, expecting she’d know at least. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nelson gestured back to the academy. “In case things get dicey down here, they decided it’d be better if they hang back. At least to start. God knows we’ll need all the help we can get if things go sour.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda blinked. “Why would it go bad…? Why are we even out here anyway? Something about Diana pulling through right?” Nelson shrugged in reply.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finnelan pointed forward, “Seems we’re about to find out.” and with those words, Ibrahim and Holbrook emerged from the crowd and made for the center. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still wearing the Antiquarian’s signature robes, cowl, and raiments, Ibrahim was only notably different looking in the head-piece he wore. It was in the shape of a stovepipe hat, cylindrical and symmetrical, but less rigid, and without a brim. It matched the indigo purple colouring of his coven, and bore an insignia which looked to be a blazing sun or star with three sets of great golden wings, like an angel from the Torah; this was the symbol of the Antiquarians. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Upon reaching the center, Ibrahim held his left arm straight upwards, and from his palm emitted an emerald pillar of light, which served as a signal, calling about twenty more Antiquarians, with Sucy among them, from their patrols to circle the meeting and guard it well. This added to the present thirty Antiquarians, and twenty professors on the ground, and once the throng had been assembled, Ibrahim closed his fist, and the light died with it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holbrooke looked up, regarding Diana, Akko, and then Ibrahim with gentle turns of the head. “We’ve heard you’ve made quite the discovery this evening. My fears were growing all too real… but I should have known two of our academy’s most esteemed witches would pull through.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko blushed, swishing back and forth in place. “Most esteemed witches? I… could get used to that.” Diana gently elbowed her, and with a pointed stare, made clear what needed to be done next. “Right.” Akko breathed in deep and exhaled confidence. To the crowd’s surprise, she’d be the one speaking first. “Professors, Headmistress, and Antiquarians!” Akko paused to look at Ibrahim and Diana to make sure she got their title right. “Before you is one of the eleven glyphs scattered around the academy, encircling it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko gestured in turn. “You know them to be indestructible, and unchanging…. Until tonight!” Even when being as serious as could be, Akko always had a bit of showmanship flare to her movements. Her wand was twirled from the sleeves of her robes and pointed it toward the ground where the rune lay. “We’ve figured out the secrets to unlocking them! It’s like… a passcode, thingy….” Akko fumbled over the specific terminology, and looked to Diana for support. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The glyphs were encased in a sort of nullifying field, extending two meters high and one meter outward. Within that zone however, nothing can </span>
  <em>
    <span>change</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Diana gestured back to Akko who fired a simple murowa spell at the rune in demonstration. A few of the watching witches either jumped slightly at the sudden cast or leaned in closer to see the expected damage. Just as Diana had foretold, it appeared as though nothing happened. “Objects and spells move through it, but their effects never hold, by way of a Mana-Lock. The spell anchors the reality in a set point in time, thus preventing the change. But we’ve broken the code to the lock!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko took the lead once more. “It’s a bit weird, and REALLY hard to explain right now, but just know that we got the code! It’s esight sigma-symbols, all around it in a circle…” Akko explained her actions for those who could not see that she was drawing the very same symbols around the rune through a beam emitted from her wand. “And then… you just… make a star!” With a few quick flourishes, a line was drawn from each Sigma to reach the center of the complicated rune. The result: a superimposed symbol of the star of chaos hovered over the glyph below, before shattering into thousands of fractal shards, and spiralling away in a whirlwind of arcane dust. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim nodded, tightening his lips. “Perhaps there’s a way to stop this yet. But of its purpose: I know you were showing doubts last night on the powers we agreed the symbols held. Have you come to a more solid conclusion?”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana prepared her wand and went down to both knees, facing the glyph. “That I have…. And I still can’t believe what we’re working with here.” A final inquisitive glancing over of the runes and a few steadying breaths were all the preparation Diana needed before she spoke the words to a spell hardly anyone expected. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Astrolia….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her right hand fell upon the center of the glyph, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Astrala!”</span>
  </em>
  <span>  and then was thrown up toward the heavens, calling forth the magicked lines and ancient symbols to dance into the sky. They formed a six foot pillar of constellations, characters, symbols, and twinkling teal lights; all inactive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The crowd collectively gasped, leaving all but Ibrahim without word or breath. Even the witches on high lowered from their normal altitude to spy on what had occured, with Sucy coming close up and behind Amanda, Nelson, and Finnelan. “I guess if anyone was going to figure things out, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> be those two.” Sucy remarked to her three compatriots, who, while acknowledging the words, focused more on the patterns of the magicked projecting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim moved closer, rounding the pillar as he spoke to Akko and Diana. “My word…. When you two first told me what it was, I must admit, I didn’t believe you.” He slowly reached out and brought his fingers to trace one of the constellations, and with that motion, the scholarly joy and excitement he had drained from his face; the gravity of the situation set in. “To think they have the knowledge to create Pythagorian reality-wards! The art to make these was lost so very, very long ago.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Concerned murmurs and waves of denial or fascination rumbled through the crowd, with many still being unable to believe the sight before them, and others having not a clue as to what they were looking at.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana obliged to explain further. “If you’re unfamiliar, Reality-Wards were first created by Pythagaros and his students, using his principles of geometry and math, and mixing them with the most olden forms of magical practice. Even today, they are perhaps some of the most powerful tools a witch could implement; capable of bending reality at its very core.” Her tone was now deathly serious. “And if the few sources we have on these are true; if the ward’s powers are in part derived from the imagery they depict, then Luna Nova is at risk of being sealed away!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko came up beside Ibrahim and spoke such that the crowd would hear her. “And the symbols clearly show the titans being sealed at Tartarus!” She looked to Diana, who approvingly nodded, which had Akko fist pumping in self celebration of her new-found knowledge of ancient Greek myth. The scene being depicted was indeed the one Akko believed it to be; on the edges of the projection is where the nascent symbols of varying constellations lie. “And if the legends are to be believed, that barrier was almost unbreakable!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The crowds grumblings turned to suggestions on what to do and calls for action being yelled out of turn; they weren’t unwelcome, but it was getting hard to manage and hear everyone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda became as cross as the arms about her chest. “Tch! What they think a stupid bubble’s gonna hold us back? We can break the mana-locks, so let's just stomp this one out and get ridda the rest!” An elbow from Nelson quieted her, followed by her clamoring to try and bring some order to the crowd alongside Finnelan, Ibrahim, and Holbrooke. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy vaguely replied to Amanda. “A mana-lock is no joke to break…. But this feels too easy.” She felt no reason to celebrate or act hastily; any those witches could be out there, watching them. Sucy took up higher to the air then, and was able to garner the attention of a few of the broombound Antiquarians at least, and had them searching high and low, looking for interlopers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In time, the crowd's unruliness died down, with Diana and Akko both stepping back, the latter speaking. “You take it from here Mr. Antiquarian! Er, Ibrahim!” She corrected as Diana quickly whispered ‘Mr. Antiquarian’s’ actual name to her girlfriend. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know how you two did it,” Ibrahim blinked, still in awe of the reality-ward’s very existence, and then turned to Diana and Akko. “But you’ve given us a fighting chance here.” He then pointed out three Antiquarians in particular. Each of which wore hats nearly identical to Ibrahims, though the sun-symbol on the top possessed one less pair of wings, a sign of lower rank in the coven. “Malakai, Vitali, Sanjana, with me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The aforementioned approached, wands drawn and at the ready. “If Ms. Cavendish is right, and we’ve been shown good evidence that she very much is, then we have to be extremely careful….” Ibrahim instructed while drawing out from his robes a small metal cylinder.  “References to these in the archives at Cairo mentioned the delicate nature of the glyphs. It could take hours just to dismantle one of them,” His eyes wandered over the symbol of the Aquila that Diana had noticed prior. “But we need to try now, to see if it can even be altered. That will show us the path forward.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Meanwhile, distant words could be heard at not a shouting volume, but one that was certainly raised; they seem surprised. Tree branches snapped, leaves rustled. The forest felt as though it were shifting, or coming alive, but so few had begun to notice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holbrooke shuffled next to the group and tapped at Ibrahim's leg with her cane. “Before you get ahead of yourself young man, I think we should agree at least on what to do about the students.” She was deeply sad to admit this, but it was the only sensible choice: “These wards; the extent of their power is well beyond ours. As headmistress, I declare that we must evacuate the school immediately. It simply cannot be helped…. Luna Nova is in far over it’s head… with a foe whom we don’t even know.” The final portion of her statement is what seemed to upset her the most. Could there truly be no peace? No Parlay?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eyes in the forest. Murmurs of those spying the spies. Was that shadow there before? It moved, just now! But to where? Amanda was catching on. Her hand slowly reached for her wand, and she whispered among the quiet crowd. “We ain’t alone out here I think….” But she hesitated to call it out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim nodded firmly, and reached down with his empty hand to shake Holbrooke’s, who accepted it. “You have my word, headmistress. Whatever happens, Luna Nova will be standing when this is all said and done.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And in that moment of hesitation, a voice all too familiar to Amanda screeched out across the forest. “Promises made! Promises broken! How little weight your words hold!” It came from all directions, high and low, from the trees, the stones, the watching eyes. Only one pair of the stalking orbs belonged to Chaos though, and said pair shot out from the shadows as a blur, with hurricane force winds blowing back the crowds that had gathered, and the flying witches above. Even when Chaos came to a halt above the reality-ward, her outstretched arms continued to cast forth a tumultuous whirlwind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana and Akko held on tight to one another as the buffeting winds assaulted them, and only through Diana’s quick thinking were they spared from being hurled into one of the many trees surrounding them. The Cavendish’s magic awakened the wood, and brought the gentle spirits of the forest to sprout a great fan of leaves which stood erect and strong against the gale. Many witches, the duo included, fell against the leaves, and were able to grab on and brace against them for support. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim instinctively made a shield of himself for the much older headmistress, snapping a button on the small metal cylinder he produced earlier, which extended out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shing!</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim’s preferred casting implement was brought to bare: A metal staff with the top of the pole ending in a circular ring surrounding an amber gem of triangular shape, and the bottom ending in a sharp javelin like spike. Through squinting eyes, held open in spite of the biting cold gusts, he was able to conjure up an ethereal shield upon which the winds broke. Even with a powerful barrier erected though, Ibrahim’s footing was constantly slipping, forcing him to plan his pike-staff into the ground to maintain his position. Behind him, Holbrooke held on tightly to Ibrahim’s robes while other Antiquarians, who’d been lucky enough to not be blown away, erected their own arcane shields. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda, Nelson, and Finnelan were among the unlucky ones, with Nelson and Finnelan both tumbling in a reverse roll, being lost to the drowning screams and shouts of so many others. Amanda found herself briefly unconscious, as if she’d flickered in and out of reality, realizing only after that one of the airborne witches had struck her head on with their body. Both were now against a large stone, the winds kicking up dirt and stray twigs and pelting Amanda in the face. Only she was conscious though, as the other had hit the rock with the very top of their skull; it didn’t look pretty. Amanda, with quick thinking, managed to pull the witch up and out of the way, as both of  them took cover behind the large stone; she was no medic, but at least they were safe for now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos, wild eyed and bloodthirsty, cackled at the struggling worms before her. “All this effort! All this planning! All for naught! You’ve never had a prayer, and yet tonight, We shall make you </span>
  <em>
    <span>beg</span>
  </em>
  <span> for a god’s intervention!” Her hurricane hands subsided, but where the elemental energies of wind once took purchase on her fingertips, now crimson light formed. “Know but a drop of the rage of Us betrayed, and TREMBLE!” The recovering witches, Antiquarians and professors alike, reoriented their gazes toward the now encroaching eyes and shadows, both below and above. Once yellowed glares turned feral and red with rage; blood filled the eyes of a hundred beasts, and braying bellows shook the eardrums of all who could hear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From the direction Sucy and her compatriots had flown off, a swarm of winged furies, harpies no less, shot out from the canopy, and circled in the sky above. From their, the spell-addled harpies began to dash, dive, and swoop in maddening patterns, but their destination was clear; all made for the gathering of Luna Nova’s defenders.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From below, dire beasts resembling hounds, no, hyenas, began to hiss and laugh their ways out of the darkness. They were notably different from any feral hyena by the spines which protruded from their backs, and the gaunt but imposing size and physique each possessed. Their mouths were buzzsaws, with equally terrible under and over bites; keen eyes spotted that they possessed two rows of teeth, one for shredding, one for crushing. And the howling! That maddening laughter! Never would they cease once it had begun, not until all of their prey had fallen, and the bones picked clean!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim and the forefront Antiquarians, with Holbrooke in tow, began falling back. “Defend yourselves! Don’t let them reach the academy!” It was all that could be done; there was still no cohesion among the defenders, and Ibrahim knew that if that didn’t change soon, this would be a truly bloody affair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was hardly a rallying cry, but with most of the witches present still conscious, and the rest just on the verge of coming to, there was no shortage of wands to be brought against the oncoming tide. There was a brief moments pause, where neither the monsters nor the defenders made many sudden movements. The beasts under Chaos’ control leaned in, inch by inch, until their wicked master made a crushing motion with her fist. “Strike!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The beasts were on the attack then, with the Harpies just now reaching the group, shrieking away such that their throats would bleed, and the Hyenas fanning out, moving to envelop the grounded witches before any true bastion could be formed. They were too coordinated to be acting of free will, nor did either of these magical creatures normally ever hunt together. In the meantime, Chaos enveloped herself in the shimmering lights of the reality-ward, becoming almost invisible due to a blinding brightness that began to emanate from where she floated; she would need time to enact the ritual in full, protected by a bubble of black and red shadows.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The defenders quickly fell into disarray, with any witches still in the air quickly overwhelmed and either forced to seek shelter on the ground, or thrown from their brooms with enough force to crack ribs and shatter limbs. The hyenas meanwhile were too quick to be properly outmaneuvered, with several of the most far flung Antiquarians being surrounded and eaten alive by the gibbering canines in the opening moments of the engagement. The monsters relied on the confusion of their foes, and fared well for it. One way or another, there would be blood.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the battle went underway, Akko, lacking almost any practical combat skills as a witch, relied heavily on her allies and Diana for protection. “BWAH!” Akko cried out reflexively, and cast a spell at random upon one of the dire-hyenas that was leaping toward her. The spell, of all things made the absolutely terrifying looking hunting dog something akin to a stuffed animal, which collided with her briefly, only smothering her; that was preferable to biting her head off at least. “Diana!” She yelped in a muffled panic, throwing off the stuffed hyena. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From her fallen over position, Akko saw Diana already on her feet, firing away with a multitude of spells, and with each, another creature fell or was wounded; but they just kept coming. “Get up Akko!” Diana yelled, turning around just for a moment to address her beloved. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko began to rise, but as she did, she found herself too slow to raise her wand in retort to the harpy which grabbed Diana by the shoulders, screaming with malevolent glee, hauling her off into the air. “DIANA!” There was nothing Akko’s body could think to do but chase after the two on foot, barrelling through the crowds and combat in a desperate sprint.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana screamed and struggled, trying to somehow safely break the taloned grip safely, but with every movement, the claws dug deeper. She was bleeding from the shoulders, but worse, she was getting higher up moment by moment. A bit of quick thinking had her transmuting her school-shoes to stone, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Gaea Beriva!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> and sure enough,she began to fall in height. But time was not a luxury she had, and so Akko was left to chase alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As all this occured, from Amanda’s perspective, she’d taken to defending her injured ally, and found they were now surrounded by the creatures. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Peria,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda sucked in a deep breath, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>INFERNA!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> and exhaled flames, with her wand held up to her lips, which kept the fires focused into a heavy jet. The spell scoured flesh from bone on the bounding hyenas, and many came to skid to a gurgling halt as their bodies ceased to function; Amanda formed a ring of fire as she turned in a circle, ending it in a skyward gout that deterred even the most maddened of harpies from approaching her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Already, Amanda was breathing heavy. A spell like that cast so quickly was draining, and the fire wouldn’t last forever; time to get creative. “Alright… up close and personal eh?” She taunted the beasts as one snapped at her from beyond the burning ring. Amanda steeled herself and placed both hands against one of the nearby trees, which she admittedly maybe shouldn’t have set on fire. A quiet spell followed, and it left Amanda with fists and wrists encased in heavy bark, but it hardly seemed to inhibit her muscle-movements. She hurried back and stood over the body of the fallen Antiquarian; here she’d make her stand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The laughing grew briefly louder around Amanda, drowning out all the sounds of the distant combat as three of the beasts backpedaled and then lunged forward, jumping through gaps in the raging fire-circle to meet Amanda in combat. The melee began in earnest with the first of the three Hyenas diving low, aiming for Amanda’s left leg. A left uppercut saw to the monster with a heavy crack followed up by a heavy right hook that hurled the stunned body back into the fire where it writhed in agony before darting away with howls and whimpers. They could still feel fear; they weren’t controlled individually, at least not to the point of lacking any free will, Amanda reasoned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was no time for reasoning though, not when the second and third hyenas both surged from either side. Amanda cursed her own lapse in focus, and braced both wood-covered arms to block their snapping jaws. Claws dug deep, and grazing teeth tore flesh along her upper arms and her thigh. The two laughing dogs refused to let up and constantly kept scratching, lunging, and biting away, until Amanda was able to get a clear shot in with a downward fist against the right most hyena’s head. The struck beast fell unconscious, but it’s hunting partner took advantage, and managed to lunge upward and clamped down like a steel cage trap against Amanda’s right shoulder!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda screamed, beating away at the thing, but it’s spiny back protected it well form such blows. She was brought to the ground, her peripheral vision having nothing but the biting smile and the feral gaze of the creature in sight. She tried rolling over, but the thing was too damn heavy, and she was losing blood quickly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“RAAGH!” A man grunted loudly, one Amanda had almost forgotten about in the brief exchange; the Antiquarian who’d injured his head brought a great earthen spike, shaped perfectly through magic from the stone they’d taken cover behind, to piece the dire beasts back, making a terrible crunching and sloshing noise as it’s spine was severed, and it was pinned to the ground just beside Amanda. It fell silent with a gurgle, it’s jaws still heavy on Amanda’s wound; at least it was dead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The savior Antiquarian reached down, still clearly in a stupor, and with struggling hands, freed Amanda from the corpses clutches. Amanda was left gasping, hyperventilating even, as she’d come too close to death for comfort there. Had her lungs been pierced, or was she losing herself to panic? “Don’t just sit there!” The man shouted in an Italian accent, it was Vitali, one of Ibrahim’s immediate subordinates. His hand reached down and raised Amanda up. “Stay with me now!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine, I’m…” Both now stood and looked around; the fire above them had gone, and the wall of flame Amanda erected was dying now. The beasts were approaching. “Fine….” The two shared looks, one of solidarity; they’d go down swinging. Each went up against each other’s backs, spells on the tips of their tongues, but they were not the first to cast the stone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That honour went to Finnelan and Nelson both, with the former’s wand elongating and splintering into countless chains that wrapped around and bound nearly half of the foes in an iron-tentacled-fury! Nelsons’ spell appeared as a bright star above Amanda and Vitali, and exploded out in a blinding light. “RUN!” Nelson commanded while gesturing to the center of the clearing in the woods.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> The battle looked bad, but the Antiquarian’s were forming a defensive ring around the injured; it was their only hope. Both Vitali and Amanda were bleeding heavily, but human perseverance did them wonders, and they bolted like lightning alongside Nelson and Finnelan. For mercy, the creatures pressing against the defensive ring hardly expected an attack from the back, being dashed aside by murowas and a few faces full of barky-fists; they’d made it</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Around this time, Akko had desperately been chasing after the Harpy-clutched Diana for a few minutes. Behind Akko was a small flock of the bloodthirsty beings, and they desired nothing more than to make ribbons of Luna Nova’s most optimistic witch. Akko was no combat-witch, she was a performer; and what a show she was putting on. She was literally bouncing between trees and stones, repeatedly casting a spell, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Galera, Galera, GALERA!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>her voice was filled with peril and interspersed with panicked screams; the spell in question was rubberizing the surfaces of whatever her wand was pointed at. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was a desperate ping-pong-witch that was somehow keeping pace with the struggling harpy, and while Akko gave it her all, Diana never let up either. Diana had ceased all focus on the harpy carrying her; even a fall from this height, at this speed, could kill her. She needed to be patient and pray Akko had a plan, or that her stone-shoe-trick would bring her down quicker. She trusted Akko more than her own strategy though, so Diana called on roots and brambles to suddenly shunt in the path of the harpies, or entangle them in a wall of thorns. Some of the summoned roots were already rubberized, and sent the flying furies backward, colliding with the others in a mess of feathers, limbs, and screeching. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko was always just out of reach however, until she made for a risky maneuver. After bouncing off of a fallen tree, which had her launching high into the air, Akko held her wand tight against her chest, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“METAMORPHIE FACIESSE!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> and so she became a… very bright colored, very large, macaw. A bird of paradise wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> what Akko was looking for; she’d have preferred an eagle, or a pterodactyl even, but at least she could fly! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Akkooo!” Diana called out, reaching with her hands to grab onto her temporarily feathered love. Despite having been in the clutches of only one harpy, Diana had suffered more than her face would admit; her back was torn up, having been constantly whipped and scraped by the branches of passing trees, and her arms were heavily soaked in her own blood. She feared the Harpy may lose her grip, but for mercy it’s feral frenzy prevented it from thinking as clearly as it normally would, and so it would hold on to a more bitter end. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko, as a very large and majestic parrot, flew as hard as her wings could carry her. She felt her briefly hollow bones tremble from just how furiously she was flapping away, and her very much Akko-ish eyes were tightly shut. She just wasn’t fast enough though, and the harpies were gaining on her! Akko’s mind raced, what spell could she use? She knew so many but also so few…. Amanda! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko remembered back to a spell Amanda taught her back when they were both students: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You can get off the ground now, sure, but if you want that broom to really sore, use this….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The memory echoed in her mind, and as the words of the spell began in the memory, so too did Akko speak them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Typherious PHOSS!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> A gale not dissimilar to the one Chaos summoned suddenly picked up behind Akko’s tailfeathers, and blasted them back while shooting Akko like an avian cannonball. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was cawing at first, but started screaming as she dispelled her transformation; Akko’s arms stretched out and miraculously caught Diana’s own held out hands. Their combined weight, with Diana’s stone boots adding on, brought the shrieking harpy to a quick and steady decline. The three then tumbled through the forest; with none knowing fully how far they’d gotten away from the thickest of fighting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana and Akko both landed beside one another as they held on tight. Diana again put her affinity for nature magicks to use, forming a sort of base-ball-mitt from a tangle of branches; when it caught them, it was surprisingly a soft landing, and the two managed to be gently let down to the cool grass below. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The harpy fared far worse; </span>
  <em>
    <span>SNAP</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It’s neck was bent in such a very horrible way, with the rest of it’s bloody body slumped up against the tree that was it’s end. That was hardly the end of Akko and Diana’s troubles however, as six harpies remained of the initial flock that had pursued the two. They were deathly persistent, and were just moments away from laying into them with thirsting talons and fangs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko and Diana, from their huddled position on the ground, clutched each other’s hands tightly. There was no one saving them; no one but themselves. Both came to sit up, trembling, out of breath, dazed, but determined yet to live and love. They both believed, and that was enough; that was their magic:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The screaming drew closer, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Phaidoari….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> both intoned. From the earth between their kneeling bodies, just beneath where their dirty and bloody fingers were interlaced, a vine did grow. The harpies were upon them; claws raked, backs bled. Both wept from the pain, but they did not mewl nor cry; the spell had to be cast. The vine grew to a haft of pearly wood, it’s head a glimmering blade fit for an axe. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Afairynghor!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> This was their battlecry, a word of Arcturus. The force of the spell pushed back the harpies and left them briefly stunned by the tremor in the air, and that moment's reprieve is all the duo needed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With heaving grunts, Akko and Diana lifted the summoned Claimh Solas in an axe-shaped-form, “SHIIINING... SLASH!, and spun around once. Where once there were six harpies and a host trees, now there was splintered timber and the halves of harpies. And where there once was The Claimh Solas, there was emerald dust, floating on the wind, and two collapsing witches, tired beyond belief. Only at the darkest of times could Diana and Akko summon the lost wand, from wherever it was, and even then it was a costly maneuver. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko fell opposite and inversely to Diana; the two were not dissimilar in positioning to a yin and yang symbol. “Diana… we’re… still—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alive.” Diana gasped the word, having lost far more blood than Akko; she was near unconscious. “Akko. The school.” Diana hissed and spit blood as she tried to force herself to sit up. “Go. Go tell… AGH!” Her request was cut short by the way her arching back agitated and pulled at the large open gash that was now across the lower right side of her back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko couldn’t bear the sight, and forced herself to move; she picked up Diana in a scramble, and stood on pure strength of will alone. “No! WE… are… going! Together!” It was so far though, and so very, very, hazy…. Akko’s vision was blurring. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then you’ll need this Akko!” A bloodied Sucy threw down a broom from up above, accompanied by a host of five Antiquarians, each of whom had sustained their fair share of injuries as well. They’d only just arrived from their own ambush, and they weren’t without losses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“S-Suuu…” Akko could barely mutter the name as the broom clattered against the ground. She had questions for Sucy. She wanted to thank Sucy. She wanted to help Sucy, to fight with her, but the situation was all too clear in Akko’s mind; it was too much for them now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy called out again, “We’re going to meet up with the others! You two need to get back to the school, now! Wake everyone up! Raise the alarm! Anything! Just get it locked down!” she was mid flight still, and with the battle still raging back near the activated Reality-Ward, Sucy and her comrades couldn’t afford to linger. Sucy hated leaving Akko with even a papercut, despite appearing as heartless and sadistic, but if Sucy knew anything, it was that Akko always pulled through when everyone needed her the most. She truly prayed that the pattern held while speeding off through the thickets and canopies off toward the battle proper. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>More importantly, Sucy prayed there was still a battle left to fight.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blasts of fire, spikes of ice, earthen shrapnel and arcane fluxes flew frantically through the air. The circle of witches Ibrahim had rallied was growing tighter, smaller. They were reinforced of course by Amanda and company earlier, but the fight wasn’t getting easier. Ibrahim couldn’t tell just how many were left, but they certainly still outnumbered the dwindling forces of the defenders. How were these beings even brought here without notice? They could cast powerful magics thought lost to time; just what powers </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> those three witches hold?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim needed to know his enemy to face it confidently, but even in times like this, when all was uncertain, he was never without bravery. Nor was he a leader from behind; he was shoulder to shoulder with Amanda and Finnelan, who were flanked by Antiquarians and professors of the academy. In Ibrahims’ hands, his pike staff was held tight; the spear-tip was bloodied and gore slicked, the magical gemstone at the top was fading, just as Ibrahim’s strength was. There was no rest to be had though, only more thrusts, flourishes, and strikes to be made at the encroaching beasts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even though Ibrahim couldn’t count the number of remaining creatures, he knew the swarms were being thinned, but not faster than the defenders own ranks. Vitali, regretfully, fell to the hungering hordes; his wound proved too much, and he passed out. He could not be dragged inward toward the center of the circle quickly enough. Ibrahim refused to allow himself or anyone else to die here, but if they were losing, then a change in strategy was needed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He considered the strategy of their opponents; they were feral, but not without guidance. Their plan was also simple to understand: Encircle on the ground after dislodging all support from the air, but it was so brutally effective. Ibrahim needed a way to turn the tide in their favor, and use the enemies strengths and weaknesses against them. His eyes scanned the battlefield in a brief moment of reprieve after he’d frozen one hell-hyena solid and then shattered it’s head with a firm strike of his staff. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were in a forest with no clear safe havens; the terrain was treacherous. Running was off the table. The air too still held a few too many harpies to risk flight by broom, and the hounds provided enough pressure from below as to strike out any time the witches took to shooting down the feathered terrors. All that remained then was the witch in black…. If she was controlling them, perhaps if her focus was broken, the beasts would turn on each other, or better yet, be sent into a rout. But to prepare a spell strong enough to pierce her defences would require the whole of the remaining witches to harness their power. They needed time and space. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another Harpy dove at Ibrahim as his thoughts got the better of his senses. He was lucky to have Finnelan and Amanda with him; the former chained the creature up, and Amanda grabbed hold of the iron chains and super heated them with burning hands and a furious incantation. The flames sped along the full length and encased the Harpy in white hot metal, melting through flesh and charring bone. Finnelan let her wand go slack and retracted her focus, sweat building on her brow, while Amanda was forced to kick an opportunistic hyena in the jaw. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look alive Ibrahim!” Amanda shouted. “You’re kinda leading us here, what’s the plan!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Plan… he needed a plan. Ibrahim bit his lower lip with such sudden force that one tooth broke the skin. He looked around frantically, just on the verge of speaking hastily, when he saw Sucy and company waiting in the nearby trees; she was signalling with a flickering purple flame held in her hand…. Morse code!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Bait… the… hook.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sucy’s other hand held a heavy pouch of gods knew what kind of alchemical concoction. The other Antiquarians with her were even piling their own supplies of various herbs and whatever plant they could have found while out and about in the forest; it was a bonafide biohazard, ready for delivery. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim looked back then to the formation; he needed a plan, and one had come to him. “Hold the line you two!” He regarded Finnelan and Amanda before stepping back. “Make some space!” The two he’d addressed turned briefly in confusion, but were forced to mind their surroundings; the second command was made for the wounded in the center. Malakai and Sanjana were among the center-most defenders, and they both rose to attention at Ibrahim approaching. “Both of you, give me your hand!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They did as instructed, and with the two now firmly laying one hand over Ibrahim’s extended palm, Ibrahim was able to plant his pike-staff in the ground and channel his entire magical reserve into it. Malakai and Sanjana took notice, and began to chant with Ibrahim a few moments after he began:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Illusion most elusive, sorceress most shadowed, Ishtar, we beseech ye!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The wounded near the pike-staff who still held fast to consciousness perked up; those in reach went for the staff, and placed their hands upon it, giving up what strength they had to power the spell. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Amaldwe, Ichte, Nachte… Seeker, Spectre, Second witch of Nine….!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The staff’s metal frame began to crack and fracture; the gemstone was blindingly incandescent! </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Shelter us, we servants in strife!”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Great light focused at the very center of the gemstone in Ibrahim’s staff, and then, it spiralled upward in an instant, coalescing twenty feet in the air in a great ball of light. The magic orb then dispersed outward, spreading its energy in such a way that it created a glass like dome of white sheen; an impenetrable barrier from without! Or so it seemed….</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the dome formed, it’s radiance fell upon a duo of Harpies that had fancied Nelson as their next target, but they seemed unphased; in truth, they had become entirely </span>
  <em>
    <span>phased</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Their hawkish screams only grew in volume as they drew closer, claws drawn back and ready to swipe. Nelson covered her face with her scratched up and bleeding arms, barely prepared for yet another savage striking, but the piercing pain never came. She peaked one eye out at a time from behind her cross limbs, surprised to see that the harpies were helplessly trying to swing at her; she flinched at each attempt, but their whole bodies were just phasing through her. Slowly, their faces and appendages elongated, growing less discernible and hazy, like mirages; this was the true power of the spell, all that pass from without became illusions, fictions of the mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Such was the fate of many of the assaulting monsters who did not heed the immense amount of magic released during the spell; they faded into moonlight, having become unwritten from this reality. It was a master level spell, known only by veteran Antiquarians, and required a constant supply of immense magical power to maintain for more than a few moments. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Nelson, along with her allies, began to breath heavily, but with ease, as monster upon monster fell against the barrier, only to be rendered harmless. The beasts soon learned their lesson though, and began to stalk at the edges of the dome; not many remained, but the defenders were weary and morale was low. Ibrahim never sat well with the idea of chemical warfare, but he wouldn’t deny his newest initiate’s plans if it meant saving lives. “Manbavaran!” He called out weakly, leaning on his staff for support, “Finish it!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy, having donned a gas mask she always kept on hand, glared at the run she’d have to make: “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sixty feet circumference for maximum coverage… maybe twenty harpies to dodge… can’t go too low, the dogs will bring me down…</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” There it was! Sucy spotted a brief opening, where the harpies, in their enraged state, but unable to otherwise go on the attack, began to howl and hiss at one another; without a foe to feast on, their violence turned inward. Now was Sucy’s chance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She gave her possibly final regards to the comrades who’d seen her through to this point tonight, and hopped off of the heavy branch she was crouched upon, with the heavy sack of death in hand. The broom buckled, but it would hold; she’d get faster as the payload was dropped, so she had to get it perfect at the beginning. A dagger, partially gilded, and bearing jagged designs on it’s hilt, was plucked from Sucy’s belt and then raked along the side of the bag, letting loose a ground up powdery like spray of…. Oh good god. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her first run around began, with Sucy angling her broom to swoop close to the ground, if only for a moment; it was a death sentence, but if she didn’t pick up speed fast, she’d never make it through the first lap, and that was was the do or die portion of this stunt. Coming up on the crowds, Sucy closed her eyes and let her broom guide her, shutting out the snapping jaws and sudden surge in laughter from the dire-hyena’s as one lept just short of snagging her broom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’d succeeded at the dive, but next came the harpy swarm, and upon opening her eyes, she saw that the thickest of the winged creature’s bickering was up ahead; evasive maneuvers! By holding the heavy sack of toxins far out to her right, Sucy was able to induce a barrel roll faster than normally possible, using weight to her advantage, and veered hard to the left such that her brooms’ hairs actually slapped one of the bickering harpies across the face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This was the home stretch, and finally the harpies were gaining on her; the toxins were in the air, as a cloud of dust that drifted at varying rates, but it would need a few seconds to truly take hold. Sucy was faced with one last obstacle; a pair of hyenas had used nearby trees for leverage, and were lunging through the air directly in her path! A shortstop of her broom would have them miss, but then the harpies would catch her. The only way was forward: Sucy threw up the sack of death hard and high, leaving it in a wide arc that would end on the opposite side of the dome. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her hands now free, Sucy spat wicked curses that had her tongue tingling; her left hand shot forth from her fingertips, a stream of pink and black bile; tar so thick and viscous that it destroyed any momentum the leftmost hyena had. It became stuck to the ground, writhing hopelessly against the goop as it began to eat away at it’s thick hide. Her right hand meanwhile held a sickly green orb of fel-fae-flames; from the orb came a terrible gout of the unnatural burning embers. A small explosion sent the beast flying, and partially in pieces, encompassed in flames that would not cease until it’s life did. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without any extra weight holding her down, Sucy was easily able to come about the other side and catch the thrown sack, albeit sloppily. She was coated in the stuff now, but it neither phased her physically nor mentally; all that remained was to empty the bag and be done with it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The harpies couldn’t keep up, and the ones that had only just now begun to notice were hacking and coughing incessantly; many flapped at inconsistent intervals and began to fall from the sky like zapped flies. The wicked canines below fared no better, and were forced to limp away during their escape attempt, but soon found they too could no longer breathe. Blood oozed from all of their orifices, along with fast-growing fungal growths that had suddenly sprung to life; not one monster survived. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Were it not for the dome, of course all the witches within would suffer the same fate, but the magicks of Ishtar turned all of the spores and gust-bound dust into figments of imagination, sparing them. Ibrahim and the others weakly cheered, but Ibrahim did not allow himself to be lost in a pithy victory; the battle was hardly won. They needed to stop the black robed witch! How long would her ritual take? She was still present, and still chanting away, with the many astrological symbols written within the glyph pulsing rainbow colors; only three remained unactivated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim looked to Amanda, but without much strength left and a great deal of focus still being given to maintaining the barrier, he could only point toward Chaos. Amanda cracked her bloody knuckles. “Hope you’re ready for a real fight you bug-faced-bitch!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Amanda!” Sucy called down, earning her friend’s attention. Amanda looked up, spotting her with another gas mask, “Get a broom! We’re doing this together!” and a pointed gesture toward a broom mercifully located within the dome. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nelson, quick to spot it, and having recovered from her breather, threw the broom to Amanda who caught it in her right hand. Before she could take off however, Finnelan whistled. “Amanda.” Amanda turned. “Prove me right.” The glinting of the alumni pin that stuck out from Finnelan’s pocket made the professor’s meaning clear. A nod was given and nothing more; Amanda mounted up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A great deal of toxins were still in the air, forcing Amanda to cover her mouth and nose with the upper portion of her shirt, pulled up to act as a hasty barrier. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Thyperios Phoss!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> A heavy gust blasted Amanda away from the hair-end of her broom, dispersing some of the cloud as she zipped past. A held out hand luckily grabbed the gas mask Sucy was passing along, and despite a disheveled and frantic bit of flailing later, Amanda was able to secure it to her face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy and Amanda linked up in the air; two symbols remained, no time left to wait. “What's the plan?” Amanda quered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A one two punch.” Sucy twirled her dagger in hand before handing it off to Amanda. In its place, from Sucy’s left sleeve, her wand shot out neatly into her hand as if propelled by a mechanism. “I’ll go first. You follow up.” She nodded, regarding the knife. “Do what you have to.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda was hardly unfamiliar with knife work, but damn was she rusty. No time to practice, “Got it…. After you?” and without any way of knowing just what kind of opening Sucy was going to make, Amanda followed her heart and gut. Trust would win the day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then they were away, with Amanda taking a wide berth to circle around Chaos’ position, and Sucy coming up dead ahead of her target. Chaos opened her left eye, but did not cease her chanting; the second to last symbol was nearly activated, she just needed a few more moments. Her black iris followed Amanda, and occasionally rested on Sucy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Doing what?! What doing!?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The Original voice within self-queried. What was she to do? The other voices provided answers, but The original had a hard time hearing…. A sort of song had started playing in her head; were those lyrics Romanian? It was drowning out the will of the many…. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“DAMNABLE CHILD!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy by now had readied her wand, and began to take measured and steady breaths. Lacking a blade, Sucy substituted it with her own teeth, and she bit a hasty few holes into the portion of her palm where her thumb ended. Blood spilled from it immediately, and Sucy drenched her wand in it before applying a heavy grip to her casting hand, both to staunch the bleeding and to steady her aim. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Walach Trech! Zizich T’lek!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She mantra’d the hissing incant over and over again as her wand began to glow an ominous white. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The aura became mist, and the mists became shape: Claws, no, a great and gangly arm, ending in a wickedly spiked fist, ethereal and ghostly, had engulfed all of Sucy’s casting arm; it was superimposed, and acted more like a mirror of Sucy’s actions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos’ eyes darted frantically; with the looming threat almost upon her, she was losing focus. She could summon any number of spells to meet the oncoming assault, but her thoughts failed her! That damnable Child had </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> this; Chaos could sense her thoughts. The Child intended for Chaos to fail here: The trap would be laid, but there would be one fatal and exploitable flaw in the execution; a weak link in the chains. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Strength!? From whence strength drawn!? Our hate is greater than yours!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The Original and other voices protested in unison, they could not believe themselves to be dominated by another…. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But The Original knew the truth. Her hate had dwindled, as had her devotion; she knew things not meant to be known, and nothing could galvanize her spirit because of that. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“The world is doomed. Was doomed. Will be doomed…. But I will not be forced to die again!”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A spinning centrifuge of thoughts had Chaos screaming her final ritualistic words which brought the second to last symbol to life; one remained. Her hands were thrown up to her face, and she cried out maddeningly. “NEVER! NEVER AGAIN!” The prospect of victory and vengeance no longer concerned her, she only wished to evade yet another death; she couldn’t bear that pain. Her whole form curled inward to a floating fetal position, only for her to unfurl and splay each of her limbs outward, revealing her true self; that eldritch visage which Amanda had witnessed up close. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy went wide eyed, but leaned in, channeling more of her strength into the cast. “ANY DAY SUCY!” Amanda called out, fearing things were about to get nasty.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Sucy could only grunt and grit her teeth while preparing to launch the spell. She pulled her arm back, the spectral claw following with, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Wight’s Reach!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> and then made a grasping motion with her arm punching forward. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like a great snake, the ghastly limb lurched forward, reaching across the great gap in between Sucy and Chaos. It stretched and stretched, growing larger too, large enough to bring it’s grasp wholly around the red and black bubble Chaos resided within. It applied a pressure quite immense for a ghostly claw, enough that it began to crack the bubble, like a slowly crumbling glass ornament. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos would not allow this to go uncontested, and pressed her four three-pronged insectoid appendages against the palm of the apparition’s hand. Dark blue energies surged against the spirit claw; energies of eld, called from far off realms and places in space, burning, yearning, howling! It was a spell that struck the mind as much as it did the body, and despite Sucy relying upon a projection, she began to feel a dull but ever increasing pain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy’s casting hand became briefly engulfed in a writhing length of shadows that twisted and glowed strangely at times; it was like an infection shooting up toward her head and heart! She began to hear voices, see things, and feel a sort of scratching on the inside of her skull. She coughed and hacked up an unnatural bile, but only clenched her first tighter. Eventually she was brought to screaming bloody murder!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda could hardly watch! It had been her fourth time circling the scene, and with each passing rotation, the situation grew worse! Could she help Sucy? Did they need to fall back? Amanda gauged Sucy’s face from where she was flying, and a single half open iris followed Amanda for the faintest of moments. It spoke volumes on Sucy’s intentions; there was death in her eyes. She’d sooner draw her final breath before she gave up on her attack. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>More cracking noises and the sounds of shattering glass began to echo across the forest. “RAAAGH! DETESTABLE WRETCHES!” Chaos couldn’t push herself any harder! Any more and her spell could threaten to kill Sucy, and the rulings of the pact would be broken…. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> entailed a fate so much worse than death. She tried pounding at the palm with powerful fists engulfed in the magic of planes not meant to be, but still, Sucy persisted. “GAAAH!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A final buzzing scream left Chaos exposed as the shield of eld power about her shattered. The ghastly hand was upon Chaos then, and gripped her tightly in a body-wide chokehold. Sucy could hardly speak the order let alone scream it, but Amanda had no need. The opening was clear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A twirl of the knife, a burst of magical speed, strained vocal chords, and a spirit on fire. The strike came and went; fleeting as memories of a simpler, more wondrous time. Amanda couldn’t really believe it, in that moment, or in any. Had the world fallen into such chaos, the unknown namesake of her stabbed foe, that witches, beings she thought of as whimsical, wise, and above all, benevolent, would be brought to bear blades against each other? Against anyone?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like The Child, Amanda too, was naive. They would both learn quickly to swim the bloody seas of life, or drown far below, in its abyssal depths. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The knife was buried deep in Chaos’ right eye, and wordlessly, her mandibled-mouth was agape. Noise, human or insectoid, could not describe the pain she was feeling at that moment; pain The Child, and all other spirits within Chaos were feeling too, but the former had welcomed it. She could not know if she felt regret for her own self inflicted torment, for she did not even know fully what she was doing, and so her control faded, her power spent for the time being. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda though, knew well what she had done, having abandoned her broom to leap onto Chaos so that she could plunge the dagger deep. Green and purple ichor billowed and spurt from the wound, and Chaos’ whole body twitched against the dangling mass that was Amanda. Eventually, both of them fell when Sucy released her spell, allowing her to rest as the infectious darkness receded from her body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda rolled and tumbled away, onto a less than soft patch of roots and rough dirt, only barely able to breathe let alone move. Chaos meanwhile, was still in the direct center of the Reality-Ward, and by the measure of her increased twitching, she was far from dead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim and Finnelan, no longer needing the dome to shield them from any of the toxins, both bounded across the forest grove to reach Sucy’s location. “Are they…?” Finnelan asked windedly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Moving…. Not dead yet.” Ibrahim noted, followed by a quiet arabic curse. “We can’t take her captive. She’s… too dangerous. We have to—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>SNAP! CRUNCH! CRACK!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos’ body contorted; limbs twisted, bones grew, broke, liquified, and resolidified into a bubbling mass that could never seem to fully agree upon a shape. Skin molted, chitin bulged and split, and where once an insectoid face rested, eyes, antennae, and mandibles uncountable began to disperse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda could just barely turn her head to witness the horrifying event, and with what little strength remained, began to scramble backward, seeking refuge behind a few fallen trees. Sucy rounded her broom and came low beside Finnelan and Ibrahim, “We have to run!” Sucy urged, “Now!” An extended hand to the two had both considering each other. In the end, Finnelan was given the privilege of flight away from that place, and mounted up with Sucy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim, having taken the risk of booking it on foot, called out to the weary and already retreating survivors. “Keep going! Back to the academy!” Then, a slimy and massive tendril grabbed him before he could begin fleeing in earnest; it had emerged from the black mass that was Chaos’ undulating form. He fell to the ground almost instantly, and clawed at the dirt with pained shouts, but to no avail. He was pulled up by the tentacle, held aloft briefly in the air, and then cast aside like a ragdoll. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy and Finnelan, having spotted this while flying away, were at least able to aid him; Finnelan fired off a hasty spell, and in the knick of time, was able to save Ibrahim via a watery bubble that cushioned his fall and the summarily popped. There was no stopping Chaos now though, not with how wounded they were. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The maddened incholate mass gibbered incessantly, and lept up like a jumping spider from tree to tree. She spoke words not comprehensible, but whatever she was doing, it was activating the reality wards! Her form covered ground at blinding speeds, crushing trees and shifting earth with every jump. While incomplete, the trap had still been sprung:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pillars of arcane energy had sprung from each of the reality-wards, and illuminated the early morning sky as the sun just crested over the horizon. At first they were straight and erect, but once Chaos had made her full round about the Academy grounds, the pillars bent inward, forming a great dome of light over the academy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda, still nearby, watched on with a raised arm as she tried to not be blinded by the spell’s immense brightness. She heard a few final incantations, but couldn’t make out the words, nor could she muster enough strength to fire off even the most basic of spells in retort. All the survivors could do was watch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The dome became whole, creating a curved-mirror effect across the whole sky, making a sort of artificial borealis. Upon reaching this apex, the spell was finalized by a starry specter of what could only be rendition of Zeus, towering like a giant above all things. The apparition manifested a sort of lightning bolt and hurled it toward the very top and center of the dome, as if to consecrate it. The bolt struck true and lit up the morning sky with roaring thunder and flashes of electricity. The trees shook, the air felt alive with energy, but for mercy, this was the end of the spells effects, as the starry Zeus-shaped apparition faded into nothing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With all said and done, Chaos’ semi-liquid form coalesced into a vaguely humanoid shape. Her once incomprehensible tongue became vaguely understandable to Amanda, “Above…. Water…. Flashes! Blinding! Burning! Yearning!” she was speaking to herself in a sobbing whisper, huddled in a kneeling position. Amanda peered over the tilted tree that served as her cover, trying to gleem more about what exactly was even going on. Perhaps she could discover a motive. “Stabbing…. Shocking…. I kept to my deals! I know what you want!” Chaos’ head tilted; she looked around wildly, in a clear state of psychosis. “Vengeance, vain, vestigial! It is fate yet you haunt me! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Me</span>
  </em>
  <span> above the rest! WHY!?” She hyperventilated almost every word.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Only the sight of approaching witches on broomstick seemed to snap Chaos out of her delusion. “Coming; they are coming! Away, away!” She scrambled to her feet, clawing at the ground for purchase, and rose as much of her flesh became as the robes she always wore. “Truths and fates… truths as fates? Always…. Or truths… and fate… made so, by being seen?” Amanda spied Chaos’ face; the dagger was yet embedded where her right eye once was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Upon gaining composure, but still clearly addled by a madness brought on by her transformation, Chaos clawed at the air. At first it seemed futile, but eventually her long fingernails found purchase in seemingly nothing, and tore a hole in reality like one torn in paper. “Too late…. Too late. No changing fate. Not now.” Chaos looked down to her own wretched hands, “Not anymore.” and into the hole she went. Her portal disappeared once Amanda had blinked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Distant shouts and groans in pain were all that graced the morning now. Amanda was left alone, only briefly, and she fell onto her back, clutching at the wound on her right shoulder with both hands, doing her best to apply pressure. She had nothing to think on what she heard; did it mean anything? Was it just insanity at work? There was no point in wondering now, for everything simply hurt and ached too much to be thought of clearly. Amanda closed her eyes, steadying her erratic breath, and let the approaching sounds of voices carry her off to an unavoidable rest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Another wounded! Over here!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well don’t just point—Amanda!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A-Amanda!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hannah? Barbara? Is that you?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p>
<hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Green, black, and white, the colors of the spiralling, seemingly infinite ley-line highways. These were the roots of Yggdrasil, the supposed blood vessels that moved magic all across the world. Lotte never could make full sense of it; was it a literal array of roots, sprawling and twisting in and across the globe? From space, during the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Noir Rod</span>
  </em>
  <span> incident, it sure seemed that way. Even then, it was clear, ethereal, and faded in time. It can no longer be seen; so is that because magic is invisible until conjured? Questions upon questions, all for scholars and wizened witches beyond Lotte’s years and ken, she reasoned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was hardly a satisfying answer to the questions though; it rang too close to all of the answers that first came to her mind when faced with a thing she did not understand, or one that she did not feel she was capable of handling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“A great witch would likely know.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Surely scientists have the answer, right?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I mean, I’m no economist but…. I mean I’m also not a politician either. Not a professor, no. No, I can’t really fix things either. I mean, not more than any other witch could. And I’m definitely not</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What am I?” Lotte broke from her internal monologue to find she was still just looking down at her broom, from where her minimized bags dangled. Infinite unknown lay below, above, around and about’ Lotte was truly alone here. Perhaps that was the worst part of what was driving her back to Finland. Akko wasn’t there to make unendingly pleasurable smalltalk. Sucy couldn’t refute Akko’s inanity with a backhanded compliment or straight faced insult that somehow still held a good deal of comedic weight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hannah and Barbara couldn’t put on their austere act or entertain her with talk of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nightfall</span>
  </em>
  <span>…. Diana, Amanda, Jasminka, Constanze. “Ugh!” Lotte tensed on her broom and shook her head. There was never any hint of peace in this journey, and perhaps there never was meant to be. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> returning home, eschewing graduation in the process, due to a tragedy, after all. But this went beyond that; at least it felt like it did. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte thought back, after all, thinking was the only thing she could do here. She had tried reading earlier, but it just upset her more, for reasons she wasn’t fully certain of. When thinking of the past, a pattern seemed to form, or rather, it was always there and only now was Lotte recognizing it: Every time Lotte was alone, she just found herself to be restless. Could some, or even, most of that be attributed to outside factors? If only hindsight was always twenty twenty; Lotte’s eyes were bad enough. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A nervous humming and a brief drumming of her fingers along the broom broke up the silent contemplation. Lotte’s eyes wandered, eventually resting upon the picturesque winding and weaving of the black lines that accentuated the ley-line highway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Didn’t it all start like that?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Going off the beaten path; an accident. Three witches, well, one student from Japan who couldn’t even ride a broom, and two witches, but enough heart between them to conquer anything. “What if I….” The thought came and went. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dive! Jump! Do it!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were repelled by Lotte’s “greatest” character traits; her caution. Who’s to say she’d even end up in Arcturus? Perhaps only the portal between Blytonbury and Luna Nova possessed that feature. Again, that’s another question Lotte </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> qualified to answer; but oh how she yearned to seek those answers!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And so she went around again. “What am I?” This time she asked herself more purposely, with a rising tone. A hand raised to her chin, slowly stroking it once with just three fingers, fell somewhat slack in front of her eyes that hungered for anything but the self to regard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was no escaping it for at least a day or two more; Finland was still quite the flight away. This particular ley-line portal would see her to Denmark, the island of Bornholm specifically. She’d taken this route plenty of times, and it had become so very familiar; but the location she was headed to now always interested her most. There were rumors about the ruins that contained the gateway to the ley-lines to have been constructed by the knights' templar. Lotte always found that strange; </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Why would a group like the knights templar want anything to do with magic? Didn’t they hate witches?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“But I won’t be the one to find that out, will I?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The self deprecating parts of her brain added in retort. It all came back to that burning question. She didn’t say it; instead, Lotte groaned. “UGH! Just….” She buried her head in her palms and threw her body backward in frustration. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A thought came to mind, one more constructive than the rest: She could call one of her friends! Sure, they weren’t present, and it was hard to tell what time it was, but given the circumstances, they’d understand. Lotte pulled out her wand in a hurry, eager to relieve her isolation, and dialed in a communication spell through a few incants and careful wand flicks. The result was…. Strange. She couldn’t even get any sort of magical signal to reach Luna Nova; it felt like her magic just </span>
  <em>
    <span>fizzled</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Was it a result of trying to make a call while in a ley-line highway? Lotte could swear she’d made calls like that before. She tried again; nothing. “Ah well…. I’ll try calling tomorrow.” Lotte resigned herself back to introspection and loneliness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few minutes passed, or maybe an hour did, but finally, Lotte was able to stick to a coherent inner-voice’s suggestion: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Maybe…. Ok. I’m going to say the things I most certainly am. You know this stuff, Lotte, let’s just… calm down. I mean, it’s you we’re talking about. Er, me. I mean. But</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Enough monologuing; she felt just as awkward talking to herself as she did others half the time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok…. So…” Lotte raised one hand up and counted the things she would speak on her fingers. “I’m… a woman. Right?” Lotte puzzled on that briefly; were she Amanda, she might go on a brief tirade of swearing and cursing at herself. The first thing to be brought up and she couldn’t even be certain of that! Wonderful. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok I’m counting that as a thing, for now.” Lotte raised one finger; issues of gender had crossed her mind before, recently, and in the near and distant past. It wasn’t something that tore her up when contemplating, and she found that to be a great blessing compared to what she had heard from some of the other students at the academy, who had either fully transitioned already, or were in the midst of the process of discovery. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh… I’m a witch!” Finally, something uncontestable; two fingers now. “I’m a….” Her brain tried to fill in a few of the blanks before she decided to speak them, as if somehow, while wholly alone, that she would be judged during  this self imposed exercise of identity. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“A good person?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Am I really about to be that vain…?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“A bibliophile! I love reading novels; I mean, my Nightfall collection is almost</span>
  </em>
  <span>—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Nerd.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte sighed, and raised a third finger. “I’m—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Drifting through life like a petal in the wind. Get real.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte did not raise a fourth finger, but she felt a strong desire to. Thankfully the leyline highway came to an end just then, leaving Lotte in the aforementioned ruins on Bornholm. So many mysteries and secrets could lay under any of the stones and bricks that lay scattered about, undisturbed for an unknowable amount of time. Mysteries she would likely never know; if only because her mind consigned herself to such a fate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was very early in the morning; had she really been travelling all that time? Until that moment of realization, Lotte felt raring to go for more broom riding, but upon setting her feet down on the stone floors, a wave of exhaustion crashed against the shores of her psyche. Lotte spun about, examining the place, and found a cozy spot to curl up in; not without her sleeping bag and magicked fire of course. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ten minutes passed, and she had her own veritable campsite, neither too cold nor too hot; not too cramped nor too spacious. She was bound up in her sleeping bag, but still dressed for travel, not that the ruins of some ancient order were a site for comfortable outfit changing. Lotte had considered finding a hotel, or at least a house in the nearby towns that would let her stay within, but didn’t feel she possessed the social energy for either of that. Sure, the townsfolk of the island knew her face decently well, as she’d explored it before, and she did so </span>
  <em>
    <span>desperately</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to not be alone….</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But here she was, all by herself still. Did she enjoy upsetting herself? She’d given up on that identity experiment, at least for now, and instead tried to focus on a good book; her favorite books, actually. “Ah…. Now where did I leave off?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“May you writhe in interesting times.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The dark sorcerer, the portals to times and dimensions far flung; a trio of friends, seperated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte stared, groaned, and closed the book, almost as soon as she opened it. That line and scene didn’t upset her when she first read it, not like it did now. Lotte pushed her head deep into the pillow she’d brought along, having set aside her glasses. She tried to force sleep upon herself for a few minutes, but when it never came, Lotte sighed, and turned to the side, her half open eyes seeing the Skull-Lantern, the real one that Akko had gifted her on Sucy’s recommendation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Geh!?” She recoiled slightly, only to exhale a chuckled sigh. “Hehe… silly me.” It wasn’t familiar looking, or as fake seeming, as the replica; that thing was </span>
  <em>
    <span>certainly</span>
  </em>
  <span> real…. And when did she take it out of her bags anyway? Let alone set it beside her sleeping head? This was becoming less funny.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte didn’t want to stand up and go through the tedious task of actually opening up her luggage and stowing it away; that would just make her feel less tired again. She opted to just turn it around, so it wasn’t facing her. Upon closing her eyes though, and a few minutes passing, Lotte quickly blinked and found it was staring at her again! “WAH!” Lotte shuffled in her sleeping bag as she backed away from it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was creeped out no doubt, but this thing, even when Akko had first shown it to her, seemed very alluring to Lotte. It wasn’t her </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so to speak; it didn’t match her typically flowery and gentle vibes or aesthetic, but she loved it. Even now, as it watched her a bit too closely while she slept, she loved it. Maybe she wasn’t alone tonight after all? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whether that question should come off as terrifying or comforting was nebulous, and to Lotte, it seemed as crazy as it sounded. “Nothing to do about it, I guess…. Goodnight Mr. Skull.” And that sounded crazier, but also comforting to utter. She got no response, and wasn’t sure if she should have expected or wanted one, but it was the reality, and so she lived with it. Sleep came mercifully quick then, but as Lotte drifted away, one last internal question floated about the sea of thoughts in her head:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Maybe Mr. Skull is… Maybe he’s got the answers I need?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She normally spoke to spirits within objects, but how hard could a seance be?</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The highest tower of </span>
  <span>Čachtice could never reach the true height of the Bathorys’ aspirations. It hardly even pierced the clouds let alone bring them to look down over all of Earth, but it was what they had. It was now the site of a dark ritual; Elizabeth would be made resplendent, powerful, and whole. Within the tower itself, only the necessary persons and most entrusted were present:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin and Nikolai both had sequestered themself off at the entrance to the balcony which overlooked the rest of the fort, both looking on expectantly at the ritual goers. Several other of the more respected vampires were permitted entry, including some lessers of the Bathory name and lords and ladies of such high status as to be allowed to bear witness. The ritual itself could only be attended to by mortals, The Speaker included, who was attended by exactly twenty other robed supplicants. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The room was once just a lookout position, manned by guards and watchmen, but it had been transformed into a den of blood and sorcery. The walls were covered in elaborate depictions and paintings of Elizabeth Bathory in pre modern, romantic, and renaissance stylings, all of which featured her as beautifully divine, erotically bloodied, or as some interpretation of the latter two depictions mashed together. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Each painting was marked by one or two words in olde Hungarian, either referencing or being tangentially interpretable as “rise,” “awaken,” or “rebirth.” Each of the paintings also seemed to be bleeding, or perhaps oozing some dark black and faintly red fluid which pooled at the edges of the room, and either due to a slight angle in the floor, or from magicked coercion, flowed toward the center, where the mostly boney and fetid body of Elizabeth lay. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just at the head of the aforementioned half-corpse monarch, stood The Speaker, who was perfectly upright, but otherwise gyrating the upper half of her body in small circles as she mantra’d the needed chants. Two smaller circles of supplicants formed, with five near the center, constantly walking clockwise with held out and exposed forearms, and then the remaining fifteen walked counter clockwise on the outside of the room, also revealing their forearms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>These proceedings had been going on for about an hour, and only now did Nikolai seek to break the silence. “How much longer? Her subjects are growing restless out there.” Though many were indeed corpses, the mortal servants below in the courtyard were getting anxious and calling Elizabeth’s name.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin fanned herself lazily. “Were it possible that we could make them work harder, and faster, we would, Nikolai. Such is not the case; matters of the arcane require patience, tact, and ritual.” Katalin knew little of the practices of witches and warlocks, but she knew more than any of her noble compatriots in unlife. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rituals complexity was not it's most important feature, but rather the belief and earnestness in which they were enacted; and the blood and bodies of course. “Besides, we still lack a crucial piece to our plan. Another day here shan’t kill us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It won’t kill you perhaps, but if those wyrd sisters you seem to trust so much do not hasten their efforts</span>
  <span>—” Nikolai began belligerently, rolling each of his knuckles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ll do nothing rash, brother; and let it be known I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do not</span>
  </em>
  <span> trust them. You simply lack the insight to tell a very earnest lie from a genuine show of respect. Allow </span>
  <em>
    <span>true</span>
  </em>
  <span> rulers to do the talking, and all will be well.” Katalin’s tone would almost be comparable to one used to address a misbehaving puppy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai wasn’t so daft as to not catch her insulting means however, and grabbed her left bicep forcefully. “You are no true ruler here, </span>
  <em>
    <span>dear sister.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Our queen yet lives. Remember that well, for your own sake.” He ceased accosting her with a hasty shove from her grabbed shoulder. “Bestowed all of us who have gathered here, we are, by God and the heavens; but only </span>
  <em>
    <span>She</span>
  </em>
  <span> has true right to rule….” Neither would say it, especially not Nikolai, but the obvious continuation would be, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Until her undeath ends.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whether or not Elizabeth could hear her squabbling children was unknown, especially as the ritual began to change from the usual fare. The Speaker had suddenly stopped her gyrating, and pulled from the floor an axe, made for hacking limbs and heads. “With this blade and blood hewn, I offer unto thee! Great Monarch to be! That was! And forever again will reign! The blood of a hundred souls, fetched from the lands that are yours by right!” The fluids that flew from the paintings suddenly surged and enveloped Elizabeth’s half-corpse body in a sort of cocoon of rimson ichor. “But the blood of gentry shan’t serve to satiate the divine! I offer you too, twenty servants, willing and ready, to be received into thy veins! Drink deep the blood of the devoted and know their conviction!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Such began the hacking of arms; each of the twenty supplicants were relieved of their arms at the elbows, but they hardly seemed to flinch. Some shouted in pain or mewled weakly, but their devotion was greater in spirit than the pains of flesh; none ceased their circular marching. Spurting blood and fragments of flesh, bone, and muscle fell to the ground, all being invariably pulled toward the crimson cocoon. The whole of the arms themselves even began to move of their own volition, and claws at the ground, making way for the center of the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai nodded approvingly, “Finally.” and smiled toothily. His claws eagerly stroken at his own cheeks and chin, not out of any curiosity for magic, he found the stuff to be detestable, but out of eagerness to be properly reunited with his mother and queen. No good moment could last forever though, as a certain pair of taunting voices intruded upon the macabre gathering. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They approached from the left and right, from behind Nikolai and Katalin. “Could this obsession with dress and regality truly ever” Cause intoned lethargically, followed by Effect, “Be anything but a fulfillment of a delusion of grandeur?” and then the two spoke together. “Does pride not always precipitate the fall? Dearest clan of Bathory?” The twins then laughed in giggled and flanked Nikolai and Katalin, craning their heads up to speak again, now directly to the vampires’ faces. “Specters do love to walk the halls of where they died, no? In dress and fair most familiar?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Enough, you two. You waste our time and test the patience of our allies.” Will silenced them both, pulling the two back toward the edge of the balcony where she floated by unseen force. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“WAGH!” Cause and Effect yelped, with the latter grumbling afterward, now on Will’s right side. “We merely return the respect given!” Cause nodded aggressively, “We refuse to be thought of as so easily deceived!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Nikolai and Katalin, alongside several of the other lesser vampires turned to face the Fates. Katalin was quick to usher them all outside to the balcony where the witches floated, and closed the curtain behind them such that the ritual would go undisturbed. Nikolai raised a fist and shouted to the fates. “What right have you to interrupt Her most glorious revival!? </span><em><span>You</span></em> <em><span>will be made to answer for</span></em><span>—” </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin got between the two groups with a hand on Nikolai’s chest pushing him back toward a corner, such that they could speak alone. Before they could actually impart any words though, Will spoke up. “We come bearing a gift; the final piece to our plan, and you regard us with disdain? Already you have asked more than what our pact entailed…. And our patron has no qualms against its power being used against those whom we do not hunt.” Internally, she had no intent to actually attack the vampires; they were too useful as pawns, but they needed to be reminded of the delicate balance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin shoved Nikolai away as he sputtered and bellowed insults, but Katalin managed to talk over him. “And you are right to be angered at the transgressions that threaten our </span>
  <em>
    <span>honoured</span>
  </em>
  <span> deal! But truly what happened at Ludinghal was but a mere… gaff; a fluke! Nothing but a bump in the road, yes?” She was not truly afraid, but appearing as such, she rationalized, may be endearing to the fates. What Katalin was actually concerned about though, is where Chaos was; that one had always been disquieting from Katalin’s perspective. “And, pray do not take this as a sign of concern, but where is… your more eccentric companion?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Irrelevant.” Will sharply intoned before nodding gently to Cause and Effect.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause and Effect were permitted to speak. “A slight made is a slight that must be righted! Equilibrium must be restored!” Both leaned in, glaring. “The pact stands, but with how you speak of us when you think yourselves all alone, and your overstepping of boundaries; it demands a… payment.” Cause and Effect slowly turned their angered faces to devilish grins and flew back and behind Will, who simply nodded in agreement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Choose.” Will regarded the crowd of assembled vampires on the balcony. No further instruction was given. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hasty accusations, guffawing, and general bourgeoisie retorts suddenly clouded the minds of all the vampires present. Katalin was desperate to try and assuage their fears, including her own growing concern that any of them could suddenly turn on her and spell her doom. Nikolai put a stop to that when he pushed past his adgitated compatriots and retorted. “Madness! Why relinquish a life as penance for a paltry few insults and the </span>
  <em>
    <span>rightful</span>
  </em>
  <span> demands for a greater bit of labour on your part? This exchange is ungodly and foolish!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will raised a brow, and slowly lifted her left hand, the palm of which beginning to radiate white and blue lines that lit up along her skin. Nikolai suddenly felt a great deal of pain; an intrusion in his thoughts and memories. Though Nikolai was no lowly scribe or modern day secretary, it could only be described as a chainsaw being put to a stack of books, or being used to rifle through a filing cabinet; all of which was the total sum of his existence and experience. Eventually, the intruding presence stopped on a particular memory:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“M-My lord</span>
  </em>
  <span>—” The voice of a lowly farmer began in his head; in the minds of all those on the balcony. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“My wife, she is ill! Hysterical! A tippler at heart; it soothes her…. She did not mean the words in the slightest! I swear!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Another muffled voice followed, though it’s contents were either withheld from being shown or were not perfectly remembered. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“N-No! You must know mercy! You, Lord Zrinsky, are you not the land’s greatest defender? From the bottom of your endless wealth of benevolence I beg you, please! She did not</span>
  </em>
  <span>—” The voice was cut short by the man’s own death squeals. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai and the rest were stunned, each holding their head or gut with while in a bit of a daze. Will spoke in the place of their groaning. “I believe you went to see that farmer to… </span>
  <em>
    <span>request an increase in</span>
  </em>
  <span> the tithe of swine and wheat for that season?” Will turned about and looked out toward the dark blue sky, toward a great mass of clouds darker than anything but the void, illuminated only by storm clouds; it was approaching, and quite fast. “So please, do tell Us again the absurdity of our demands? We believe We’ve forgotten already.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Where Nikolai was without words, but searching to foolishly continue the argument, Katalin suddenly surged with her inhuman speed and stabbed one of the lesser vampires in the base of his spine. He was a German prince relieved of his province long ago after his </span>
  <em>
    <span>appetites</span>
  </em>
  <span> became known to his subjects. Katalin’s weapon for murder was nothing but her own claws, and the prince spasmed, clutching at his back hopelessly while Katalin shouted. “This one! We choose him!” The crimson of her dress hid the blood and gore of the prince’s now opened back that was spilling out; now she was afraid, but displayed only anger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While still alive, the prince began to curse and rave about treachery, and hurl insults at the Fates, only for Will to raise her right hand, while still looking away, and slowly close a fist while words of power escaped her lips. The prince’s head began to tense, his dead veins becoming clear through the skin, and his features becoming taught along the bone; he screamed in agony. Upon the last word being whispered, his head exploded, having been crushed like a ripe fruit. “Your debt is paid then. Perhaps we can all agree now that our business should be conducted </span>
  <em>
    <span>without</span>
  </em>
  <span> the fear of dissent or betrayal?” Still, Will did not turn, even as the now dead prince’s body was allowed to go slack and flop against the balcony floor, unceremoniously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai began with a fury immeasurable, blowing hot air from his nose like a bull, “What right have you to—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right of our future success! Sacrifices have already been made; what’s one more?” Katalin raised a claw just below Nikolai’s throat, as if threatening to cut it, before she turned back to the Fates. “And you who have claimed to search tirelessly for vengeance, would you not agree?” Nikolai was on the verge of exploding; he could hardly contain his rage at being snubbed so viciously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will opened her mouth to talk, but the sight of the dead prince’s body being sucked into the curtain-covered door frame grabbed everyone’s attention. The sounds of bones shattering, flesh ripping, and generally all manner of gorey dismembering echoed about, piercing the night. The lesser vampires began to murmur. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She is awake!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Returned to us!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Even </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> body was taken?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Glorious day!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin and Nikolai both, without another word, tore down the curtains, revealing to all the almost wholly crimson nude form of Elizabeth Bathory. She was standing sultrily in front of a burst blood-cocoon with The Speaker in her arms, dangling lackadaisically, but still awake. “And now I give myself to thee…. May God reward us well, for I have loved and served his most perfect daughter.” Her throat was then ripped open by hungry fangs of the angularly featured, but otherwise unmarred form that was that supposed “perfect daughter of God.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Upon drawing her last breath, The Speaker’s body melted into blood and viscera, with every drop being absorbed into the pores of Lady Bathory’s skin; such was the fate of all the corpses taken with the chamber during her revival. As The Speaker became one with Elizabeth, the vampire queen “sprouted”, for lack of a better word, a fine dress befitting a queen of the period in which she originally ruled, but was so much more gaudy and tacky than even Katalin’s attire.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was pristine and primarily black, but it sheened even when not in direct light. The dress itself did not billow like an inverse flower-bud, but it was slightly wider at the hips than need be. The tail of the dress sported a winding crimson image of an east european dragon coiling around and around until it reached the peak of her accentuated collar that ended at the height of her hair. In general, the dress was very pointy, especially by the wrists, shoulders, coif, and collar, as well as where the dress terminated at the ground.. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lady Bathory examined herself and the dress with a wide, open mouth smile, her voice running off of her newly rejuvenated voice box and tongue like the smooth gliding of a needle against a fresh record. “Loyalty…. Is its own reward.” She caressed part of the immaculately soft material that comprised her dress against her face. “What a wonderous garment she made…. I knew I chose my speaker well.”  Bathorys’ eyes then fell on the onlookers, and still, she smiled with sultry and wicked contentment. None of the vampires dared say another word before throwing themselves to prostrate before their sire, with gazes averted unless given permission to witness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai and Katalin were the only exceptions among the nobles, both of whom kneeled while looking on intently, expectantly, for praise and succor. The Fates meanwhile could hardly seem to care, floating on just as they had before, though Will did finally turn to address the true leader of their so called allies. “We are glad,” of course, she did not smile, “to finally be speaking with the proper master of the house, Elizabeth.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bathory did not openly contest the first name address she was provided, nor did she address her spawn or the lack of prostration from the Fates. Her heels which manifested alongside the dress, clacked slowly across the floor until she was out on the balcony. “As am I. It will be good to better know who my children have bargained with…. Perhaps I might entreat you to dine sometime? I feel women of power such as we would do well to understand one another over wine; maybe the finest of slaughtered sow? Or do our tastes align outside of our aspirations?” She licked her own bloody fangs after asking that last question.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tastes?” Cause and Effect look to another queerly, and then back to Will and Bathory. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will withheld the existential disgust she had for Bathory, and almost everything else present, for being even implied to share the same aspirations, let alone base desires as the night-queen. “No.” A moderately strong wind picked up from seemingly nowhere and brought Cause, Effect, and the vampires excluding Bathory to shiver or otherwise brace their capes and cowls. Will and Bathory meanwhile shared unwavering stares. “We can speak of strategy another time, for planning shall be pointless lest we have the tools to execute the operation.” She cut right to the heart of what Bathory’s purple prosed tongue seemed to imply. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, a woman of substance and business is never unwelcome in my court. Too often do I deal with sycophants who.... Oh how they bring my blood to </span>
  <em>
    <span>boil</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” She laughed softly, knowing well that she was in the presence of at least one or two of the aforementioned persons. “A moment though; my adoring hordes do deserve at least a glimpse of me. They’ve waited long enough, haven’t they?” She regarded Nikolai and Katalin, who both nodded approvingly and barely contained the jealousy of not being the ones first spoken to by their mother and queen; how did Will deserve this blessing and not them?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will sighed, “Do what thou wilt….” and convened with Cause and Effect off to the side, with the three preparing some dark spells and intense magicks. “We shall prepare our presentation in the meantime.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth nodded pleasantly to the coven, and then stepped forth to the edge of the balcony. Slowly the calls to see the queen turned to jubilant and throthing cheers; the crowds below, five hundred strong, had gone near feral upon witnessing her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slowly, Bathory raised her arms high above her head as if commanding an orchestra to hold a singular note. “NIGHT!” She began to declare with a deliciously smooth tone. “HAS FALLEN! NOW, AND FOREVER!” Her “adoring hordes” ate it up, only increasing in their frenzied devotion and love; so much so that they did not even seem to realize that dawn was actually fast approaching. Bathory was of course well aware; this was not a statement of facts in the now, but practice for her visions of future proclamations, made before billions, not hundreds. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though not intending to serve the image of Lady Bathory and her egoism, the notedly fast approaching mass of black clouds had finally blotted out even the faintest hints of moon and sunlight cresting over the horizon; it hung directly above them, with lightning and thunder serving as the only form of luminescence now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai finally made a move to speak. “That storm…. That is your doing?” He addressed the Fates with genuine curiosity. “What witchery… is… </span>
  <em>
    <span>this?!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” His voice, initially confident has ever, slowed as he was awestruck by the sight of what loomed in the clouds.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin rose to her feet alongside her brother, sharing his astonishment. “By God.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From the great storm cloud, brought forth by the Fates’ magics, a series of spotlights switched on, unveiling pieces of metal, and a great, massive, bulbous surface of canvas, encased in wickedly formed steel and stone. At the peak and near the front of the immense vehicle, a flash of lightning revealed a great stone edifice, a dragon, similar to that displayed on the Bathory coat of arms, was embedded in the face of a massive sprawling structure; a castle of nightmare. Finally, as the true centerpiece, a humongous cannon, the one Cause and Effect had stolen from some poor army of mundane soldiers, rested beneath the stone Dragon’s gaping grimace, near where the lower decks began, separating the gothic from the modern. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will spoke, breaking the relative silence up on the balcony. “First and foremost: Your chariot to death and ruin.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause and Effect began to giggle, “And, what is a chariot without workhorses?” Cause flew upward in a spiralling fashion to meet the flying fortress, and conjured in the sky, a powerful sigil, forty feet in diameter, depicting a massive eye and grasping hands reaching for the iris. Effect, down below by the balcony still, fired up a beam of magical light toward the center of the Iris, creating a refracting light, like when sunlight meets a clear diamond like surface. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The glinting light awoke and called on the proverbial Army of Darkness. Many swooped, some lept, others shambled about the deck or crawled along the walls like insects. Monsters and creatures of every myth and land, most real, some perhaps imagined. The whooping of the fel things joined with the chorus of chanting of the crowds below, repeating the first words of Elizabeth Bathory’s return to this world. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“NIGHT HAS FALLEN! NIGHT HAS FALLEN! NIGHT HAS FALLEN!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bathory felt her one and only tear within her body, the only bit of emotion she allowed to distract herself from absolute power, wash down her pale cheek. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Magnificent….”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/>
<hr/>
<hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey hey! Here's those important end of chapter notes I was telling you about earlier! Be sure to give them a look before you read chapter six. If chapter six isn't out yet, of course you can wait on that; I'll make sure to post a reminder at the beginning of chapter six to come back here. </p><p>Next chapter will be an "interlude" chapter, which will be something I do at least twice in every fic for this series; the first being called an "interlude" and the second likely being referred to as a "rondo." You'll see the proper naming convention in the works when it's posted. It will NOT be very long; likely only amounting to maybe ten pages in a google doc (where I do my writing before I post it here). What it will have though is tons of substance that references the psychology of certain characters (you'll catch on as to who these interludes primarily are focused on very quickly), and will also not be in a normal narrative style. Notably, the first will feature a poem of sorts, as if from the stream of consciousness from the character's mind. Poems/parts of the chapter like that also will feature some heavy edits to the text, which I sadly can't display in the AO3 text formats. This is due to the fact that certain sentences or parts of sentences will be in different fonts. I leave you to figure out why when it is posted. Because of that limitation on AO3, you'll find a link to the specific google docs I make for the different sections as your meant to read them,  likely interspersing them between the rest of the chapter's content which will primarily be told through radio/news broadcasts, and perhaps some dialogue between character's that you've all not been properly introduced to yet. </p><p>It's very much a way for me to challenge myself creatively and I think it will be a refreshing way to garner some information rather than just reading the chapters as normal. I don't intend really for much of the info told there to be never expanded upon anywhere else of course; treat it like pieces to a puzzle where you aren't given a full picture of what it's supposed to look like yet. When the time comes in either this fic or future fics, those details will be relevant! </p><p>PHEW! That was a whole lot to write as an explanation there. Hope it hasn't turned you off to reading chapter six! Expect it soon! Unless your in the future, then you should have expected it earlier!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Interlude in Black | Troubling News</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>(Content warning for the Second Document, Titled: Puddle. Reference to child abuse, specifically trans child abuse.)</p><p>LO! THY DREAD EMPIRE, CHAOS! IS RESTOR’D;<br/>LIGHT DIES BEFORE THY UNCREATING WORD;<br/>THY HAND, GREAT ANARCH! LETS THE CURTAIN FALL;<br/>AND UNIVERSAL DARKNESS BURIES ALL</p><p> </p><p>-Alexander Pope, The Triumph of Dulness, from The Dunciad</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1GfD-X5wWREs7h0j2-h4qSQgYGN7awD49bjRRTkRFB-E/edit?usp=sharing">PEER AND BE MADE TO SEE;</a> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1GfD-X5wWREs7h0j2-h4qSQgYGN7awD49bjRRTkRFB-E/edit?usp=sharing">THINE EYES, VICARIOUS, VOYEURISTIC;</a> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1GfD-X5wWREs7h0j2-h4qSQgYGN7awD49bjRRTkRFB-E/edit?usp=sharing">DOOM THEM ALL </a> </strong>
</p><p> </p>
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<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>The news came and went, as it always did in the mundane world. Tragedies occured, miracles took place, and the normal persisted; in the end, everyone woke up in the morning, and slept at night, just as always. </p><p> </p><p>The following was from a broadcast sent from an EU wide station. It was played straight as every broadcast was, but the contents were quite intriguing indeed:</p><p> </p><p>A very young and fit sounding voice of a man explained the tail end of the weather reports. “And as you can see here, it seems an extremely dense formation of thunderstorms has appeared right over south eastern Slovakia and is now blowing in toward Czechia; and based on our current readings, could go in a few directions.” A chart represented the phenomena he spoke of. </p><p> </p><p>“We’re not entirely sure why a sort of super storm like that has formed, but we’re getting reports of winds reaching forty kilometers per hour and constant thunder and lightning. Luckily for low land areas, there’s hardly any perspiration in the air, so flooding shouldn’t be an issue. And you can see by the predictive forecast here, it’s likely to cut through central Germany, pass right over Hanover and Hamburg and then make for Denmark or the coast. By then, hopefully, this freak storm will have died out into something more typical.” A pause occured, allowing the viewers to follow the predicted storm's path. </p><p> </p><p>“Though… I’m actually being handed some information here that the storm is also moving much faster than most. A few scant reports claim it will head a more direct westward path, based on our storm chasers on the ground. One particular claim has it heading along Northern France and toward the Southern British coast. Again, we hope that this storm doesn’t make it that far in its current state, and we also advise you not to panic. This storm has only just formed yesterday, and we’re still gathering proper data on its nature. This has been the Central Euro Weather Forecast with Brian Westfield; take it away Sara.”</p><p> </p><p>A short animated transition switched the view away from the weather forecast and refocused on the woman in question who sat at a typical news-room desk.</p><p> </p><p>She was a french woman with a plain face and brown skin, wearing a sensible purple suit-dress, and welcomed the program with a smile that was far too clean to be natural. “Good evening,” her voice, like all on the broadcast, was translated to suit the many nations it was being heard in. “I’m Sara Demaret bringing you a conversation families and concerned citizens have no doubt been having all across the world: What place does… <em> magic </em> , or anything that we can clearly classify as <em> anomalous </em> … have in our everyday modern lives.”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p> A brief pause allowed her to turn in her chair and face whom she was about to address. “To help continue that discussion I am joined here today by Arno Siegler, lead secretary of operations for Speartip Security; and if I’m not mistaken, your associates are the largest organization working directly alongside the German FIS in response to this attack?” She then allowed said man to speak. </p><p> </p><p>“Good to be here Sara; Speartip is indeed working closely with German officials to both secure the current site of the attack, and contain whatever forces caused the event in the first place” Arno is a very rectangular fair skinned man with a dull jaw and large forehead; clearly old, and sporting rectangular glasses. His eyes had never seen death, and so he carried his calm expression weightlessly. His voice though had ordered terrible things, and so it was always grim and blunt.</p><p> </p><p>Sara picked up again; “We’re also joined by Dr. Bruno Palmieri, one of the most upcoming <em> academic </em> scholars of the anomalous in the EU; and likely <em> the </em> leading scholar on the subject in his home-nation of Italy. Welcome Doctor Palmieri.”</p><p> </p><p>A round tan face, belonging to the doctor in question, nodded. “Thank you, Sara; you’re too kind.” He was always a man of few pleasantries and of small stature, but he is wider than he is tall. He spoke as any professor might be expected to; clerically but not without passion, even if it was muted. He constantly stares at one random object in particular, and imagines picking it apart and understanding it in full; he does this especially in the face of the arcane, living or otherwise.</p><p> </p><p>“And lastly,” Sara intoned once more before beginning the panel in earnest. “We have Liliosa Gomez, former minister of labour for Spain back in twenty seventeen, who is now campaigning for the rights of anomalous beings… or persons, so on, in workplaces across the EU. She sadly cannot join us directly but we have her on call right now; Liliosa can you hear us?”</p><p> </p><p>Liliosa’s voice took a moment to properly react to what was being told to her, and it comes off slightly muffled due to the nature of being put through the connection. “Yes I can hear you just fine; thank you. And, just for the record, our organization prefers to use the term Fae when describing non-human beings who utilize magic.” She spoke from a place of knowing, but was firmly an outsider. </p><p> </p><p>None on the panel truly represented beings and persons of the arcane ways.</p><p> </p><p>Sara paused and stuttered, ignoring the correction. “R-Right, well, just to get things started off, now that our audience is familiar with you, why don’t we begin. The topic of discussion, as you all know, is what we can only imagine everyone has on their minds: Just where does magic belong in modern day society? We’ll start off with just a simple statement from each and then we can come back around and start interrogating those points. Lili; can I call you that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, sure. That's fine.” Lili seemed to nod despite no one being able to see her. </p><p> </p><p>“Good, so let's start with you and then run to Dr. Palmieri and Mr. Siegler, shall we?” Sara smiled perhaps too hard; Sara was never truly happy. Sara says what she is told to say.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, given my background working for the ministry of labor I have always put the rights and concerns of workers first,” Lili quietly ignored all thoughts and memories of the grass roots unions she had previously crushed and scattered. “And that has never changed. The rights of this new population, no matter suddenly they have appeared, deserve to be not just codified as any humans’ rights, but enforced as well.” </p><p> </p><p>“Mhm.” Sara nodded thoughtfully, but it could never be known if she cared for what any of the guests said. “Dr. Palmieri?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” Bruno began, shifting in his chair to better speak into the microphone. “I think that… immediate integration is already happening. And frankly, I find this to be a dangerous prospect. One day, when we are more well prepared for such a change, then I would be open to the idea that the anomalous has its place in the world. Right now, it is… an intrusion; a disruption of daily life.” </p><p> </p><p>He paused, and Sara began to speak, thinking he was finished, but he talked over her just as her first word came. “And, allow me to clarify at least, that I think since we cannot prepare the world, we must instead simply take a… measured approach to integration. There is far too much we don’t know about these outside forces.” There were many experiments of curious ethical nature to conduct. </p><p> </p><p>“And finally, Mr. Siegler.” </p><p> </p><p>“Given the circumstances, Sara, speaking on behalf of Speartip Security, and if you will excuse my bravado, the good people of the world: This new threat must be contained and quarantined. I do not just speak of whatever attacked Ludinghal, but rather this… epidemic as a whole of—”</p><p> </p><p>Lili butted in. “Epidemic? Is this event concerning a disease, Mr Siegler, or immigration?”</p><p> </p><p>“I find it hard to call this immigration, Ms. Gomez, as they’ve gone through none of the formal processes, and have quite literally just appeared in some peoples’ homes. This is an invasion, and people have a right to be worrie—”</p><p> </p><p>At the same time, toward the end of his retort, Lili started again. “You act like they weren’t just confused or, otherwise unsure of what was really happen—” </p><p> </p><p>And on top of both of them, Bruno interjected. “Speaking specifically, some of those specimens have been there for centuries, possibly invisible to—</p><p> </p><p>“Please, please, let’s settle down!” Sara rose her voice but only just enough to talk over the guests. “Mr. Siegler, can you complete your statement?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I can.” He cleared his throat. “People have a right to be worried about burglars, yes? Suddenly breaking into their homes? If that is the case, regardless of how confused those things are, or however unintentional these appearances were, I believe that most of the reasonable world values security above all else. That is my position.” </p><p> </p><p>Sara nodded slowly and then presented the first interrogative question: “Alright; so for all of you, why don’t you explain your positions in regard to the beings who show a… greater—”</p><p> </p><p>“Sapience.” Dr. Bruno added.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, who show the same level of intelligence as humans; what should be the process going forward? Doctor, let's begin with you here.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a… tricky subject, intelligence. Many tests have already been conducted and we can say that without a doubt many human-adjacent, the term we’ve been using, beings do exist.” He saw the “grey matter” with his own eyes. He was the one who made the first cuts.</p><p> </p><p>“They seem to comprise about thirty percent of the known population of anomalous entities.” He wiped his face with a small towel and continued. “Though even that number is a bit nebulous as we don’t have any exact population estimates…. But based on what data is available, that’s my current standing. I think we need to consider that sapience itself isn’t, or shouldn’t be the only factor here, but intent. Many of these beings have somewhat predictable behavior patterns…. And inclinations toward being violent or tricky. Some of them could do astronomical damage like—”</p><p> </p><p>“Isn’t it clear then?” Arno scoffed. “You talk about a measured response, Doctor, but everything you say just shows how dangerous these things are. What, will downtown paris be the site of your experiments? Not if people like me have anything to say about that.” There was a good deal of money to be made here, so naturally Arno was glad to play up the fears and reactionary tendencies of viewers.</p><p> </p><p>“The accusations are baseless!” Lilo yelled above the other two, flusteredly. “We cannot <em> presume </em> violent behaviors! As I said, many of them are confused; they’re quite literally coming out of centuries long comas in some cases! They just need to be <em> re-educated </em> on how to act and where the world is today.” Educated in productivity. Educated in where they were allowed to speak above a whisper. Educated in obedience. “Just imagine all of those books and movies about someone waking up far in the future; it’s just the symptoms of shock!”</p><p> </p><p>The three began to quibble and were almost unintelligible at that point. It continued for a solid thirty seconds before the mics were cut by news staff. Sara spoke in their place. “Clearly we still have a lot to work through to come to even a simple consensus. I have no doubt it’s been like that back home too.” She cleared her throat, and intently read from the tv prompt. “As a formality, we advise you not to approach any person or object whom you are not wholly certain of whether or not they are being influenced by any magical person or thing. And especially do not approach any anomalous being you do not explicitly know to be harmless.” </p><p> </p><p>There was a pause where Sara gathered her papers before she spoke again. “We’ll be back after this commercial break; stay tuned later tonight for coverage on the <em> firestorms </em> that are ravaging north-eastern Africa and the responses local governments and intervening personnel from the United Nations made in the wake of the devastation. And after that, a brief report of a sudden series of explosions that led to the sinking of a certain naval vessel belonging to the United States off the coast of Florida.” </p><p> </p><p>Sara was obscured then by the animated logo which played whenever the news station went to break:</p><p> </p><p>A white line splits a blue overlay at an angle, and the white line then is dragged horizontally and smoothly across the screen, revealing a map of Europe as the station fanfare plays. Text is displayed in a separate white bar that forms to the left of the dragging one.</p><p><br/>
<em> “Euro International News; Honest Facts, Honest Voices, Honest Hearts.” </em>  </p><p> </p>
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<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1it0q_qqFodapwy_8eFuCczmVH2xx3eK4kU_2htQcqgA/edit?usp=sharing"> <strong>SHE LAY ADRIFT, OAR-LESS;</strong> </a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1it0q_qqFodapwy_8eFuCczmVH2xx3eK4kU_2htQcqgA/edit?usp=sharing"> <strong>YET YOU THINK THIS ROCK ANY DIFFERENT;</strong> </a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1it0q_qqFodapwy_8eFuCczmVH2xx3eK4kU_2htQcqgA/edit?usp=sharing">
    <b>YOUR ARK: YOUR TOMB;</b>
  </a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1it0q_qqFodapwy_8eFuCczmVH2xx3eK4kU_2htQcqgA/edit?usp=sharing"> <strong>FLUNG THROUGH VOID, DROWNED IN DARKNESS</strong> </a>
</p><p> </p>
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<hr/><p> </p><p>A low hum; radio static. It does not echo, but it stirs the quiet wooden room it sits within. A heavy wind billows over the highland hills; chimes jingle and clatter, hanging herbs and charms shuffle and shimmy, rustling. The cabin creaks. The radio dial turns, but no hand guides it. Static, then more static, but louder and less empty. Crossed signals, crossed fates, cross eyes on the radio, tired of adjusting. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Just as Linberg is coming—OVER THE HILL! He overtakes Ludolf! In the final stre—” </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> “I really didn’t like the third act, I think that’s where it strugg </em> — <em> ” </em></p><p> </p><p><em> “Reports continue to baffle our investigative teams on the </em> — <em> ” </em></p><p> </p><p><em> “Cause I’m Mr Bright </em> — <em> !” </em></p><p> </p><p>“Mmhm?” A gravelly voice from the darkest corner of the cabin speaks. “Go back.”</p><p> </p><p>The intense eyes on the radio, not shared by the gravelly voiced man, raise their brows and look curiously. </p><p> </p><p><em> “ </em> — <em> attack on such an unsuspecting town. The methods are just as unclear as the possible motives behind the incident. News outlets across the world are baffled by what I can only call… lies, just straight up lies from Germany’s government officials and associated agencies involved at Ludinghal. Now, listeners, you know me, I never take well to that crockpottery business some loons cling to. I’m no conspiracy theorist, but this has just been.... So piss-poorly handled....” </em></p><p> </p><p>The man with intense eyes grumbles. “This again? You know we’re in no place to get mixed up in that sorry affair.”</p><p> </p><p>The gravelly voice, with a sandpapery cough, replies. “It… Ach… Irks me. Foolish men with more foolish ideas, meddling in things they were never qualified to o’er see.” A heavy rasping fit of coughs follows. “But… where we cannot, others might. We must watch. Listen…. Pray.”</p><p> </p><p>The man of intense eyes and the man of gravelled voice both look back to the radio; the host had recuperated and began again.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Listeners, allow me to be frank. I have no doubt in my mind that what happened was partly because we allow these psychos! These… witches…. Bloody hell, are we really calling them this? Yeah sure maybe every year or so we’d get a neat story about people callin’ ‘emselves witches, and we’d all have a giggle or maybe they were legit and it was kinda interesting. But this, this folks… just who thinks any o’ this is right? Now, for my long time listeners, you know me; I’m a skeptic, and I try to be impartial. Looking at Ludinghal though, what’s left of the damn place at least, I ain’t just a skeptic anymore, I’m belligerent! I’m up in arms! Clearly something’s not right with the world, and we, the decent minded and normal folk, gotta get together and, well, straighten things out! If it means these witches, if they caused this, if they know what's going on; if they have to take a few blows to get talking, well tough shite. The families at Ludinghal suffered more than maybe any of us ever could. And I don’t say that lightly…. Just, lets just cut it, just cut to commercial. I apologize listeners; I lost my temper there… We’ll be back after some words from our sponsors.”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The host's tone was angry at first as his diatribe went on, but it deflated the more he realized what he was saying. In the end, his voice deflated, and he signed off defeatedly.</p><p> </p><p>The dial flicks off; the two men had no desire to listen to the radio anymore. They both had heard enough sentiments similar to that over the past few months; calls to violence against the arcane from prole and politician alike.</p><p> </p><p>The gravelly voiced man grumbles and hisses unnaturally. “Truly, truly foolish. They’ll take to the streets blindly with guns and clubs sooner than they’d open their damnable eyes.” He is angry, but stoic; his body remains calmly seated in the shadows. </p><p> </p><p>“Against their best hope to fight whatever wiped out that poor town out no less.” The intense eyed man holds his forehead tightly. “We never should have let our order die like it did. We were foolish to believe that mankind's only threat lay with itself; that we’d… won.” </p><p> </p><p>“But it was thinking like that which led us to ruin. You act as though there was ever a victory to be had…. You are old, you hunted well, but I saw it all; I know more than you ever could on the nature of our struggle. The order was dying long before the Great War, and what could have been done is irrelevant now.” He too holds his face glumly. “True victory was waking up in the morning and finding the balance was kept; man and magic, woven together….”</p><p> </p><p>The man of intense gazes stands up and throws one arm to the right in an explicative motion. “And what have we earned for it now? Persecution! So many sorcerers have given everything in service to mankind, and now we are threatened with being classified as inhuman? As wicked? Murderers!?” His rising tone agitates the tranquility of his home, and his arms fall to his side. “It affects me so little, you, so little; all of this. But the witches far flung across the world; are we to—?”</p><p> </p><p>“You overstep yourself, Undertaker. Just moments ago you spoke of how Ludinghal was none of our business.” The man of grating voice rises and approaches; he is hunched, as always, spiny-backed, and dreary eyed. He avoids the sunlight peeking through the cabin windows carefully. “And now you talk of witches across the world? I know you have grown restless in these past few years, and that your heart is as kind as ever, but truly, I hope you have not considered abandoning what little remains of the order…. As far as we know, you and I, the hall: That is all which remains.” His ghoulish gaze turns dour and to the floor. “Just… embers, ashes…. Ne’er burn brightly again.”</p><p> </p><p>“No! I have sworn to solemn oaths my friend… I could not leave you; would not leave you unless you ordered it.” His intense eyes look to ground, hiding his nervous face; his words are sincere though. </p><p> </p><p>“Solitude is no punishment to me; you know this. Though I appreciate your company…. My only concern lay in memory. Say you do leave: You search for what could have caused this; you embark on your first Hunt in ages…. And you perish.” He shakes his head. “You know I cannot leave, not without losing myself. With you, dear friend, the fire lives on.”</p><p> </p><p>The intense eyed man shrinks back to his creaky wooden chair, sighing lengthily. “Just as embers. Ashes. As you said. Never to burn again.”</p><p> </p><p>The stoney throated man scratches at their long dead, but still remaining, white hair. “I suppose even I can slip into melancholic thinking…. Folly to think that the most devout of monks can persist forever, without indulging their humanity.” He regards his strands of snowy and grey locks with a hopeful tone. “One day, I know, the Balefire shall be lit again.” </p><p> </p><p>“But when?” </p><p> </p><p>Both stare into one another's eyes. There is silence. Another wind jingles the chimes outside and howls through the valley, over the loch and up back to the sky. There is contemplation in the air, but neither are quick to answer, especially the gravelly voiced man. </p><p> </p><p>Eventually, he finds his answer: “Remember, as we have always said: All that is required of a man for him to defeat evil is for him to stand up, and fight.” His rough tone softens. “Desperate times shall awaken desperate people; that is where our hopes must lay.”</p><p> </p><p>“But the people we need, my people, witches, warlocks…. We have been dying out for more than a century. And now we may face the force of whole nations, with technology and might never before seen, blind in their self serving wisdom…!” His eyes fall to his lap, and they tense with grief. “We shall be eradicated!”</p><p> </p><p>“Only if we give up now, before the chance can be given.” His knuckles, as rocky and jagged as his vocal chords, roll and crack from him making a fist. “But you are right to fear for your kind…. So go. Do not wander far, but go where your magic leads you. Learn of what the people do with the lies they have been told…. And if you can, if you must, bring here safely those who follow the old ways. Bring them home.” </p><p> </p><p>The man with an intense stare looks up to his dear friend with surprise. “I will, I promise. So long as you allow it....” Slowly, he turns to look out of the window across from him, out over the loch. “If I can find one, just one promising witch…. Perhaps they, the new blood…. Perhaps they hold the strength to rekindle our flame.”</p><p> </p>
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<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/13gPaLlMj0hsc3-XvAZBjspmHvyTOt_NQTv8zSFw4wN8/edit?usp=sharing">A SIMILAR THREAD HAS BEEN PLUCKED BEFORE;</a> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/13gPaLlMj0hsc3-XvAZBjspmHvyTOt_NQTv8zSFw4wN8/edit?usp=sharing">IT'S NOTE RANG DOUR, JUST AS THIS;</a> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/13gPaLlMj0hsc3-XvAZBjspmHvyTOt_NQTv8zSFw4wN8/edit?usp=sharing">I PROMISE YOU, I WARN YOU;</a> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/13gPaLlMj0hsc3-XvAZBjspmHvyTOt_NQTv8zSFw4wN8/edit?usp=sharing">THIS SYMPHONY HOLDS NO JUBILANT FINALE</a> </strong>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Fear and Loathing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello everyone! Sorry for almost being "late" with this chapter! I know I really could just write this at whatever pace I felt like, and I usually do, but I definitely wanted to do more. The problem was I'm essential personnel, so amid this pandemic work has been pretty hellish, leaving me with less time to write and less focus than I would want. Fear not! I'm def not abandoning or pausing this project in any way. I should still be able to hold to a 'every other week' schedule should it stay this stressful/bad. </p><p>Regarding this chapter: I felt some character interaction focus in the wake of the prelude battle attack was necessary/good to help keep the pace! Next chapter we'll be diving into a certain Sanctum, and that's where the namesake of this series will start to properly reveal itself! So look forward to chapter eight for more plot heavy info! </p><p>Finally, I decided I should make a tumblr for all my AO3/fanfic focused stuff. The link is just below! Shoot me a follow if you want updates or wanna chat with me/see updates on how things are going/my creative interests; asks are open!</p><p>https://karmotrinedreams91.tumblr.com/</p><p>Your comments give me life! I'd love to hear from you guys!</p><p>Also, 100K WORD HYPE!</p><p>Without any more preamble, enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>With a few clicks, taps, and deep breathing exercises, the camera-light fixed on the upper post part of the laptop monitor came to life; Constanze was recording a sort of video journal. She had done so in the past, albeit sparingly. </p><p> </p><p>Usually, these were quite enjoyable for her, as they were borne of a mind, buzzing and filled to the brim with ideas for her next magically manufactured machine, and she just needed to ramble on and let her thoughts flow. Less often though, they were a way for her to record her personal struggles, emotionally, physically; the academy therapist (which was unofficially Chariot, and officially a new professor who had started just last year) suggested she give it a try. </p><p> </p><p>This recording was a mix of the two aforementioned cases; her psyche was being crushed by the weight of the events unfolding, more so than most even, but the urgency of the crisis had motivated her to be quite productive these past forty eight hours:</p><p> </p><p>“Testing… testing.” Her speaking gauged the recordings quality as much as it tested her own voice, ensuring she was up to talking at length. She wasn’t visible to the camera yet, and sounded as though she was off to the left of the screen.</p><p> </p><p> A few more checks saw all levels as clear; she was alone, mostly at least. Sucy was in the far back corner by her own set up, dissecting two corpses recovered from the most recent attack: One of a Dire Hyena, and another of a Harpy. She was wearing earmuffs, for Constanze’s sake. Constanze would likely tell Sucy about the contents later, but that extra bit of privacy helped her work past her selective mutism. </p><p> </p><p>Everything else was green and ready to go; no turning back now. “Right.” She cleared her throat, perhaps excessively, done just to buy a few more moments of thought, “It’s… December fifteenth, eight hundred hours, and I’m at my lab.” Her tone was tired, heavy and laden with too many emotions to really pick any particular one out. “And we’re still stuck in a giant dome….”</p><p> </p><p>The dome covered every route and escape possible: It extended to a full bubble underneath the academy, so tunnelling out was impossible. Its unique properties caused magic and even radio waves to fizzle and die out when passing through the barrier. Spells became barely effective, or their effects were so warped as to be hardly attributable to the original incants. Projections and thought sending, done through intricate and powerful rituals, failed to work either. Portals could be opened, but they usually just ended up spitting escapees out in the third floor dormitories, specifically, Yellow Team’s room. Of all the dome’s properties, that was the strangest. Worst of all, the barrier wasn’t actually a physical one; any of the witches could walk through it any time, but they would only find themselves on the exact opposite side of the dome, approaching from their original direction and at the same orientation. It was an endlessly looping campus. </p><p> </p><p>“That’s day two of being trapped…. Well, this is the start of day two. Last night I heard they only just finished burying the bodies. The human ones, at least.” Constanze inhaled sharply, counting the death toll: “Eighteen dead Antiquarians… Three dead professors, Barius, Magdeline, and Tetra. We’re looking at twenty one fatal casualties with this incident. Predominant causes of death: Blood-loss and or breaking of spinal cord, usually at the neck.” It would never get easier to log down that kind of information, Constanze surmised.  </p><p> </p><p>She had already committed herself to a grim fate in wanting to pursue the monsters that killed her family, but now she was deprived of that even and was faced with an even worse fate; being wholly eradicated while trapped in a magical dome, unsure if they would ever be found or even remembered. Constanze couldn’t tell why, but she was handling it very well, outwardly at least. </p><p> </p><p>She had a few guesses as to why: Perhaps she’d cried all she could the days prior, and so has just numbed her brain, temporarily or otherwise, to further trauma. She also could be just uniquely adept at handling her emotions in this kind of crisis; it wasn’t like she had past history of these events to reference. Or she may be so angry at the death of her family now as to be incapable of sadness or panic. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze didn’t like it, but her thoughts had been predominantly spiralling around extremely grizzly topics: What she would do when she found those men, what tool she would use to kill them, so on and so forth. This recorded journal entry, she hoped, was a way of redirecting her thoughts towards something less disquieting; above all else, Constanze did not want to lose her logic to her rage.</p><p> </p><p>“Then there’s the wounded.” She wasn’t sure if she wanted to go through the whole process of detailing the damages, but the importance of leaving behind verifiable evidence was too much to let her emotions win out. “Thirty Antiquarians, Ibrahim included. Last I heard, he had a broken right arm and cracked ribs, lacerations, though that could be an exaggeration…. Most of his agents… they’re agents right? Oh whatever,” Constanze briefly broke from her clinical addressing, but quickly refocused. “In short, everyone's suffering very similar wounds. Deep lacerations, bruises, maybe a broken bone or two; nothing that can't be treated with magic. Not perfectly of course, but it’s what we have.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze then entered the frame proper, and despite the risk of seeming insane, she was wearing her academy uniform. Most of the student body had resigned to the comfiest clothes possible, praying this storm of ill fortune would blow over, or otherwise just wore casual day-time clothing. Constanze though had come to feel an uncanny comfort in wearing this particular outfit; it reminded her of quieter times. Her hair was done just as it had always been during normal school-year proceedings as well: a shortcut style maintained only by the large bow holding her long hair back at the nape of her neck. </p><p> </p><p>Above all though, her expression was angry, but only visible as a passing frustration in comparison to the boiling oceans of magma like rage that bubbled beneath her skin. “Diana and Akko are fine; just fine. Their wounds weren’t deep, at least. Despite advised bed rest, Diana’s active, tending to the wounded mostly…. I can’t say I’d do anything different.” Constanze idly pulled over a stool and sat down  in front of the laptop. Her eyes weren’t focused on the camera though, but instead on a few calibrations and equations she was running through various programs on her computer. </p><p> </p><p>“Amanda’s ok too, surprisingly. Lost enough blood to be out for nearly twenty four hours, but she came too sometime after midnight. I don’t know the specifics of anyone else;” She paused, clearing her throat. “I mean, besides Sucy. But she’s right there.” Constanze reoriented the laptop to get a better look at Sucy while she worked. </p><p> </p><p>It was a bloody business off in her corner of the lab, but Sucy felt it both pertinent to test for arcane influences, and not unreasonable to satisfy her curiosity on the biology of such creatures; perhaps their bodies possessed useful reagents. She seemed wholly unharmed, in part because of her robes that covered almost her whole form, and otherwise due to her untroubled and easy movements. </p><p> </p><p>“I guess she’s alright. She wouldn’t lie to us if she wasn’t…. I know that.” The laptop was set back down to just have Constanze in view, who was still staring longingly at Sucy in the corner, with pensive lips holding back questions she wanted to ask, but held off for now. She then turned back and focused on the recording, having exhausted her informational well on the clerical state of affairs; time to discuss her own works:</p><p> </p><p>An awkward pause allowed Constanze to fully gather her thoughts. “I’ve… been working on a few things. Things that might just get us out of here. I mean, that’s wholly unlikely, looking at the percentages…. Reason tells me I should treat these journal entries like my last will, but I’m done sulking. I just need to stay angry. It will keep me focused. It always has when I needed to most.” Her gaze briefly drifted down and to the side where her workbench lay. </p><p> </p><p>“Two projects show actual promise. The last three ideas didn’t make it past the drawing board. No idea why I even humored the giant robot solution,” She of course knew <em> exactly </em> why she humored the giant robot solution. “But what I’m left with at least seems wholly feasible to construct. Going to have to gut a good deal of the AV and LNN club electronics, but it’s not like they’ll be missed if we don’t get out of here anyway.” Swivelling on her stool Constanze brought the laptop with her, showing off her designs. </p><p> </p><p>“Option one: The Entrapment Excavator, Mark One,” The first of the two was a drill made to be manned by a three person crew: One on either side to hold it steady, represented by stick figure Amanda and Jasminka, and one at the back properly operating the drill controls, represented by a well drawn and highly detailed rendition of Constanze with a hardhat and welders mask. A few doodles scantily dotted the sides of the blueprint, but when focusing more intently on the actual notes, it was clear Constanze had been considering almost any problem she could face: She knew what materials could be substituted, compromising longevity for short term stability, and the exteriors were wholly utilitarian; this thing only needed to work once.</p><p> </p><p>For that particular piece, the main source of frustration came in determining the drill bit she would need, both in terms of an optimal shape and the actual material it would be made out of. The dome allowed anything magical to pass through, but it was always distorted and heavily warped, and anything physical simply ended up going through the loop. The answer was both clear and vague then: Constanze needed a metal or ore like substance filled to the brim with magic, the would be <em> Magical Diamond </em>, a term Constanze had double-underlined on her paper alongside a list of various materials she had theorized prior. </p><p> </p><p>“And option two—”</p><p> </p><p>“Constanze.” Sucy interrupted. Her earmuffs were still on, and she opted to poke Constanze just to make sure her presence was known. </p><p> </p><p> Constanze spasmed slightly in her seat, sighing with relief as any do after a jump scare. “Mein gott…. Sucy you scared me.” Constanze turned about, hitting a button on her laptop that brought the recording to pause. “And, please tell me you didn’t just poke me with your bloody gloves….”</p><p> </p><p>Upon inspection, Sucy at least had the decency to disrobe herself of the butchers gown, surgical mask, and rubber gloves she was using prior; she was pristinely clean in fact. “Sorry.” Sucy removed her ear muffs, continuing, “Wanted to let you know I’m done for now. Figured out what I needed to.” She sniffled, drooping over into a tired hunch. “<em> Glegh </em>…. And I just really need to get some food. I skipped dinner last night and I think these all-nighters I’m pulling is getting me sick. Hopefully Jasminka has soup ready to go.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze hopped down from her stool and approached Sucy with more concern than was likely warranted. Her eyes were a bit wide and her voice was genuinely worry-filled. “Do you want me to… set up… a heater? I can get you blankets; coffee? I brewed some already actually. Let me go—” She started slow and careful with her words, as she usually did when speaking to others, but then she started speaking quicker and quicker. </p><p> </p><p>At the end of the statement, Sucy brought a hand to rest on Constanze’s left shoulder, stopping her from running off. “No, no. It’s fine, really…. You alright?” Sucy raised the brow of her one, visible, half closed eye. “You’ve been trying to cater a lot to me since yesterday.”</p><p> </p><p>“Y-Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” As fine as either of them could be given the circumstances of course. “I just heard you were involved in the attack and I… wanted to…” Constanze’s voice slowly began to return to its hesitant and measured pace. “Make sure… you were ok. Not good to be sick around the wounded.” She turned and brought her right arm across her chest to rest on Sucy’s outreaching hand upon her own shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>“I appreciate it, but you know I’m ok, right?” Sucy wasn’t about to let it go of course; she knew Constanze too well to know that something was up. </p><p> </p><p>“I do now. Yes.” Constanze was using less words now too, but that concern never left her voice no matter how hard she tried to seem normal. “On edge. Worried you’ll have to fight.” The obvious insulation she left out in her nervously muted speech was ‘again.’ </p><p> </p><p>Sucy exhaled long and slowly through her nose, thinking back to the talk they had earlier. It was perfunctory, and conveyed all that needed to be known from a business standpoint, but left out so very many details on the side of their friendship. “I think I know where this is going. Why don’t we sit down.” Sucy nudged closer to Constanze, looking down at her friend with a weary stare, but one that never tired of Constanze. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze’s clammy hands came together in an uneven lace as she nodded in anxiously eager agreement. “Yes, please. I wanted to ask some questions.” The way the statement was purported in her semi-monotone told Sucy all she needed to know about Constanzes’ concerns.</p><p> </p><p>The two took a seat, with Constanze pulling up the stool she was sitting on before and Sucy casually willing a large toadstool mushroom to sprout from the concrete floor and serve as a cushioned chair. They both then leaned forward slightly, leaving themselves just a few inches from each other’s face, and Sucy made it a point to delicately wrap her right hand around Constanzes’ while doing a slow, circular, rubbing motion.</p><p> </p><p>Sucy began. “Let’s talk then. I won’t keep anything from you.” </p><p> </p><p>“I won’t.” Constanze flusteredly squeezed her clamped hands, correcting herself. “I mean, I won’t keep anything.” She never did get around to talking to Sucy about Ludinghal.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh? About what?” Sucy eased her own grip in response to Constanze's tightening.</p><p> </p><p>“I had plans. They don’t matter right now. But they will.” Constanze looked Sucy in the eye, and the two held each other’s gaze from then on. “If we live.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think we will.” Sucy didn’t smile, but her words conveyed a sense of hope that an expression couldn’t. “Don’t ask why, because really, I don’t want to think about that too much. You know me; I live in the now…. I’ll worry about dying later, when it’s happening.” As always, she was morbid, but endearingly so. It was a strange comfort.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze grunted, looking for the words to begin her explanation of her burning desire for revenge. Eventually she capitulated as her humming became louder, leaving her with a heavy sigh, and a timid voice. “You… first?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure.” Sucy leaned slightly back on her toad-stool, maintaining her eye and hand contact. “I mean, you know everything about the Antiquarians that I do, really. All that’s left is why I’m even with them.” Sucy quirked her head and blew up her right cheek in hesitant thought. “Mind if I gloss over some details? It’s just… hard to talk about.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze was immediately wide eyed and leaning forward, having stood right up upon hearing Sucy refer to some sort of event as ‘hard to talk about.’ Sucy rolled her eyes, though she meant no ill-will with it; she just hoped to avoid this kind of reaction. “You got hurt? Did they force you? If you needed to cover something up you could have—”</p><p> </p><p>“Constanze.” Sucy’s voice was raised just enough to snap Constanze out of her rant, but all that left Sucy with was the sight of her friend with ever so slightly shaking legs and arms, and a gaze that spoke volumes on how much fear Constanze still had the capacity for, in lieu of crisis after crisis.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze could only grunt in the affirmative to confirm she was listening.</p><p> </p><p>“Breathe.” Sucy inhaled and then exhaled slowly, and soon, Constanze was following suit. A few minutes passed; no words were spoken, they weren’t needed now. The only times their gazes parted then was when they were forced to blink. </p><p> </p><p>Eventually, Constanze sat herself back down, calmed her trembling body, and steadied her voice. “Ok…. I’m ok. Can we… still talk?” Sucy’s nodding brought Constanze to rejoin their hands.</p><p> </p><p>“To steal a line from O’Neill, I fu—” A distant clanking noise interrupted Sucy, and the sight of two Stanbots who had clumsily run into one another, and were now even more clumsily trying to pick themselves up, gave away the source. Sucy groaned, rolling her eyes. “I messed up. Big time. I went into the Sanctum of The Nine; basically a secret archive with tomes and scrolls dating all the way back before The Nine Olde Witches were around. It’s usually locked down tight, but I got in with some scheming; got a bit too adventurous, and got burned for it, literally.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze shifted almost constantly as Sucy explained herself. It grew more difficult to hold back her words and concerns as time went on; she knew she’d feel better once all the cards were out on the table, she just had to endure the dealing. </p><p> </p><p>“Tried to summon something I really shouldn’t have. And I mean <em> really </em> shouldn’t have. I got lucky and Lukic came to help, but I wasn’t about to get off without a punishment for that. And I knew it wouldn’t be like any of the usual chores Akko and I get stuck with.” Sucy bristled, shaking once just from thinking about the ordeal. “And, you know, the Antiquarians help contain magical phenomena; they keep the <em> masquerade </em> going, as they call it. They can’t have witches running around with extremely dangerous magic unsupervised; at least that’s what they believe.”</p><p> </p><p>“But you’re….” Constanze lapsed briefly, breaking her self imposed silence, but Sucy understood well enough already. </p><p> </p><p>“I know. I’m not like Croix, or some other crazy person trying to raise hell for the sake of it. You know me. I’m reasonable. I’m careful…. But I’m just too curious for my own good, I guess.” Sucy finally broke eye contact with Constanze, looking off and away, but her expression did not change; it was consistently dour. “I still hate it. The idea of <em> evil </em> magic.” Sucy squinted angrily for just a moment on uttering the word ‘evil.’ “But I guess after everything we’ve been through, especially now, we can’t deny that some witches just can’t be trusted with the power they have…. So yeah, I was forced to join them.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze was intent to not interrupt or let her panic take hold again, but her body and mind could only take so much. In order to keep going steadily, she had to throw herself into Sucy, whose arms reflexively formed into an awkward hug. Her only indication to keep going was a heavy set of nods into Sucy’s chest. </p><p> </p><p>Sucy grunted and shifted uncomfortably for a few moments before she resigned herself to closing her eyes and looking up to the dim ceiling lamps. “I got lucky though. Again. I don’t like to say it, but I’ve been way too lucky for one lifetime.” She actually cracked a half smile. “Leaving the orphanage at fourteen… surviving to fifteen, then sixteen, all alone…. Making it across the world all the way to England. Getting into Luna Nova just by dropping in; not getting sent packing for almost getting those two goofballs eaten by a Cockatrice…. The Hologarium Incident, Croix, the pranks, accidents…. That riot we tried to start.” Sucy chuckled weakly, such that her mirth drew away from her like cigar smoke, leaving her voice as tender as could be. “And meeting you.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze looked up with barely formed tears in her eyes and an expression that fought over whether it should be a frown or a smile. She could only grunt in questioning, but of course Sucy had grown to know Constanzes’ cues enough to tell even the most similar noises a part in meaning. </p><p> </p><p>“You get me is all. You listen. You talk to me. We’re good together.” Sucy peaked her one visible eye open and turned her head up just enough to look at Constanze. “You’re my friend. My <em> best </em> friend. I’d say I’m lucky I found anyone I’m glad to call that.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze felt her tears recede, but instead of being left with just joy in being in the company of her equally <em> best </em> friend, she was left <em> wanting </em> of all things. Scenarios overlapped and played out in her head in a brief flurry of emotion that left Constanze stunned as she processed the potential outcomes:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “We could be more.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I’m just glad to be holding you. I wish we did that more.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Could I kiss you?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> “I love you </em> — <em> ” </em></p><p> </p><p>“Constanze?” Sucy’s smile had faded, replaced now by a slight bit of confusion to her usual resting-frown. “You ok?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmm!” Constanze grunted suddenly, blinked twice, and then nodded. “Yeah.” Constanze internally kicked herself for her own romantic cowardice; she cursed her social anxiety to hell and back. Even with the person who she could be with without fear of neither judgement nor pressure, Constanze still couldn’t muster the assuredness to make <em> all </em> of her feelings known. </p><p> </p><p>Sucy didn’t respond in full to the hiccup in their conversation, but she took a few moments to consider Constanze’s reaction. They played like a reel in her mind, and while she had ideas, some accurate, some not, Sucy had been suspecting Constanze of harboring <em> certain </em> feelings for a while now. It wasn’t an issue of reciprocation that had Sucy holding her tongue, but rather timing, and Sucy’s own concern for Constanze. Trapped as they were, declarations of love could be saved for final moments, if it came to that, or were otherwise best saved for when Constanze was confident and ready enough for such a leap forward.  </p><p> </p><p>Leaving that topic behind for now, Sucy nodded understandingly and continued her explanation. “I was saying I was lucky with the Antiquarians; that’s because Ibrahim really is the best Cabalist I could have gotten stuck with.” When Constanze turned her head in slight confusion, Sucy clarified. “He’s the best boss I could ask for, really. Sorry. Getting used to the titles and all.” </p><p> </p><p>“Why’s that?” Constanze eased into a less oppressive hug around Sucy, which now left the two sort of snuggling up on the large mushroom-chair, though neither would ever use such a <em> scandalous </em> word like ‘snuggling’ to describe their current positioning. Both of them certainly preferred their seating now at least. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, most of the witches who get forced to join like I did end up getting stuck with some of the worst assignments; so I’ve heard…. Black Lambs. That’s what they call us unofficially. The actual rank I got labeled with is <em> Terminus </em> . They don’t expect me, us, to live.” Sucy was scowling at the very concept, just barely able to keep her cool tone. “We’re <em> dangerous </em> and <em> unreliable </em> , they say. All because we didn’t have the privilege of learning this so-called <em> evil </em> magic from one of their own Lorekeepers. People like me are just found at the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the <em> wrong </em> book.” Were she a more crass woman, Sucy would’ve spat to the floor in disgust.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze looked down at her own curled form and spoke. “But… Ibrahim…. He?” The politics of the Antiquarians was beyond her; all she cared for was Sucy’s safety, and the notion of being expendable was not comforting at all. </p><p> </p><p>“He doesn’t follow that tradition. Call the Antiquarians what you will, but <em> cohesive </em> is not a word I’d describe them with. Each coven has its own practices, but they all stick to the same general goals. It’s just that Ibrahim is a particularly outspoken leader in the organization. He’s doing what he can to change how the organization at large handles more curious or ambitious witches like myself. He’d see the Terminus rank struck from our practices. It’s a bit of an uphill battle though, from what he told me,” and then shrugged, “So I won’t hold my breath.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sucy.” Constanze drew close, and despite her tone conveying Sucy’s name as a statement, it was certainly a question. Sucy raised a brow and showed her approval in Constanze’s query with a lazy open palmed gesture. “I’m scared for you. I want you… to be the witch you always wanted to be; the one you always were…. The person you always were.” Constanze felt her own rage surfacing; the kind she felt when having to consider what career she would pursue in the face of  graduation; her gentle grip grew tight, her knuckles straining. </p><p> </p><p>The picking and choosing of what parts people were allowed to carry in life, and what parts they had to hide, it stung like wasps behind Constanzes’ eyes. She couldn’t imagine, would not imagine, a life in which her friend whom she loved was forced to be something she was not; a wonderfully weird and macabre witch. All of that rising anger was soothed however by Sucy’s coldly spoken, but comforting sentiment: </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll never not be the witch I want to be. I’ll always be Sucy Manbavaran… the one you met and—” Fell in love with? No, it still wasn’t proper to say. “Came to trust the most. The only other person you let stay in your lab like I do…. People like me don’t change.” Sucy didn’t need to force a smile; it came more naturally than her penchant for fungal delights. “Count on it.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze found herself smiling uncontrollably and covered her face in a slight bout of embarrassment as a result. “I won’t forget that…. I won’t change either.” A promise implied through genuinely mirthful stares between some of Luna Nova’s most bitter students was worth the world and more; no more need be said of their fears for one another, and silence graced the room for a minute or so.</p><p> </p><p>At the end of it though, Constanze did have words regarding the others. “Akko? Lotte?” Still lacking for the full breadth of her confidence, Constanze was restricted by her mutism for now. </p><p> </p><p>“Hm? Oh.” Sucy sat up, “I told them both. Lotte…. It’s complicated with her, but we’re on alright terms again. Akko was…. Akko.” and shrugged. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze grunted understandably whilst standing; she could only imagine Akko made some foolish comment about how <em> “cool it is! You’re a secret agent witch!? Like a really secret one!? Ooooh! You’ll be able to travel around the world for all sorts of exciting things!! If I knew you could even be one of those, maybe I wouldn’t have gone down the performing arts route…. Imagine it… secret witch Akko on the case!” </em>The voice Constanze’s mind constructed for Akko became far too loud and likely accurate to what was actually said for her to continue thinking of it. “She cares.” Constanze reassured.</p><p> </p><p>“She does, yeah; in her own hyper-active way. I guess she still hasn’t lost that youthful invincibility she had when she got here.” Sucy rolled her shoulders and shrank the mushroom chair down to a pickable size; she of course then pocketed it. “Is it weird?”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze sniffled, her overwhelming flood of emotions from just a minute ago were being stemmed bit by bit. “What is?”</p><p> </p><p>“How little things seem to change. I said people like me don’t change. I always have. Maybe it’s more than that; like certain qualities just never leave certain people….” While it was a nice sentiment and was certainly thought provoking, Sucy had neither the stomach for such wanton sentimentality or for more thinking than was required right now; it was morning, and she was already more tired than she was last night. “Eh. Whatever. Constanze.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze had started back to her workbenches while Sucy was thinking, and paused to turn her head at being addressed. “Hmm?” She found Sucy facing her with a knowing stare and cleared her throat, realizing what she had forgotten to speak of. “Ah… right.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t mean to keep you from your work, but you mentioned you had plans. I know you said they didn’t matter for now, but I think I already know what you’re thinking. It’s about your folks, right?”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze regarded her workbench, then the ground, and then Sucy once more with a nod. Sucy returned with a head shake in the negative. “You won’t be able to do it alone.”</p><p> </p><p>“Amanda.” Constanze spoke suddenly and hurriedly. “Amanda is with me.” </p><p> </p><p>“That’s great and all, but she’s not the one man army that she claims to be. She’s got a long way to go as a fighter, and so do you. If both of you don’t get serious… well.” Sucy turned around and began to walk away slowly, deciding not to finish the statement. “I’ll help in any way I can; Ibrahim is no doubt sympathetic to your anger…. I probably shouldn’t speak for him, but he knows what it’s like to lose family to a tragedy like that.” Sucy glanced to her right then, side eyeing Constanze. “Even then, with a whole coven of Antiquarians at your back, it’s going to come down to you and Amanda, I think.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you…. Truly.” Constanze stepped forward slightly, hands clasped at her chest. “But how do you… why?” Words failed her as her confusion over Sucys’ predictions set in. </p><p> </p><p>“Has my intuition ever been <em> that </em> wrong?” Constanze had to concede that point with a shrug and slight stretching of her arms. “Otherwise, I don’t know. It just makes sense that if you two are going to start something, knowing both of you, it’s going to come down to the two of you finishing it.” Sucy paused, bringing a finger to her chin. “I mean, I guess you didn’t start the attacks but…. Bah.” She dismissed herself with a resigned hand waving motion. “You know what I mean.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze stepped closer again, her lips curled inward. “You’re not worried?” Constanze had been terribly fraught, and admittedly, was still terribly fraught with anxiety over Sucy’s safety now that she was an Antiquarian; why did Sucy now seem to show it? </p><p> </p><p>“I am, but what else would you do in a situation like this? You’re smart, Constanze; if there was another road to go down you’d have probably taken it already.” Sucy reached the ejectable chair that led back up toward the Green Team dormitory and sat down. She mumbled something unhearable, complaining about how she could never get used to the G-force the thing applied, and then called out with finality. “If you have to do it this way, just remember what you told me!” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I won’t change either. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Constanze considered the promise; she was absolutely sincere in making it, but she wasn’t fully sure how it could be in jeopardy. Only time could tell. With the thought tucked away in the back of her mind, Constanze gave a wave to Sucy. “I will!” She managed to shout. </p><p> </p><p>Sucy closed her eyes, breathing in deep as she prepared to hit the button to start that infernal rocket-chair. <em> “I just hope you get what you need out of this.” </em> The words did not reach Constanze, in part due to the sudden whooshing and roller-coaster like clacking of the chair being shot up and out of the lab, and otherwise because Sucy had only whispered it to herself. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze was alone then, and despite having always favored solitude, when it was Sucy leaving her, things felt different. She paced briefly in a small circle before her mind inevitably wandered back toward the way Sucy talked to her; the words she said, the way they stared at one another. Her heart was fluttering through a storm of worry and doubt, it was beating like marching drums; all she could think to do in that moment was lay her soul to bear and record it all.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze ran back to her laptop with a surprising bit of haste, nearly smashed the unpause button, and opened wide the floodgates that filtered her hopelessly romantic thoughts. <em> “Oh mein gott, oh mein gott!! Sie ist perfekter als ich mir je hätte vorstellen können! Sie war so innig, so fürsorglich! Ahh! Sucy, meine Königin der fragwürdigen Chemikalien! Ich liebe dich!" </em></p><p>Constanze was near fainting, and appeared to be swooning and spinning from the camera’s position. Her sentiments, while certainly absurd to proclaim at a time like this, were building to burst ever since the second year at Luna Nova; this was the result of four years of almost wholly unspoken and unattended to sapphic love.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze was left gasping for air, laughing wearily, and wiping her face with an otherwise greasy rag. Stanbots who were previously busying themselves with general tasks stopped to watch their creator in her lovestruck release. Some logiced it out to be a proper time to begin clapping, and slowly, it brought Constanze down from her giggling fit. She opened one eye and then the other, looking at the many Stanbots with a face as red as a stoplight. Her posture quickly became rigid, she stood up straight, and she pointed at them with faux anger. <em> "Du hast nichts gesehen! Geh zurück an die Arbeit!" </em></p><p> </p><p>And so they scattered with simulated “Eeeps!” and “Ahhs!” Normalcy returned to the lab, and Constanze properly faced her cameras now and spoke to it:</p><p> </p><p>“Note to self; talk to Amanda. Relationship advice is now mission critical.” In the feedback showing Constanze’s own face, she spotted a snooping Stanbot whom she turned to and yelled. “Don’t make me get Akko and her broom!” And it ran away into a clattering mess of junk; Constanze groaned loudly. “Even if we die here,” She started to say to her future self, “I want her to know how I feel.” It was said in the same way she had to Sucy, regarding a certain promise.</p><p> </p><p>With love out of the way, and dead air taking up space, Constanze forced herself to remember where she had last left off with the recording. Her eyes looked over to the blueprints for the second prototype and she shook her head. “Useless.” She reached over and rolled up the paper and put it through a nearby shredder. </p><p> </p><p>“My first idea is certainly the best. If this won’t work then…. It will work. I just need the <em> wunder element </em>; whatever the hell it is.” Constanze examined the blueprints one final time and then nodded with satisfaction. “Mission update: Complete the Entrapment Excavator skeleton, motor, and interface; then consult with colleagues on an ideal material to use for the drill-bit. Expected time of completion…. Stanbot!”</p><p> </p><p>A Stanbot came running over, already calculating the answer to Constanze’s question. In a chip tune voice it spoke from out of view from the camera. “Twenty one point four hours of labor!” </p><p> </p><p>“Raise the enthusiasm factor by three points and consider this a life or death scenario!”</p><p> </p><p>“Eighteen point two hours!”</p><p> </p><p>“Better! Come now, schnell! Bring me my tools!”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>Diana was run ragged; almost into the ground at this point, and the sun had yet to reach its apex in the sky. So much blood and pain on the faces and bodies of the wounded; Diana would never grow used to it. She had little interest in being a literal doctor, magical or otherwise, and instead sought a future as a force of social and political change; she would work to bring healing to those who had been denied and needed it most. She hardly ever thought she’d be doing any of that business herself, outside of say accidents at home and emergencies. </p><p> </p><p>While this was certainly an emergency, it was also far beyond the skills of just one witch, Cavendish or not, to take on. The Antiquarians, for mercy, had many skilled healers amidst their ranks, but many of those very same witches were the ones who needed the most care, and Luna Nova held no stock of rare magical medicines. There was no steady stream of unicorn blood to draw from to instantly mend severely fractured bones, no troll fat on hand to ease pain and clot internal lacerations, and certainly no phoenix bones available to be ground up into powder to revive one of the recently deceased. </p><p> </p><p>Nevertheless, Diana was a woman who had assumed her legacy years ago, and never could she look upon a being, man, fae, or otherwise, and witness it suffer without offering aid. </p><p> </p><p>She was just finishing up one of the last operations she would need to attend to for the day, and of all the persons who was on the receiving end of her scalpel, herbal alchemy, and wand-cast spells, was Ibrahim. </p><p> </p><p>He sported a strangely held arm due to where it had been fractured, and otherwise was laid out, bare chested and covered in small bandagings, but awake. He’d been administered painkillers, thanks to the goblin staff who offered their collective help to aiding the wounded, but forced himself to remain awake; he couldn’t risk taking on a sleeping spell and being drowsy during another attack. </p><p> </p><p>Diana stood on her weary feet with a sick-mask and gloves, and had thankfully finished her treatment of Ibrahim’s rib, which was found to be just bruised and slightly ajar after an invasive investigation. “The hardest part is over, Ibrahim; you can breathe easier.” Diana had been cycling through similar lines of reassurance and soothing all day, and keeping up the calm and collected guise she had always held prior became ever more difficult. </p><p> </p><p>Luckily, Ibrahim was not panicking, and had in fact been very calm during the whole procedure, though he of course was not without his uncomfortable jitters and shifting. He did not fully release his held breath until Diana cast a simple healing spell, <em> “Simulara Shaytana,” </em>which closed the incision made on the upper right side of his chest. </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, Ms. Cavendish. I know I’ve said it maybe twenty times now, but… thank you for all your efforts.” Ibrahim lifted his unwounded left arm to brush up against where the incision had been made prior, and after he confirmed it was gone, he attempted to sit up. </p><p> </p><p>Despite lacking strength given her sleepless night, battle filled morning, and the subsequent non-stop medical work the day prior, Diana was able to press against Ibrahim’s chest hard enough to ensure he did not rise. “Don’t be foolish. You’ll need <em> at the bare minimum </em> a few hours of bed rest before I even consider letting you sit, let alone stand.” Her tone shifted to an uncharacteristically angry, even toxic one, but Ibrahim could fault her little. This was the other reason why Diana had never wished to be a full time doctor herself; when people disobeyed her under pressure, she had a tendency to lash out, and she hated to catch herself doing that in even the most minor of ways. </p><p> </p><p>“With… agh… all due respect, I don’t think either of us know if we actually have a few hours to rest. Besides, I had all of yesterday to recover.” Ibrahim wanted to deliver that line coyly and perhaps even throw in a joke, but the state of affairs was just far too grim to even consider it. </p><p> </p><p>“We don’t…. I’m sorry.” Diana set aside the scalpel to be cleaned later. “But I’m not even finished with you yet; your arm, can you move it at all?” </p><p> </p><p>Ibrahim sucked in air and attempted to move it in a slow circular motion, starting from the shoulder. When no pain came, he moved to very careful extensions with his elbow, and only upon laying his arm down at the wrist did he hiss and recoil in pain. “There! Ach!” His right fist tightened as Diana nodded thoughtfully. </p><p> </p><p>“Easy now. Given you can still move your hand with little issue, it’s likely to be a fracture we can treat.” She readied her wand for hopefully the last time today and held it over Ibrahim’s upturned right arm. “The channelling should take a few minutes…. Would talking help keep your mind off of the pain?”</p><p> </p><p>“Y-Yes…. Yes I think so. I’m less worried about distracting you when knives aren’t involved.” Ibrahim idly thought of the small sets of scars around the lower ends of his breast and of the operation he had during his youth. It was a fleeting memory, but it was comforting at least, despite the unwanted marks he was left with. </p><p> </p><p>“A moment then.” Diana then began to breathe steadily, carefully, and gently rested her hand and spare hand upon the spot where the fracture was located. Magic flowed from her being, to the wand, and then to Ibrahim. Given time his bones would reknit, but only tentatively; for any of the severely wounded to fully heal they would need time that Diana and Ibrahim cursed the world for denying, but especially Ibrahim.</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me, how are the others?” He spoke as a father would of his children, but with an air of not just paternal, but fraternal concern. </p><p> </p><p>“None have perished since eight hundred hours, at least. I believe that was the last of the deaths…. The immediate ones. We’re doing our best to prevent infections and monitor for unseen complications, but we’re no hospital.” Diana was hoping Ibrahim would want to talk about something besides the here and now, so she changed the subject suddenly. “Might I ask you a few things? About your life, your work. If it’s no trouble.”</p><p> </p><p>Ibrahim’s face scrunched up, partly in pain, and partly in a way that showed confusion; he wasn’t confused, but rather curious. “I suppose. Though I have to ask, what has you wondering about me?”</p><p> </p><p>Diana turned her gaze to meet Ibrahim’s. “Even as the Cavendish heir apparent, I did not know of your organization until two years ago. A representative came by the estate with requests for aid from our family; they didn’t realize just how sorry a state my familiys’ enterprises were in.” Diana cleared her throat, feeling self conscious for admitting something that could be perceived as a failing on her own part, and continued, eager to move past that bit. “I was displeased that I could not have been there in person to form a deeper affiliation with your peers.”</p><p> </p><p>Ibrahim managed an uneasy smile. “Peers. Yes. That is certainly a word for them.” He paused, hissing at a brief pang of pain that washed over him. When it passed, he resumed. “Don’t mistake my hesitancy for…. Ahh… what’s the word.” His lips and jaw shifted quizzically. “Distrust. I do not distrust my more distant Antiquarian comrades, but I do clash with them often; more often than I’d like really.” He grunted lowly and swallowed back the pain while feeling a slight headache come to him just by thinking of the many arguments he’s had. </p><p> </p><p>“Hm? Over what?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just about anything you can imagine. Each coven has their own way of doing things; their own traditions. We eschew any standardized practices; it invalidates what we came from.” Ibrahim smiled, taking pride in his work. “A humanity united across all cultures, keeping the peace and preserving history.” </p><p> </p><p>Diana raised her brows, surprised, but very much approving. “And here I thought modernity was wearing away at our traditions.”</p><p> </p><p>“I thought that too, as a young boy even. My father, an Antiquarian as well, always told me: <em> If you fear you’re losing yourself, losing your home, then you must first make yourself known, and then never back down. In the face of their guns and batons, never hide yourself.” </em>Ibrahim blinked twice in reccolation and raised his left hand to hold his face gently. “He helped me a lot; he still does, in his own way.” Where the talking helped distract Ibrahim from his wounds, a trip down memory lane through the moments he had with his father almost made the pain unnoticeable. </p><p> </p><p>Diana, regrettably, could not know much of what it meant to have a supportive family. Her mother imparted great wisdom, but she left them all so soon. Diana sensed loss in Ibrahim’s words though, but when thinking of her own grief, she knew it was better to leave well enough alone. This was meant to help him get through his treatment and nothing more, even if Diana was actually glad to be speaking plainly with an unfamiliar face. She allowed the topic to fade with a few moments of silence. </p><p> </p><p>Ibrahim enjoyed that silence greatly, and broke it with opening eyes and a rejuvenated smile. “Heheh… you know, it’s funny actually.” Ibrahim wagged a pointing finger at the ceiling, chuckling slowly. “He actually said that to me first when I asked him about wanting to get top surgery, and he said it again just as I went under….” Ibrahim wagged a knowing finger at nothing in particular as his memories became clearer. “Hah… funny how it comes back to me, when I’m lying here, getting treated like this.” </p><p> </p><p>“I forget who said it, but I know they were quite the wise witch…. <em> Just as Yggdrasil is marked by the triskel, a symbol of cycles and eternity, we as witches all go through cycles. Those repetitions shall follow us through life as echoes. </em>” Diana felt the name was on the tip of her tongue, but otherwise couldn’t attribute it. </p><p> </p><p>“It sounds familiar; I know what you mean.” He nodded appreciably. “Didn’t you want to know more about the order though? I apologize if I got a bit too personal there.” </p><p> </p><p>“Hmm? Oh, well, perhaps if time allows.” She leaned in to examine the wound and briefly stopped her channelling. “Try flexing your wrist <em> very carefully </em>.” That last bit of her request was filled with that tired toxicity again, and she bit her tongue in silent reprimand. </p><p> </p><p>Doing as ordered, Ibrahim rolled his wrist circularly and stopped when it became clear he couldn’t complete the motion. “Agh! Gotta keep it steady. When I turn it upside down…. Tch!” He confirmed his first suspicions which had Diana already preparing heavy bandaging and gauze; his hand was soon cast firmly to prevent it from moving improperly and set to stay rigid with a flick of the wand that made the adhesive bonds especially strong.</p><p> </p><p>“There. That should be everything….” Diana breathed a heavy groan and sigh as she ruggedly tore away her sick mask and paced in a dizzy circle. </p><p> </p><p>“You have my deepest thanks, Ms. Cavendish. I just wish we could have met…” Ibrahim grunted as he labored to lay back onto a much taller stack of pillows. “...Under better conditions.” He exhaled once in quick relief before surveying his surroundings. “I suppose time won’t be allowing then?”</p><p> </p><p>Diana shook her head while continuing to pace dizzily; eventually she stumbled upon her water bottle and drained it in one go. “No. I’m in dire need of rest. And frankly, you should get some rest too.” Diana turned her head to glance at him. “I can’t stay here just to make sure you don’t ignore my recommendations. But if I hear that you, or really any of the wounded, start trying to waddle about like everythings fine I <em>will</em> <em>not hesitate</em> to have Finnelan restrain you to your beds. We have so little supplies as is, and I would hope that well trained witches and warlocks such as yourselves would have the good sense to tend to your wounds.” </p><p> </p><p>“Well, if anyone were to try it, you can thank me for that.” Ibrahim morbidly chuckled. “I’ve always been one to self sacrifice above all else…. I don’t ask my comrades to do so, but they seem to like taking after me.”</p><p> </p><p>Diana sighed, but managed to find at least one happy silver lining in that statement. “It’s a sign that you’re a strong leader; not that the way you carry yourself says anything different. I rarely meet men as confident as you, and I could never call you prideful based on what I’ve seen.” </p><p> </p><p>“I need to stay confident: The moment I truly doubt myself is the moment I’ve gone too far. I’ll have already failed by then. It’s why I’m especially glad to have your friend with us now.”  Ibrahim considered his heavily bandaged and cast hand curiously, getting used to how it felt as he spoke.</p><p> </p><p>“Sucy?” Diana turned her body to properly face Ibrahim as a hand went to her hip, noting her curiosity. </p><p> </p><p>“Aye. She’s sharp, and she doesn’t hesitate to speak her mind, even if she is a bit reclusive.” Ibrahim, content with how he’d been set up for now, rested his arms on the bed. “And we’ve been lacking for polyglots, in truth. Especially now.” He quietly went through the names of the deceased; they’d all need to be returned home, back to the peaks of High Atlas, where his coven’s base of operations lay.</p><p> </p><p>“I-I didn’t know she was so proficient with language.” Diana cleared her throat and set aside the brief social guilt she had over the topic. “We’re more acquaintances. I’ve done my best to know her more, but Sucy is as Sucy does.” That’s what Akko always told her at least. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm.” Ibrahim nodded slowly. “She’s careful in who she gets close to, that’s for sure. I just hope I can be counted among that group some day.” A few thoughtful moments of silence passed before he continued. “You wanted to rest though; I shouldn’t keep you longer. And just as a sign of good faith, I’ll stay in bed until….” He regarded the clock; eight forty, “Fifteen hundred hours. I know I should stay longer, but as a woman of power and position, you must understand that my comrades need me. Morale is already low enough as is.”</p><p> </p><p>Diana relented, fixing her hair one last time as she set aside her empty bottle. “If you truly must, then very well. I’ll be—” </p><p> </p><p>A knock at the door; it was already opened, but the gesture was done out of courtesy. “Uhh, Diana? Can I come in? I don’t wanna pass out like before if you're still doing surgery.” Akko certainly had a way of butting into scenes; it was natural for her to wander into just about anyone and everyone’s business. </p><p> </p><p>“A-Akko!” Diana’s voice was filled with weary love and concern, like she hadn’t seen her girlfriend in weeks. With her back turned, she was at least able to hide her ignoble expression from Ibrahim; he was a good man, but Diana had her quirks, and she would keep to them. “No, I’m, I mean, yes! I actually just finished, we can—” She briefly glanced back to Ibrahim who was nodding knowingly, accompanied by a hand-wavy motion that assured Diana all would be well.</p><p> </p><p>Diana mouthed silent thanks and hurried outside, deftly shutting the door as she did. When they were properly alone, both Akko and Diana checked behind each other and all around. Their traumatized eyes met and shared a moment of empathy that could only occur between lovers. Then they fell into each other as could be expected of touch starved lovers in a time of crisis. Lips were locked, whispers of concern and reassurement were shared, but what broke it up was the tight hugs they each gave to each other; their back-scratched harpy wounds had healed, but they were still very tender.</p><p> </p><p>Both of them drew away suddenly with yelps and cursing in English and Japanese respectively. The two writhed on their feet in a small disorganized bit of spinning and reaching for their backs and wands. After casting soothing spells on themselves, Diana and Akko were left hunched over or leaning against the wall with fresh beads of sweat on their face. Their backs, once burning like hot coals, became cold, frigid even, from the spells’ effects.</p><p> </p><p>Their eyes met again. Akko snickered, chuckled, and doted on Diana. “Hehehe….”</p><p> </p><p>Diana, having naturally relapsed into her stately guise after that passion filled moment, slowly came out of it with an uneasy half smile of her own. “Hah…Haha…..”</p><p> </p><p>Eventually the two laughed genuinely, if weakly.</p><p> </p><p>Once both were satisfied with having gotten all of that out of the way, Akko revealed why she’d actually come by. “Not to kill the mood, but uh, can I just say that this has all been <em> really </em> weird. Like, weirder than it’s ever been. I wanted to know if, well, maybe after you’ve rested, we could… Talk to Chariot? Do some investigation of our own? You know, like old times.” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh?” Diana pondered on what exactly Akko was thinking of, or rather, why she was thinking of that specifically. Of course, Akko would want answers; answers Diana was happy to give. What confused Diana though is the way Akko spoke: She wasn’t enthusiastic, but rather timid and withdrawn. Perhaps it was natural in the face of unprevented death and tragedy, things Akko likely knew nothing of until today, for Diana’s beloved to be offset as she was. But then why was she still set on acting like this was ‘like old times?’ “I… suppose we should…. But, don’t you think we should….” Should what? For once, Diana was at a loss for a plan, and she <em> hated </em> that. </p><p> </p><p>“Well… I mean, I didn’t know much about this until last night, but I mean, as much as we like to joke about how dumb I am,”</p><p> </p><p>“Love, I hope it’s not—” Diana was always fearful Akko had internalized her bullying.</p><p> </p><p>“Tut-tut-tut! Remember what we talked about with hearing me out fully <em> before </em> pointing out how stupid something I said was!” Akko drew close, fauxly squinting in anger, but being genuine in her reminder. </p><p> </p><p>“I wasn’t…. Oh fine.” Diana scoffed with a shared bit of fake frustration, just glad to even be talking with Akko. This is what made it especially worrisome: Akko was really, <em> really </em> good at acting normal to hide her problems; not the obvious ones, but the internal and complicated ones. <em> “Nothing to be done about it now.” </em> Diana concluded internally.</p><p> </p><p>“So! As I was saying,” Akko went to extra lengths to clear her throat. “I’ve not been <em> not </em> noticing things getting weird around here, I just assumed it was more of the usual! Especially with Chariot! But after last night, I think I’m putting it together. Remember how you told me about that ‘degrees of separation’ rule those creepy witches have to follow?”</p><p> </p><p>Diana blinked twice, “Y-Yes. Yes, I remember. Why?” She was genuinely curious where Akko might take this idea. </p><p> </p><p>“Well! With Chariot acting so strangely, and with all those weird riddles she’s been giving out, including the one she gave to you….” Akko rubbed at her chin like she was wearing a monocle and had a beloved friend named Wattson.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you think….” </p><p> </p><p>“Chariot’s being indirect because she’s been kidnapped, and the fake Chariot we have has to follow that stupid rule because <em> she’s </em> one of the creepy witches!” If confetti and fanfare could be brought into play, it would have been. Instead, Akko was left standing triumphantly, pointing skyward, and regretfully without confetti. </p><p> </p><p>Diana facepalmed, but then immediately let the hand fall as Akko’s thought process sparked the kindling of clues that were building in Diana’s head. “Wait, no, that’s it!”</p><p> </p><p>“Eh?” Akko was sad at first given the facepalming response usually meant she was <em> “waaay” </em> off, but became starry eyed when Diana seemingly agreed. “I WAS RIGHT!? OR… I am right!?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes! I mean, no…. Oh please, Nine Olde Witches, <em> let my girlfriend be wrong </em> . But I think you’re definitely on to something!” Diana looked in part to the window, staring at nothing in particular as she recounted all of the events she could involving Chariot in the past month or so. She was always acting so… <em> indirect </em>. Only in the most mundane of things would she drop and notions of complexity and actually act with efficiency; otherwise, everything was like one whole mess of implications and hopes that Chariot’s conversational partner understood. And why was she exempt from aiding in the crisis? From working with the other professors, the Antiquarians?</p><p> </p><p>“Oh come <em> on </em> Diana…. I mean, wait, actually, I <em> really </em> hope I’m wrong too! That would be terrible! A kidnapped Chariot, an evil body double!” Akko shivered at the very thought. “But what <em> was </em> I right about?”</p><p> </p><p>“The degrees of separation! Chariot <em> has </em> to have a reason for acting so strangely, and I think that <em> is </em> the reason! I… I suppose it isn’t the full reason though. She wouldn’t be abiding by a certain ruling of separation without some sort of consequence forcing her to do so.” Diana looked back down to Akko while speaking, and the two instinctively joined hands.</p><p> </p><p>“Well there’s only one thing to do then, right? We have to talk to her!” Akko began to drag Diana away, but when she was met with resistance, she spun around with a confused look. </p><p> </p><p>“A-Akko!” Diana stumbled but managed to steady herself. </p><p> </p><p>“Whaaaat? We can’t wait Diana!”</p><p> </p><p>“I…. Oh god…. We may have to.” Diana lurched over, holding her gut and leaning against the wall. “Not everyone shares your… ugh, boundless energy…. And I feel sick to my stomach. Please, just, let me pass out on something that isn’t a library desk. It’ll be the first bit of good bed rest I’ll have gotten in a week.” </p><p> </p><p>Akko came back to Diana with outstretched arms, carefully propping her noble girlfriend upright and keeping her steady. “Ok, ok…. Sorry, I’m just restless.” Akko bit her lower lip. “I can hardly imagine Chariot keeping anything from me, er, anything more from me….”</p><p> </p><p>Diana wished she could agree with that sentiment. “R-Regardless, please, help me to my room. And, if it’s not too much trouble, could you—”</p><p> </p><p>“Food, water, temperature control!? Anything you could want, I’ll get it for you!” Akko, likely against best judgement, shook Diana by the shoulders while stating her boundless desire to help Diana in a time of need. </p><p> </p><p>“Aaakkoo…. Don’t…” Diana put her palms flat against the wall behind her, fumbling for something to steady herself against. “I do need water… yes. I’m… very dehydrated. But I actually wanted you to… just stay with me. Can you do that?”</p><p> </p><p>Akko blinked twice, as if somehow just remembering that she too had gone almost a full day without sleep. She considered herself and whether or not Sucy gave her an energizing potion the night before while she was napping, but after realizing she still awoke with a sense of taste, Akko wrote that off as not likely. Instead, Akko decided to not ask anymore questions to anyone, herself included; now was a time for action! “Got it! We’ll both collapse in a tired heap together! As a couple!” How she could be so enthusiastic about this was beyond Diana. </p><p> </p><p>“Ok, but please do—N’T PICK ME—” Too late. </p><p> </p><p>The couples’ slurred and jumbled argument that followed carried all the way down hallways of Luna Nova; one of the few heartwarming sights and sounds that was to be had out in the open that day. </p><p> </p><p>All the while Ibrahim was laughing vigorously from within his treatment room. He wasn’t an intentional eavesdropper; it wasn’t his fault the walls may as well have been paper thin despite their baroque finishes. As his lonely laugher died down and all became silent again, Ibrahim shook his head. The business regarding Chariot was certainly concerning, though he felt it wasn’t his place to press on it; if it was significant to their case, Diana and Akko would bring it forward, most assuredly. </p><p> </p><p>What had him more concerned though was the way forward. No clear path was laid before them, and Ibrahim refused to sit by and allow fate to take its course; something must be done. He had heard a student, one of the ‘New Nine’ even, was working on a possible solution; he’d have to track them down later. Perhaps more importantly, he needed to organize what forces remained, as a proper defence may need to be mounted; Ibrahim wouldn’t allow them to be ambushed again. </p><p> </p><p>Finally, his thoughts drifted to Sucy. She herself wasn’t what interested him, but the circumstances that brought Sucy to the Antiquarians: The Sanctum of The Nine. Perhaps that ancient and harrowing labyrinth held the keys to Luna Nova’s salvation. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>Hannah was alone. </p><p> </p><p>She wasn’t often alone, but here she was. </p><p> </p><p>It felt like it was the first time she’d ever been alone in her life, since she’d been running around like a mad woman ever since that most recent argument within the polycule. Problems; everywhere there were problems upon problems, and Hannah just couldn’t physically be in so many places to fix them all. This is what Hannah hated most about this crisis; about any crisis. </p><p> </p><p>Hannah was standing in solitude on the steps of the academy entrance, her body unwilling to move while her mind screamed for action. These discordant signals had Hannah paralyzed, running through every single thing that she could possibly think of in the moment, even to the point of being illogical. </p><p> </p><p>She feared for the safety of the other students, the professors, the Antiquarians, herself, her friends, lovers, and so on. That was the most obvious thing to be concerned with. Then came fears about the academy, it’s survival as an institution. Hannah had never been very intrigued in the historical weight the school held, or even in the legacy of her own family; the past was just that, it held little sway over Hannah. </p><p> </p><p>Despite that, she felt a heavy lead ball of melancholy resting in her chest, telling her that with Luna Nova gone the world would be incomplete. Was it because she came to love her youth? To love those she met in youth? To appreciate that vague history and legacy? All yes, to some degree, but mostly the second reason. This place held memories; memories she wouldn’t want to lose. </p><p> </p><p>Usually Barbara was the sentimental one, but when Hannah turned instinctively to look for her almost ever present companion, she found empty space and a ghostly campus; the near evening sun was beating bright on the school grounds, shimmering weirdly through the entrapping dome. That queer light was the only things that made this day visibly different than any other, for the natural ambience didn’t even seem to register the domes existence. The world did not, perhaps could not know or care for the plight of the trapped witches; they were cut off by all means of communication, and there seemed to be no exit. </p><p> </p><p>To add injury to dread, Hannah couldn’t even find true solace in spending what felt like her final days with the one’s she loved. All they brought her was more frustration, more anger. And how <em> dare </em> they ruin these moments of reconciliation with their whining and their panicked crying, their drinking and bravado, their reclusive silence and….</p><p> </p><p>“Oh who the hell am I kidding….” As if remembering how to breathe, the words escaped Hannah’s mouth in a windy paced sigh. </p><p> </p><p>She was of course still brooding over troubles with her lovers, despite having plenty of other things she could be upset over. Hannah couldn’t understand why they were grating on her so much at a time like this. She’d been finely trained in the ways of etiquette and social navigating; she knew very well that in times of despair, lovers must <em> set aside </em> their problems to spend time with one another! </p><p> </p><p>Sure, these lessons came from her noble parents who to this day wish she had fallen for a charming young nobleman rather than a middling noble woman, let alone a common witch of foul tongue…. From <em> America </em> no less! If Hannah had been drilled on anything, it was to <em> never </em> fall for an <em> American </em>. </p><p> </p><p>Her mind wandered again, and she had to lightly pat and slap her own cheeks to get back on track: </p><p> </p><p><em> “Why can’t they just… be happy that we at least have each other right now? They just have to go and… ruin it all! Just waste my time with their stupid….” </em>She couldn’t do it, not to herself, and maybe not even their faces; she couldn’t get mad at either Amanda or Barbara in that way, no matter how much she wanted to be genuinely angry. </p><p> </p><p>So what was she then right now? Sad? Yes, she was well aware of her sorrow. Frustrated? It seemed more apt to call it that rather than anger. Then there seemed to be this other component, a hidden emotion, or rather, an emotion whose origin and feelings were complex and not self-evident. Hannah had encountered this feeling before, and she tarried with it often; only now did it feel like it was properly rising to the surface. </p><p> </p><p>Hannah walked along the semi circle stairs as her mind churned and sputtered, working overtime to make sense of what exactly she felt she needed to. Upon reaching one of the windows along her walk, Hannah paused to note her expression. </p><p> </p><p>Her mouth was just a hair agape, her eyes were open wide, but not shockingly so. Her movements, she realized, all felt heavy with hesitancy; a doubt in her very soul that perpetuated itself into all of existence in this time spent alone. It was not the doubt she often felt:</p><p> </p><p>Hannah had come to learn from her own curated and sheltered upbringing, that <em> she </em> needed to be on top of everything; that all others could not be trusted for their usefulness. A person of strong body, great will, and emanant mind was necessary to lead the self interested masses. That was her constant companion, the doubt that any other person could suitably handle matters of importance.</p><p> </p><p>Hannah considered then the reflection; that agape mouth, that doubtful step, her otherwise lithe frame and build…. Did she even meet the standards she set for others? </p><p> </p><p>“Well I certainly have the will.” Hannah spoke to no one in particular; when no one was around to talk to, Hannah found it difficult to think inside of her head. “And I’m <em> still </em> the salutatorian to be!” Hannah puffed up her chest and put her fists against her hips in a heroic pose. Perhaps she just needed to pep talk herself out of this funk. “No, no I’m not <em> that </em> strong….” her form deflated like a human balloon, leaving her hunched over, and then wanting for a place to seat herself. Right where she was standing was as good as any, and so she plopped herself right down on the stone steps. “It’s… it’s just dumb….” Words escaped her. </p><p> </p><p>Hannah focused on those standards; they too came from her parents, her mother specifically. They were only reinforced at Luna Nova when she fell in with Diana, who despite being all the more noble then Hannah could ever be, felt so much more put together. Hannah of course knew much of Diana’s outward appearance was an act, she was too perceptive to not realize that after all these years, but even without that mask of composure that Diana always tried to wear, Hannah couldn’t feel as anything but lesser by comparison. </p><p> </p><p>“Why am I even…?” She felt her mind had wandered again. “Ugh!” Barbara and Amanda were her anchors; she hated this silence. </p><p> </p><p>Hannah recentered on the topic of Diana, and on that hidden emotion she had been feeling earlier; the two things felt linked. She thought of her reflection too, and the pieces started to fall together. She recognized that expression she was making earlier: She first saw it on Diana’s face. </p><p> </p><p>“When?” </p><p> </p><p>Two years ago? No. Three? Four? Five. </p><p> </p><p>“At the Samhain festival….” </p><p> </p><p><em>Akko, Sucy, and Lotte had done it!</em> <em>They’d cured the accursed sadness of a being long thought beyond help! Beyond hope! The crowds were cheering, the alumni as well; but they did not take home the award. Diana did. She took it with her mouth slightly agape, wide, but not terribly wide eyes, hesitant and ever so slightly twitching hands; doubt in every movement.</em> </p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm….” Hannah scratched at her leg incessantly, and minutes passed without her fully coming to understand just what all this was supposed to mean.</p><p>Doubt. Akko. Diana. Strength and self worth. Awards and recognition. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm!” She was growing frustrated; just how did any of that matter now? Hannah wasn’t the one with a problem, everyone else just couldn’t hold themselves together. They should be lucky to have people like her and Diana around who can guide them. Otherwise they’d already all be dead by—On and on her mind rambled.</p><p> </p><p> Minutes felt like they turned to hours, and eventually, when Hannah made a rash movement of her scratching hand, she winced and recoiled. </p><p> </p><p>“Ow!” She half whispered. </p><p> </p><p>Her well kept nails had drawn blood; nothing terrible, it was like a cut made during shaving. “Ohh….” She fell into a whisper. <em> “Come on.” </em> Then all was silent again. After all, Hannah was <em> alone </em>, and only she could hear herself; only she was around to be judged. </p><p> </p><p>Hannah quickly corrected that. She stood and stormed inside with a hurried bit of grumbling and cursing aimed at generally everything. She needed to be with someone, and for all her gripes, she wanted to see Barbara and Amanda; she’d no doubt find them eventually in the infirmary where Amanda had been laid up that morning. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Barbara was alone. </p><p> </p><p>She wasn’t often alone, but here she was. </p><p> </p><p>This solitude reminded her of better days, back home when she was younger. Problems like <em> this </em>, the entrapped academy, the monsters, the wicked witches, didn’t exist. Barbara had her tomes, both for study and for entertainment, there was no want for food, and she could apply herself as she saw fit. Here though, in this very moment, everything made existence itself feel like one giant problem. </p><p> </p><p>Barbara was cooped up in the blue team dorm room; it was the best she could do in lieu of being unable to actually leave for home. Everything was, at the very least, mercifully quiet. She could get lost in her books here and avoid the troubles of the outside world, at least so she thought. </p><p> </p><p>The near evening sun shined queerly through the window; a borealis had formed from the distortion, and that one strange detail was enough to have Barbara rereading the same lines over and over again in her most recent literary pursuit. With a grumble, angered that she would have to get up from her cozy bed to be reminded of the terrible situation she was in, Barbara closed the curtains and isolated herself further in darkness. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s alright, Barbara. It’s all… right.” She forced herself to mantra this at least three times before she could sit still and not shake. The world was peaceful, surely! Barbara had made it so by just closing the blinds. There was no existential threat present; no wicked witches able to move heaven and earth out to kill them, no monsters, no stressors, nothing.</p><p> </p><p>There was Barbara and her book, and that was <em> all </em>. Yet she was still stuck on rereading the same lines…. Their content was wholly unimportant; it was at a random spot in the middle of the page and still she could bring herself to focus and progress through the tale. Uncharacteristically, she threw the book across the room with careless abandon, and without warning. “Tch! Boring!” It was a forced sounding yell, like someone else was acting on her body, and her voice was excusing its actions.</p><p> </p><p>It was actually quite interesting, the story, but now it was on the floor in a disheveled state, and Barbara thought she heard a page or two rip; or perhaps that was the spine of the book. What had her frustrated was of course the things she could not escape or run away from. There was no other person present to reorient her or humor her queries into random topics of research and fancy, and no one to enthrall her in her own stories. It always did seem to come back to Hannah and Amanda, and while Barbara didn’t lack for other friends, Lotte was likely already back home and blissfully unaware of the danger Luna Nova was in, and everyone else was just as miserable as Barbara. </p><p> </p><p>Perhaps it wasn’t appropriate to smile during a crisis, but barbara hardly cared for such conventions to begin with. She was an austere and well behaved child of nobility from a prominent enough witch family to at least still receive dinner invitations, so she of course knew how to walk the walk and talk the talk, but none of that ever interested her. Hannah interested her, Diana interested her, and so on; specific persons whom she grew attached to, adored, and idolized, just so happened to mostly be nobles, but were they anything else, say in Amanda’s and Lotte’s case, Barbara went with the social flow and dropped her restrictive behaviors. She was whatever the situation wanted her to be, whatever others demanded her to be. </p><p> </p><p>But when Barbara was alone, well, she had her books; she could distract herself from the terrifying thought of being known, of existing, and the issue of having to make herself happy, her books did that for her. </p><p> </p><p>But now, in a time when neither company nor books offered her comfort, what was Barbara left to do but face the problems, no, the world she so often just ran from? </p><p> </p><p>Barbara’s first inclination was to cry, and she did for around twenty minutes until that didn’t seem to make anything better. In time, she began to feel moderately better due to her emptied tear ducts, but the emptiness remained. She tried forcing herself to organize things, but still that hollowing in her soul haunted her. Finally, she tried writing out her feelings, but had only written two sentences despite breaking four pencil tips. There was nothing left but the realization:</p><p> </p><p> Barbara was alone and was convinced that she on her own could not be happy, not without distractions and abstractions. </p><p> </p><p>Barbara would not cure this ailment on her being though; not yet. She would treat it’s symptoms instead. She shoved her desk chair in upon standing up, ripped open her dresser and clothed herself in a flurry of movements, and briskly walked out with frustration accompanying every footfall. She’d go off to see someone, anyone, but would eventually end up where she always did, for better or worse, beside Amanda and Hannah. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The two quite literally bumped into one another, with Hannah and Barbara’s foreheads smacking together when the two were rounding the same corner from opposite directions. </p><p> </p><p>Barbara grabbed her forehead with a yelp. “W-Watch it!” She already regretted leaving her room.</p><p> </p><p>Hannah shook her dizzied head. “Ow! Ow! Can you maybe look where your—” Her tone was especially critical.</p><p> </p><p>Their voices ran over one another in their agitated and stunned state, but upon coming to recognize who they were with, both fixed their hair and quietly regained their own composure. </p><p> </p><p>“S-Sorry Hannah.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right. Just,” Hannah inhaled, minding her temper. “Be more careful, ok?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm….” Barbara closed her posture, her feet were drawn close together and her hands were snug against her sides in a crossing of arms. </p><p> </p><p>There was an awkward pause, which was especially painful for both of them to endure; they hardly ever had moments like this, they’d been the best of friends since they were kids, and their chemistry only got better with age. At least that’s what they both thought. </p><p> </p><p>“Where were you… headed?” Barbara stepped a hair close, but not too close, she could tell Hannah was in a bad mood. </p><p> </p><p>“N-Nowhere. Just. Wandering.” Hannah stepped back, having failed to notice Barbara’s desire to be closer; she was especially careful of giving Barbara space, but almost always ended up providing space when it was needed least, and invading it when it was needed most.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t need to hide it from me…. I’m… I just don’t care anymore right now. If you need help with something I’ll—” Barbara started, but Hannah did not let her finish. </p><p> </p><p>“No, no, it wasn’t anything you needed to do. I was just, doing it for me, I guess. I… know you wanted time alone, so I was being careful not to burden you with anything.” Hannah fixed her ponytail in the reflection of a nearby painting; she could still see that doubt on her face, she hated it. </p><p> </p><p>“I appreciate it.” Barbara turned away; she wasn’t alone anymore, but this still didn’t feel satisfying. “I love you.” She blurted out. It wasn’t terribly delivered or nervously stated, but there was little to prompt it, like she was preemptively apologizing. </p><p> </p><p>Hannah slowly turned and genuinely reassured Barbara with a gentle arm moving around Barbara’s shoulders.“I love you too.” The pair then rested there in the hallway with Barbara not reciprocating the holding gesture. Eventually, Barbara broke away, leaving Hannah with another dose of silent frustration. </p><p> </p><p>“Where were you headed then? Actually?” Barbara began down the hall in the direction she was initially headed.</p><p> </p><p>Hannah followed suit. “To… see Amanda. Actually.”</p><p> </p><p>“But… you… were walking… did you walk past it?” Barbara slowed to a crawl, looking about in confusion. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, I, just. I decided that maybe—” Hannah sputtered, eventually just blowing a weak raspberry and raising her voice. “Look we made an agreement to leave our relationship problems until <em> after </em> this shit this, ugh, until everything was normal.” Hannah threw her arms up as she spun around and faced the wall, if only so she wouldn’t have to bear the shame of her facing being seen by Barbara in this moment. </p><p> </p><p>Barbara turned away as well, unsure of how to console Hannah in that moment. “We could still see her. If we just, well, just to see her. If you want to.” Barbara tried being hopeful in her words, but if anything, she sounded desperate. “I’m certain she probably can’t stand being bedridden like that.” </p><p> </p><p>Hannah hummed and grumbled until she eventually mustered her faculties enough to pipe up and turn back around. “I heard she was better by now. I think she’s still getting bed rest, but, yeah, at least she’s not fading in and out like before.” Hannah exhaled sharply and shook up her face to put on a determined look. “And, if you think she’d be ok with that, then, yes, let’s go. Can’t stand just…” She couldn’t bring herself to admit it. “Let’s just go.” And so Hannah was off at a much faster pace than Barbara expected. </p><p> </p><p>“O-Ok!” Barbara called out and briefly jogged as to catch up before de-escalating her speed into a sort of awkward power walk. “Maybe we should go slower? I mean, it’s no rush right?”</p><p> </p><p>“The sooner the better Babs, the sooner the better.”</p><p> </p><p>“The better what? Sooner?” Tongue tied, Barbara babbled briefly before continuing. “What’s going to be better sooner?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know but I just want to do something about this. I don’t care if it’s reckless or whatever anymore but it’s only day two and this is just… killing me. If anyone’s got an idea to try and fix things, it’s Amanda.” Hannah desperately wanted to take control of the situation; the lack of any guarantees made every moment a frightful prospect of chance.</p><p> </p><p>“Can we at least not run? Jog? Whatever this is?” It truly was an awkward pace to keep.</p><p> </p><p>“Babs, please, we could use the workout.” </p><p> </p><p>“That’s not my point! We could—”</p><p> </p><p>The blue team witches then collided with yet another person from around a corner. Small yelps and a bit of cursing in English and Arabic accompanied the three witches collecting themselves off of the ground.</p><p> </p><p>“Oof! C-Careful now!” Ibrahim dusted himself off with a short chuckle. </p><p> </p><p>“Gah! I was trying to warn you Hannah!” Barbara pouted, pushing her face off of the marble. </p><p> </p><p>“Oi, oi!” Hannah had taken at least one or two things from Amanda’s playbook, the attitude was her favorite. “Does no one watch where they're going anymore?” Hannah picked herself up and scowled at the Antiquarian who she only realized to be Ibrahim after a few frustrating moments. “Uhhh.” </p><p> </p><p>“I guess not.” Ibrahim smirked, hiding the dull pain in his wrist given he’d fallen on it just then. “Though… ahhh,” He rose like an old man might, leaning on his pike staff, which had it’s blade retracted of course. “You’d do well not to jog in the hall yeah? I know it’s supposed to be quiet but, well, with us trapped, we’re not going to get anywhere useful quickly.” </p><p> </p><p>“I was <em> trying </em> to tell her that.” Barbara crossed her arms and turned away. “Hmmph.”</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, alright, yes, I’ll stop running everywhere, jeez.” Hannah felt like she was acting too defensive, but also that she couldn’t just back down and admit she was wrong so easily. </p><p> </p><p>“Heh, it’s actually a funny coincidence I found you two here. I was looking for Amanda.” Ibrahim spoke as he stretched leisurely. </p><p> </p><p>“She’s not in the infirmary?” Barbara darted her gaze to Ibrahim, clearly worried. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh no, she better not be doing something stupid… yet.” Hannah rolled up her sleeves, her scowl returning. </p><p> </p><p>“The cyclops nurse was kind enough to tell me she actually went to ‘train.’ Whatever that means for Amanda.”  </p><p> </p><p>“Well… there’s nothing really valuable around to steal.” Barbara sighed relievedly; Ibrahim raised a brow. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, and there’s no bars to go to and get in a fight…. Did you know she did that once and called it <em> training? </em> Yeah, really.” Hannah quipped pompously to Ibrahim who cleared his throat and became more erect in his posture. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, I’m sure she’s had go—”</p><p> </p><p>“Good reasons? Psh, it’s all kicks for her.” Hannah hissed. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh come on Hannah, you said you’d be nicer, and <em> more private </em>, about her… vices….” Barbara came up beside Hannah, squeezing her cheeks to make her look like a goldfish. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll… just assume she’s… just adventurous!” Ibrahim nervously chortled, warry that maybe he’d misjudged Amanda.</p><p> </p><p>“Hoo pan left go of me!” Hannah struggled to speak correctly before pulling Barbara’s hands away by the wrist. “Ok, just to clarify, she’s honestly not <em> that </em> bad.” Her tone was beleaguered; she hated having to explain away Amanda’s bad behavior, especially to important persons! “She doesn’t do…. She doesn’t…. Ok, there’s no way I can think to say this without being crass, but she really doesn’t do any dumb shit unless she feels she really has to. Your belongings are safe and sound, I’m sure.”</p><p> </p><p>“R-Right! She just… cares a lot; sometimes, she ignores… the law, when she cares. That’s all.” Barbara put on the fakest smile possible while trying to sell that line. </p><p> </p><p>Hannah groaned. “Babs, I know you mean well, and your right, but <em> please </em> let me do the talking.” </p><p> </p><p>“It’s not my fault—!”</p><p> </p><p>“Ms. Parker, Ms. England, please!” Ibrahim raised up his free hand to signal their silence, though his voice was not raised in anger, but rather in desperation to go about his business. “M-Might you know where Amanda is right now? I’d like to speak to her on a plan I had…. And well, while it’s not my favorite one from recent memory, I feel we’re very quickly running out of options.” </p><p> </p><p>“A plan so desperate it’s making the senior Antiquarian second guess it?” Hannah looked to Barbara with a genuine mix of concern and confusion on her face. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> After </em> you were both no doubt given explicit orders from Diana to rest?” Barbara pointedly side eyed Ibrahim. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, yes, that’s a risk I’m willing to take, and surely you all—”</p><p> </p><p>“Yep, she’ll do it.” Barbara nodded with a sigh. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m actually kind of glad for it though.” Hannah looked down to her feet and twirled nervously. </p><p> </p><p>“Eh?” Ibrahim blinked wildly; this whole interaction felt like whiplash after whiplash, how did Amanda keep up with them? </p><p> </p><p>“Even if it has Ibrahim worried of all people?” Barbara consoled Hannah with a squeeze around her left hand. </p><p> </p><p>“Well I’d rather follow his stupid idea than hers to be honest.” Hannah cleared her throat and turned to Ibrahim. “No offense of course!”</p><p> </p><p>“None… taken. Ahem.” Ibrahim tried to clear his throat loudly enough that they’d realize he had a question, but Hannah kept going. </p><p> “So yeah, I think we’re all at our wits end, and if anything is going to get us out, it’s sheer dumb luck and a whole lot of daring.” Hannah raised a finger, as if making a scholarly statement. “That’s what always got us out of trouble when things got bad before.”</p><p> </p><p>“But things are… <em> really </em> bad. It’s different now, Hannah.” Barbara lamented. </p><p> </p><p>“Ohhh for the love of…” Ibrahim held his forehead. “Can we go look for her and talk semantics then?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hm?” The two turned and cocked their heads thoughtfully. </p><p> </p><p>Hannah shrugged. “Why didn’t you ask earlier?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, she’s probably out behind the broom shed; she liked practicing her more dangerous spells there.” Barbara beckoned with one hand and began pulling Hannah along gently. “Come on!” If only Hannah and Barbara could remain in that “flow” state forever, their problems would never surface. </p><p> </p><p>Ibrahim facepalmed, gestured for them to lead on, and followed suit. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>Forty. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda had gone through forty targets at this point, and she was still missing the marks on her spells at a slower pace than she’d like. Sweat and the faintest bit of blood dripped down her neck and onto her shirt; the exertion was hell on her body, and the closed wounds she had were threatening to fully open once more if she kept being hasty. </p><p> </p><p>What was Amanda to do though? Her mind could only accept and understand one thing right now: She wasn’t good enough to protect herself, and if she couldn’t do that, she was as good as dead already. Not to mention her fear of letting loved ones suffer from her own incompetence. </p><p> </p><p>“Again.” She mouthed almost wordlessly. She didn’t even bother resetting the targets this time; she memorized where they were supposed to be, and that’s all that mattered. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda reset her posture to a slightly wide gait, hands at her waist but not unreadied and gave a scan about her surroundings. “Three… two… one…”</p><p> </p><p>Her right hand in under a second’s time whipped her wand from her waist and fired off a murowa where a half scorched target stood right up front. It was properly blasted to pieces, and without even hesitating Amanda spun around and round housed a target she’d set up just behind her on a barrel; the kick landed perfectly and knocked away the stand that had been hastily nailed to the fixture. </p><p> </p><p>Next came a dicey maneuver, one that had been giving her trouble all day. While mid roundhouse, Amanda reached out to send a firebolt toward a distant opponent who she marked by a scarecrow made from some large branches, a bucket head, and a burlap sack for a body. It was about forty feet away, and finally, only now was she able to hit it dead on. Both targets were eliminated expertly.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda reset, but she only gave herself two seconds to breathe before running off to her right and throwing a heavy punch at a target set up on the side of the broom shed. The wooden thing cracked into pieces, partly from all the other blows that it had received before, and otherwise because Amanda had shot her arm forward with a phoss spell. By now, she was bleeding from her knuckles, but there was no time to bleed or feel pain; she was getting it right this time. </p><p> </p><p> The last target was up, and it was a doozy:</p><p> </p><p> From her position, having just destroyed the punched target, Amanda began to climb up the cabin wall in a sort of horizontal run before using phoss to burst off of it like a human torpedo. She held her wand in both hands and whispered an advanced fire-magic spell. “Magaria…” Flames and pure heat energy enveloped her wand and hands, forming a sort of spike like shape. “Tryphell!” Amanda completed the spell, causing the flames to become solid and cohesive, like a sword of fire. With it, Amanda slashed at a target that was nailed to a tree. She’d never even made it this far in her last attempts; she always ended up falling short or having the spell fizzle, finally it was going to work. The cut hit true, but perhaps too true.</p><p> </p><p>It was rent in two pieces, but so was the sizable tree, and it began to fall down, threatening to crash down on Amanda, who had no time to react given she’d just landed into a kneeling position, wobbly from the flight she took. </p><p> </p><p>“Waa-AAAGGH!” Amanda started to scream, closed her eyes, and shielded her face as her spell faded and the tree came closer. The pain never came however, as the hum of magic began above and around her. </p><p> </p><p>“And I thought I was bad about bed rest orders.” Ibrahim shook his head vigorously; he was holding his staff out by his good hand and maintaining the spell that saved Amanda any further injuries. </p><p> </p><p>“Eh?” Amanda blinked twice, looked around, and found the tree was being held up by… scaffolding?</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t mind that; just an illusion. Come on now I’d rather not hold this spell forever!” Ibrahim forced a smile where it was otherwise a bit straining to. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, come on Amanda! We have something important to talk about!” Hannah shouted impatiently, her tapping foot and cross arms serving as indication of that. </p><p> </p><p>“That <em> was </em> really stunning though… you have to admit.” Barbara commented sheepishly, turned her gaze away, and allowed herself to fawn over Amanda in relative secrecy.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda, while gasping for air, scrambled out from under the falling tree and did her best to stand upright; she ended up getting a face full of grass instead. “Gach!” Amanda groaned faintly, feeling just about done with the world in that moment. An extended hand from Ibrahim helped her up, and with that, the illusory scaffolding blinked in and out of existence like a slowly fading hologram before they returned no more, leaving the tree to harmlessly fall.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe we’ve come at a bad time, but the sooner we set our course straight the better.” Ibrahim clapped Amanda on the back, smiling admirably. “And for being unconscious from blood loss this morning, to pulling off some wild stunts, I’d say you’ve made a full recovery.” His eyes then focussed on Amanda’s wounded shoulder and neck, where heavy padding was hidden beneath her shirt; it was lightly red now due to minor bleeding. “Well, almost a full recovery.”</p><p> </p><p>“She <em> really </em> should be resting like <em> Diana </em> told her to!” Hannah leaned in, leering all the while at her ‘broom knight.’ </p><p> </p><p>“R-Right!” Barbara managed to pull herself away from less than polite fantasies. She cleared her throat and fixed her fists to her hips, forming a sort of scowl of her own, only to break it immediately with a half whispered question. “Wait didn’t we come out here to do something dumb and reckless anyway?”. Amanda palmed the top half of her head with a groan at that. </p><p> </p><p>“Focus!” Ibrahim was not about to get caught in the polycule whirlpool, and he raised up calming hands to try and alleviate tensions. “We came here to discuss a plan!” He looked intently at Amanda. “And my agents are almost wholly indisposed right now. They’re all doing what they can to magically seal the natural entrances to the academy from the inside; doors, windows, only witches from within will be able to—”</p><p> </p><p>“Woah, woah, woah! Jesus wept, give a girl a moment ok?” Amandas’ words were laboured as was her breathing. She bent over, holding her knees as she took her self-allotted moment to collect her thoughts. “Ok, so first, will those barriers actually do shit? You saw what that freak could do.”</p><p> </p><p>Ibrahim sighed. “It’ll do what it can. At the least, it should buy us a few minutes to mount a proper resistance. I’ve recalled all patrols; no more wandering from the academy.” Ibrahim held his chin and then wiped his mouth. “Really if you weren’t too busy running off, you would have been told about the restrictions I put in place.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda chuckled weakly, rubbing the back of her head as she rose to an upright posture. “Yeah, about that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, it’s not like us being out here makes it much better.” Barbara remarked. </p><p> </p><p>“Right. It doesn’t. Let’s head back.” Ibrahim looked around, scanning the surroundings for anything weird if only out of good principle, and then started toward the academy.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda nodded; she, Hannah, and Barbara all followed after without any hesitation, and each was on guard now that they’d been reminded just how dangerous even being outside could be.</p><p> </p><p>“So what’s this plan then?” Amanda kept them on topic as they strolled. </p><p> </p><p>“Something stupid and daring.” Hannah smirked. “It’ll be perfect for you I’m sure. Hmm.” </p><p> </p><p>“Way to kick a girl when she’s down….” Amanda rolled her eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“Ibrahim, what’s the plan.” Barbara urged them to focus. </p><p> </p><p>Grateful for that, Ibrahim obliged, “We’re going to have to explore the subterranean levels of the academy; specifically, The Sanctum of The Nine.” Ibrahim was leading the way, so his head wasn’t turned to see Amanda’s face go a bit paler from hearing that. </p><p> </p><p>“W-Wait a second, that forbidden chamber right? The one Sucy chec—”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, Sucy did what in the sanctum?” Hannah leaned away from Amanda in shock at hearing her begin. </p><p> </p><p>“So you know then?” Ibrahim glanced back solemnly, though he kept pace. “I assume she told you?” The nod from Amanda was all he needed. “Well, then you know why Ms England here is calling it daring and stupid.”</p><p> </p><p>“I mean, I didn’t know that was your plan until now!” Hannah objected.</p><p> </p><p>Barbara scoffed. “Wait, that’s all this is? This is hardly <em> daring </em>; why do you two seem so hesitant?” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda felt her memories come together more cohesively now. “Y-Yeah, isn’t it just a library, er archive, whatever?” </p><p> </p><p>Ibrahim slowed briefly, raising a hand with a curled finger that signified his hesitancy. “It’s… complicated. The sanctum itself <em> is </em> that archive, but there’s more to it: Unofficially, the Sanctum has an extensive network of tunnels and passageways connecting it to chambers as far as two miles underground.” All three guffawed or gasped at such a claim, but when they looked at Ibrahim, who had paused briefly in his stride to address them, his face showed he was being deadly serious. “And it’s filled with who knows how many traps and creatures…. I don’t even know why the Nine Olde Witches or their apprentices would go to such lengths to hide such things away. Not even the libraries of the academy in Baghdad have a single source that references the Sanctum’s construction; it’s an enigma, one that’s usually best avoided.”</p><p> </p><p>Hannah blinked. “There’s a sister academy in Baghdad?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yes, but, well, not <em> sister </em> per say…. Look, we should focus on the task at hand.”  Ibrahim waved his hands in front of him dismissively as he started to walk forward again; by now they had just reached the stairs on the western side of the cafeteria vestibule. “I think the sanctum may hold, hopefully in it’s main chamber, spells that could help us break through the barrier holding us here. There has to be <em> something </em> useful down there…. There has to be.” Ibrahim repeated grimly, betraying his seemingly unbeatable optimism. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh… oh I don’t know if it’s a good idea to try and explore something like that so soon. I mean, you were just saying Amanda should rest up weren’t you?” Barbara knew of course he didn’t, but she felt it was implied at least. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be fine Babs, just… I need to think on it.” Amanda tried her best to sound reasonable, but in truth, her mind had already been made up. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know if we have time for that, Amanda.” Ibrahim turned his back to the door leading into the academy. “Believe me when I say that if I could take time to prepare for this, I would, and I would urge you to as well; the reality is that we can’t. Those witches could come at any moment. I intend to begin my explorations tomorrow… with or without… anyone really.” Ibrahim blew a pre-emptively regretful sigh. “It’s reckless, and if I get hurt or worse down there, my comrades are likely to fall into disarray, not to mention the staff and students. All we need is more unnecessary deaths.”</p><p> </p><p>“So that’s exactly why—” Barbara started. </p><p> </p><p>“We need to do it.” Hannah finished.</p><p> </p><p>“H-Hannah?” Amanda made a double take at her red headed lover, baffled by her sudden show of gumption; Hannah was always the fierier of the two nobles in the polycule, but this felt down right wrong to hear from Hannah. </p><p> </p><p>“You heard him! We could all die at any moment and you want to wait around? Nope, not doing it. You guys can waste your time if you want, but I’ll be taking charge like <em> I always end up having to </em>,” Hannah’s remark felt especially venomous, “And get things done with Ibrahim here.” Barbara shrank at that; she couldn’t hope to fight against Hannah’s orders, that was just the way of things for her. Amanda meanwhile threw her arms up defeatedly. </p><p> </p><p>“N-Now, Ms England, there’s nothing to be gained from infighting. We’ve made our case, but they have to come to their own conclusions. Besides, we won’t be alone, I’m sure of it.” Ibrahim reassured. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda hummed worriedly. “Well, who's coming with us then? You said your Antiquarian buddies were all busy?”</p><p> </p><p>“Glad you two understand what needs to be done then.” Hannah upturned her nose. </p><p> </p><p>“O-Oi, I didn’t—Oh whatever.” Amanda let her arms drop to her sides. </p><p> </p><p>Ibrahim tried his best to avoid any statements that could be used as ammo by either side. “Sucy; she’s already agreed. I made sure to meet with her first and ensure that this idea wasn’t wholly foolish.” He wasn’t denying there was definitely a bit of foolhardiness required to take it on though. “I didn’t catch her name, but then I met another witch. I bumped into her much like I did Ms England and Ms Parker here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Guess I was right about no one watching where they’re going… ow!” Hannah mumbled bitterly before yelping from a pinch and shushing stare Amanda sent her way.</p><p> </p><p>Ibrahim didn’t miss a beat at least. “I tried to ask what she was doing outside of her dorm, but she started bombarding me with questions faster than I could really process them. For such a small woman, she had quite the forceful personality.” Ibrahim chuckled, rubbing his chin. “I… may have slipped up in speaking of the sanctum, but as soon as she heard that she said she was interested in aiding our cause. Said something about getting her gear. Before I could even ask who she was, she bolted off…. And it’s quite hard to run with my wounds.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda perked up. “Ayy, with Constanze at our back, this should be <em> easy </em>.” Amanda was already feeling a thousand percent better about this. </p><p> </p><p>“You know her?” Ibrahim raised a brow before making the leap for himself. “Ahhh, yes I remember hearing about a small statured engineer among the new nine…. You don’t mind that title do you? It’s just easier to call you all that.” He smiled. </p><p> </p><p>The polycule shared looks between one another; none of them disliked the title, but they never cared for the title much to begin with. They all nodded and shrugged in the affirmative. </p><p> </p><p>Ibrahim clapped his hands together, having left his staff to lean on the door behind him. “Splendid. With you all assisting, I’m certain we won’t leave the sanctum empty handed. In the interest of time, I’ll see you near the west sewer entrances at six hundred sharp. Any objections?” Ibrahim was using his ‘commander’ voice now. </p><p> </p><p>There were no objections to be had, though Amanda was internally screaming at the idea of waking up before ten am, injuries or not. “Excellent.” Ibrahim smiled wider, glad beyond belief to have a clear path forward. “I’ll see you then.” He turned about and began to open the door, collecting his staff, but paused and glanced backward. “Oh, Amanda.” Amanda focused her attention. “The training is no doubt worthwhile, but please, we need you rested. I don’t know if I could handle a half awake witch navigating a trap filled labyrinth with us should it come to that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Yeah I get it.” Amanda’s voice had her seeming defeated; she still didn’t feel fully confident to do ‘enough,’ whatever ‘enough’ was. She just knew she couldn’t fail them, too much was at stake. “I’ll take it easy.” </p><p> </p><p>Ibrahim took the agreement in stride, and passed through the door silently, leaving the polycule to their own devices just outside. </p><p> </p><p>Hannah went to follow, but halted to make a few remarks. “And before you even say it, Amanda, we can handle ourselves.” Hannah looked to Barbara whose eyes held a similar lack of confidence found in Amanda. “Well, I know <em> I </em> can handle myself.” She held a prideful hand to her chest. </p><p> </p><p>“Hannah, for god’s sake give us a break.” Amanda stepped forward and brushed past Hannah, though she was halted by Haannah grabbing her arm. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t just ignore me!” Hannah stammered. </p><p> </p><p>“STOP!” Barbara shouted suddenly, and both Hannah and Amanda were left jolted by the noise. Barbara cleared her throat then and steadied her breath. “Just, stop…. I hate this, this fighting! I really, really hate it! Like, both of you…. It feels like you’re always at each other’s throats I swear.” Barbara looked at her feet pensively. “Amanda, please just apologize and say you’ll trust us. And Hannah <em> you </em> apologize for being… a bitch! You’re just being a huge bitch and it’s exhausting!” If there was ever a time for Barbara to have a self-aware moment, it was now, and luckily, her demands were very effective. </p><p> </p><p>Hannah let go of Amanda’s arm and backed away. “I’m sorry….” She looked inward and past Amanda all at once. The round shape of the cafeteria had the window reflecting an image of the gathering back at them; partly open mouth, wide but not terribly so eyes, the slightest hint of a tremble. <em> “Damnit all.” </em> Hannah thought to herself. Neither her rude tone nor critical eye had left her visage, but she was trying her best to not be, as Barbara put it, ‘a bitch.’ “I’ve just been in a really terrible place all day…. I didn’t say it before but uh… I also wanted to just be around you guys. I think… we just need to try and get along tonight. I’d really appreciate that.”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Hannah and Barbaras’ eyes then drifted to Amanda, who was found gripping her fists lightly and staring at the ground. Eventually she started speaking again:</p><p> </p><p>“I know you guys can handle stuff, but this is—”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmmmm!” Barbara leaned in humming accusatively. </p><p> </p><p>“I just mean—”</p><p> </p><p>“MMM!” Barbara wasn’t having it anymore today. </p><p> </p><p>“Ok, ok, I’m sorry!” </p><p> </p><p>Barbara raised a brow expectantly; she wanted a better apology. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m really, genuinely sorry for doubting you guys sometimes; I mean, even when I don’t mean to…! I don’t like, actively try to, you know… but well, I’m usually the one dealing with stuff like this. I choose to. It just feels wrong to make you guys get involved if you don’t have to.” Amanda fumbled for words, but the point made its way across all the same. </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you.” Barbara pulled herself back as to not be in Amanda’s face, quickly inhaled and exhaled, and spoke with a good deal less force. “Then let’s actually get along tonight, in spite of it all. Maybe we can… maybe tomorrow we’ll have a better hold of things and…. And it’ll all be better.” Barbara was nothing if not optimistic, if desperate for a sense of normalcy. </p><p> </p><p>All three of them shared somewhat forced smiles that slowly turned genuine; the collective weights bearing down on them easing for a time. Amanda ushered Hannah and Amanda inside with a half shrug, her other arm pushing the door open. “Alright, come on. No good just standing here doting, heh.” There was no more hesitation to be had; all of them were eager to try for at least one night's worth of good rest. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>Chaos had been falling for centuries, days, hours, millennium; time escaped her ever since the blade of that damnable flamingo haired witch pierced her right eye. Time held no weight to her anymore, to The Original, The Child, or any of the damned souls that comprised Chaos’ being. She could feel all of her voices shatter and reverberate, everything felt bright and vibrant; her vision was an endless kaleidoscope of terror, visions of pain and death from every life she’d subsumed and lived, the worst of course being the very first. </p><p> </p><p>Chaos could not even fully tell where she was. She felt like she was falling, like her body was headed down a great well where her soul and mangled body would never be found; there would be no such mercy. </p><p> </p><p>She came to her senses as suddenly as she lost them, and found she was laid on the floor of that black emptiness she and the other Fates called ‘home.’ Whether this was a mere trick of her own addled mind, lulling her into a false sense of security, or the grim reality that she was slipping ever farther from her humanity as to question every moment's veracity, Chaos could not nor dared to know. </p><p> </p><p>Her frail form weakly pushed itself off of the invisible ground, her arms trembled, and she immediately began to cough and hack. Her hands felt strangely wet, as did the side of her face, and when Chaos had risen to a kneeling position, she investigated the strangeness by brushing her cheek. Upon examining the hand, it was covered in a black bile, hardly discernible from the abyss that surrounded her in all directions. Chaos shuddered and scrambled away; her condition was growing worse. </p><p> </p><p>The dagger in her eye aided it not, for from her wound no blood flowed, but more of that wicked ichor. Hastily, Chaos grabbed the handle in both hands and began to yank on it hard. A second of struggle passed as she cried and sobbed in agony before ultimately screaming when the blade came free. It clattered to the floor as Chaos lacked the strength of mind or body to hold it; her palms went to cover the gaping wound where her eye once was, and instead of flesh she felt chitin and slime. </p><p> </p><p>It was as she feared, her host body was succumbing to the curse that ontologically marked her; the price for her power. With every transformation, with every grand spell cast, and with every mortal wound or should kill any mortal, Chaos lost another piece of herself. </p><p> </p><p>The curse was more like a sickness of the soul: It manifested physically, with time passing, she would look more and more like her “true” self, but more concerningly, her psychosis and delusions would grow more intense. She had never allowed it to consume more than half of her being; she always discarded the host body before it got to that point in some suicidal attempt at enacting revenge or by lashing out at the world wantonly, only to find another victim to The Fate’s quest sometime after. </p><p> </p><p>It was a tiresome ailment to tend to, but one that Chaos had grown accustomed to until recently: It was progressing more quickly now with every new host. She was being forced to subsume and take on more hosts than any of the other three fates. <em> “How many times….” </em> Her internal voices dirged in mortuary unison. “HOW MANY TIMES!?” The body choked out in a bile filled gurgle, acting in defiance of the master that inhabited it. There was no answer to be given, perhaps there never would be. </p><p> </p><p>Chaos sobbed and trembled as quaking earth, her mind assessing the damage. She could tell just by how it felt this time that more was being taken than her temporary memory; the memories of the countless souls. The Original’s memory was being threatened now, the sickness had grown not just to follow her soul but to infect her very consciousness across all bodies. A new host might not save her this time.</p><p> </p><p>Chaos thought back to what memories she could dig up from her original life, praying that remembering them now may save them later: She was a priestess once; then an oracle, no, <em> The </em> Oracle. Her “gift;” future sight, precognition, messages from the gods, whatever one might call it. Too blessed to be among the public, she was taken in by a sorceress named… named… <em> “Curse this wretched existence! Name! What was her name!” </em>It never came; Chaos beat the floor in a fit of rage, splashing the black ichor onto herself where it melded with her robes. </p><p> </p><p>“Fifth! Fifth of Nine! She was the Fifth!” Chaos sputtered and looked skyward as if awakening from a lucid dream. The Fifth taught her the ways of navigating her power; the arts of divination. Chaos was warned of the dangers, but desperate times… what desperate times? <em> “Why? Why did I seek it…. What </em> — <em> ” </em></p><p> </p><p>Her memory was cut short by the intrusion of others.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my, oh my!” Cause began, looming above Chaos in a lazy float. “T’would seem our sister has,” Effect continued, rising from behind Chaos like a stalking butler with mischievous hands digging into her shoulders. “Nearly fallen again.” Giggling ensued. </p><p> </p><p>Chaos gasped, hiding her face briefly if only to call upon illusory magics to hide the transformations; her sisters knew of her ailment, but not the full extent of it’s effects on her mind and soul. “A wound! Wound merely it is! Living life alive!” She hissed, allowing her hands to reveal a completely normal looking wound.</p><p> </p><p>“How you worry us, Chaos!” Cause feigned fainting, holding an arm up to her forehead like a stage actor. </p><p> </p><p>“Truly, those stripplings did <em> this </em> to you?” Effect lurched close, examining the wound with macabre fascination. Chaos pulled away, fearful they may sense the glamour, even if they were well aware of how Chaos mutated. </p><p> </p><p>“Difficult… to… fight back when… The Pact….” Chaos was slowly regaining her ability to speak coherently, but every word still felt wrong. </p><p> </p><p>Will, for once protecting Chaos, blinked between The Twins and the wounded Fate in a flash of light. “Cease your taunting! A wound made by the witches following the Deceivers’ teachings is never one to be mocked.” She spun around after Cause and Effect had retreated, and looked to Chaos. “We do hope you’ve not grown sloppy in your…. Chaos….” Will’s tone transformed into one that seemed especially inquisitive. </p><p> </p><p>“W-What!? What do you want?” Chaos rose shakily to her feet, eyes uneasily meeting Will’s own. </p><p> </p><p>“We no longer sense The Child within you…. We’re not sure what you’ve done, nor how, but you’ve done well.” Will nodded. “Was your banishing of her a temporary solution, or have you perhaps discovered something worth sharing?”</p><p> </p><p>“T-Temporary… unknown?” Chaos shook her head furiously before she held her temples. “Painful. It was so very painful….” She wasn’t even sure herself what she was referencing now. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm… We will observe then how this ploy of yours works out. More importantly….” Will sized up the wound on Chaos’ face. “That wound, the witches of Luna Nova <em> were </em> the ones to give it to you, yes?” Chaos nodded, earning a piercing glare from Will. “Then did you fail Us?”</p><p> </p><p>“No! No, no, no, no! Success! The trap is sprung, sprang! Promises! Promising you! Had promised!” Chaos lurched in trying to step forward, coughing up more of that terrible bile. The Twins recoiled and remarked disgustedly at the stuff. “Apologies…. The Pact’s power….” Chaos began to try and make an excuse, but was cut short.</p><p> </p><p>“You need not explain. Simply ensure that your injury does not hinder you long. We have been given a reprieve in light of our collective victories. If that spell of yours holds as true as you claimed it would, then Luna Nova shall face a force more shattering than any it has before…. Even should Vengeance fail to win the day, should our desires go unsatisfied, Luna Nova shall not be able to recover. Our enemies will be weaker for it; the killing blow can be made shortly after. </p><p> </p><p>Chaos fell to one knee out of weakness, but a smile managed to barely form on her marred face; finally, an end to their hunt was drawing near. Perhaps with that, Chaos could be free of her curse.</p><p> </p><p>“To think it could be over so soon! So suddenly!” Cause pouted. </p><p> </p><p>“So suddenly! Is there not more to do? Greater threats?” Effect argued. </p><p> </p><p>Will nodded solemnly. “You are not incorrect to be wary of the other institutions erected by our old foes, those traitors, but fret not.” Will examined her palm and called forth magics from deep within; on her held-out hand, the sigil of power granted to her by The Pact glowed fiercely, and with the summoned force, she managed to hurl an orb of light to hang above them.</p><p> </p><p> The great orb depicted the seal of the Grand Triskelion, eight shadowy witches, all bearing vastly different attires with effects originating from cultures around the world, and a ninth witch, horned like a buck, standing at the head of the procession. All of their faces were hidden, but The Fates, save Chaos, knew them all by name, identifying each just from a glance; some were friends, mentors, even lovers. </p><p> </p><p>“With the head of the serpent removed, the rest shall fade into obscurity; their legacies lost to time, forgotten.” Will spoke of the Buck-Horned Witch. “It held the secrets of Yggdrasil, and those secrets lay hidden at Luna Nova. The Claimh Solas still resides there as well, no doubt in the hands of one of those Nine Witches who foiled our plan years ago.” The imagery of the bright orb changed to show hazy shapes of nine young witches; their faces were obscured. “The Pursuer has ensured Us well…. With the destruction of just one of The Deceivers' pawns, their collective doom will be assured, and no future shall be possible where magic lives to see the next decade on Earth.”</p><p> </p><p>“You spoke to it?” Chaos queried while rising once more with an astonished look. “Speaking only to Us? Could it always?”</p><p> </p><p>Will understood enough of what Chaos was asking. “Only recently; you would have done well to not question Our time spent meditating. It has served Us well. We do not understand its words as clearly as you, but We see visions. We are certain that is what it is trying to tell Us.” Will focused on the great orb above once more; it projected images of ruined buildings: They were grand halls, temples, academies and homes for teaching the olde ways; they were dust now. “Four have fallen before us already, and with the fifth, the remaining four in hiding shall all fade to black.”</p><p> </p><p>Cause and Effect began to giggle and cackle gleefully, speaking in unison. “Ohhh! We love it when a plan comes together! Perhaps our patron might be kind enough to allow us to deal the killing blow personally? Might you beseech it?” They should be careful what they wish for. </p><p> </p><p>Chaos stammered an objection. “The Pacts’ rulings are f-f-final! I pe—We, We penned them ourselves!” She managed to avoid reprimand, though earned a glare from Will for her slip-up. “We should do what we must and be done with this business!” Her words conveyed too much worry, and Will was quick to pick up on it. </p><p> </p><p>“How uncharacteristically prudent of you. Do tell Us, are you perhaps… nervous?” When Chaos felt unease, it always preceded disaster for the Fates; Will would not forget that soon.</p><p> </p><p>“Y-Yes… but… only because We came close to breaking the rules ourselves. Powerful!” Chaos waved her hands up, hoping to explain herself. “The witches of Luna Nova are powerful! Not to be underestimated…. And they have aid, aid from… Is… Ishtar! That was her! The Second! Her agents remain, but unlike before, they are more aware of our power; they do not hold back!” </p><p> </p><p>Cause and Effect shared curious glares. “Perhaps there is more work to be done yet?” Cause queried her twin. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm… shall we wager on it?” Effect chuckled. “Surely even those lecherous vampires couldn’t fail with the strength we have provided them could they?”</p><p> </p><p>Cause chided mockingly. “Never doubt the impotence of an aristocrat!” The twins fell into giggling fits.</p><p> </p><p>“Doubt! You two hold such doubt but secured their aid regardless?” Chaos hissed, wringing her hands. “Why do We face inquisition for Our magic yet you two are not questioned for a poor choice in allies?” She spat black-bile in one last cough, having fallen back down to her knees. “We warned you of dealing with the entitled dead.” Her words trailed from her lips weakly.</p><p> </p><p>Will spoke over them, silencing their prattle. “Loathe them all you will, Chaos; for once We can agree with you on something. Their ability to succeed in fully exterminating the witches of Luna Nova is worth investigating, but We are certain that by measure of their combined strength, that this endeavor will not leave us empty handed at the bare minimum.” Will closed her palm that was wreathed in magic, allowing the bright orb above to dissipate into stardust. “And should they be <em> too </em> successful in their objectives, we can exterminate them together once all of this is said and done; if it would entreat you to behave.” </p><p> </p><p>Will extended a hand. “Now stand up properly. We’ve been kind enough to tolerate your fragile state for this long, but we won’t suffer to pity you much longer.” </p><p> </p><p>Chaos thought long and hard on the words she’d been told. The matter of destroying the Bathorys was a trifling affair by comparison to actually claiming victory. Would Chaos <em> actually </em> be free? Would her affliction fade? Was there even a cure? And what of The Child? She had not sent her away literally; her presence simply <em> left </em>, but to where? All things Chaos would hope to answer sooner rather than later. She accepted the hand, glad to receive a moment’s mercy from Will of all people, and rose to stand as strongly as she could. “V-Very well…. We apologize for that weakness.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmmm, accepted. Now go and treat your wounded self; you serve The Pact little in that state.” Will dismissed her with a lazy wave as she turned to Cause and Effect. “We would demand you two depart as well. We seek to meditate on the coming storm. In private.” </p><p> </p><p>The Twins groaned, rolling their eyes in opposite directions. “Fiiiine….” They intoned together before sliding backward into nothingness, slowly at first, and then impossibly fast.</p><p> </p><p>Chaos sighed, relieved to have time to seek her own answers. “Very well, Will. Call on Us w-when our day of reckoning is nigh.”  She did her best to sound confident, but that weakness in her soul would not leave her so easily. </p><p> </p><p>“We shall.” Will sat down delicately, breathing in with great focus. “Now go.” </p><p> </p><p>Chaos bowed carefully as to not fall over, and slowly walked away into the distant abyss. To herself, The Original’s mind spoke: <em> “I have not come this far to die now.” </em> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><hr/><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Embers Stirred | Legacies Revealed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey everyone; wanted to get something important out of the way quick!</p><p>Due to the higher traffic the sites getting, AO3 is NOT recording the "hits" from readers that aren't logged in. IE, guests. If you don't have an account but are enjoying the fic and want to show me your enjoying it, leave me a Kudos so I know your here! Or, honestly, better yet, make an account and make sure you're logged in so I can see the accurate hit counts. Remember, if your NOT logged in, the site WON'T register your hits for the fic; and to me, hits mean a lot. Its a sign of your continued reading and enjoyment, and it really gives me life to see you coming back/see new folks coming around! </p><p>With that out of the way, despite being sick/quarantined all week, I can GLADLY say I'm not covid positive. I got to get out of work and focus almost wholly on my writing, so that's why this chapter's here so ahead of schedule! </p><p>Finally, a reminder that I have a tumblr where I post some updates and reblog art/stuff that is related to LWA fics or inspires me to write!</p><p>Here's the link! https://karmotrinedreams91.tumblr.com/</p><p>Hope you enjoy this chapter! It's quite long compared to my normal stuff, but I'm REALLY HAPPY with how it came out. I hope you can agree!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>
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</p><p>
  <span>Undirected rage, not all consuming, but inescapable; like the roiling waters of a disturbed sea. Nikolai was restless. He was as the blackened clouds that engulfed Castle Bathory: Thundering and storming, but contained, masking a greater fury. The storm hid the floating castle, and Nikolai’s rage hid… something. He needed to know it before he could act upon it, that need for something unknown. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was stood upon the balcony of his personal spire which hosted his personal quarters, a treasury, and sparring room. Everything about the castle had been catered to the delights of all the nobles who might dwell within, and Nikolai’s station was no different, but no joy came from it. He could hardly feel comfortable removing much of his armor, and was hunched over with a tight grip against the stone guard rails, deep in contemplation. He was certain: There was no relief nor relaxation to had; no merriment to be made when he had felt not only snubbed by The Fates in currying favor with his queen and mother, but more importantly, when Nikolai had left a job unfinished. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That uneasy and upsetting feeling lingered over Nikolai ever since he’d returned from Ludinghal; one of the von Braunchsbanks remained, and he was intent on correcting that. The more he thought on that matter though the more he became dissatisfied. There was no doubt in his mind that the last of the reviled bloodline was indeed a child, or at best, was a woman who had just come into maturity; it sickened him to think about the kill. Nikolai had no reservations about slaying children; he would not </span>
  <em>
    <span>drink</span>
  </em>
  <span> from the young, but their lives were always forfeit should his queen or cause demand it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even then, Nikolai could not recall a case in which he took undo pleasure in slaying one, personally or otherwise. They, like the lives of most peasants and unworthy folk, had always been forfeit to the whims of their </span>
  <em>
    <span>rightful</span>
  </em>
  <span> masters; their age had nothing to do with that. But they were always still just children, too young to know why or how these things were a occuring; too naive to know why punishment was due, and too unskilled to be of use otherwise. A child of a family culled could only ever die on it’s own, or become a vengeance fueled threat later. Nikolai knew that to be true because he and Katalin, along with three other less notable children of Elizabeth were the very embodiment of that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With their queen and mother imprisoned, her powers, and by extension theirs, stripped, Nikolai and Katalin could do not but plot and scheme to one day return with avengence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Four hundred years….” Nikolai regarded the magnificently gothic castle; the fear it’s very architecture commanded from the meek, the dread of it’s looming above all creation, the inevitability of it’s approach. “And it is not enough…. Not enough to do as we have done! As we wanted!” Nikolai pushed off of the rails and made for his chambers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After pushing past the draped curtains that seperated the balcony from the room itself, Nikolai sneered at the homunculus artist that he’d requested earlier. “And not even you can satisfy me! You </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> have not finished your work?” Nikolai held a hand to his head before extending it outward in disbelief. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sickly green skinned and hunchback cretin whimpered; it was a stitched amalgam of body parts that were unwanted by the more fiercely palleted beasts that now roamed the castle halls. “M-Master! You, you, you, you must understand! T-T-Too-Too great is the majesty you wish me to depict for it to be made in haste!” It raised its two left hands that were smudged with all kinds of paints and oils in defence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh stow your bootlicking excuses; honestly you sicken me more than the rats….” Nikolai approached slowly, cracking each of his knuckles individually out of boredom. “I’ve asked you to depict our clan’s defeat; the great battle at Čachtice. What is majestic about my family's ruin?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“M-Majestic in your defence of rightful rule your emin—ENCE!” The lecherous thing was thrown aside with a shove from Nikolai who went to more thoroughly investigate the artist's progress. For a thing with two left hands and a questionably sized brain; it was quite the painter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmmm…. A rightly gloomy pallet; but resplendently bright where it is needed most. Yes it’s exactly the sort of dichotomy I was hoping for from this piece….” Nikolai held a stiff upper lip as he admired the work in progress. It felt strange to him still that he had even requested a painting of this event, but he could not deny the burning nostalgia in his gut. He and his family may have lost that day, but never before had Nikolai felt that he was well and truly tested, both physically and spiritually. Such an event deserved, no, needed to be immortalized so that Nikolai would never forget what he came to know that day, and how the enemies of the modern world paled in comparison to the ones the Bathorys met long ago. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could recall even the most granular details with photographic clarity: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two armies had assembled; one came from the east, made of militiamen, bannerless knights and seekers of glory, but most of all, the army was full of the gentry armed with whatever weapon they could grab or fashion. They’d all been roused to fury and action by those meddling sorcerers and witches from far flung and local lands. A host of indigo and gold clad witches was leading the masses, having taken charge as the de-facto leaders of the mortal army. Meanwhile, to the north of Čachtice, a united front of Fae assembled under the banners of a magical coven sworn to protect the interests of the fair folk on Earth; they’d all gathered to see the rightful reign of the Bathorys brought to an end. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castle Čachtice was left only to its garrison of devout warriors and servants; the cabal of necromancers in service to her majesty ensured that each soldier was worth two at minimum, and the nightly lords could easily cut swathes through regiments of lay-folk without a thought. Even so, Nikolai knew from the start of it all that the forces of righteous rulership were at a disadvantage. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The painting depicted the set up perfectly, with the two armies charging forth, shown as the </span>
  <em>
    <span>barbarous</span>
  </em>
  <span> hordes that they were, with the castle defenders forming rings of zealous steel to receive the attack. A flock of cherubs had been artistically inserted above the defenders’ ranks, holding aloft a parchment streamer that read </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Heaven can wait!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> in an older Hungarian script. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course, no painting could capture the actual feelings of being present at that ruinous battle. Nikolai could feel his hatred and rage for the invaders bubbling up to reform in his memories, but most vividly of all the recollected thoughts were those of the duels he had gotten into with the mysterious hunters. They’d not come with the invading armies; they were more like assassins who’d somehow bypassed the defences before the armies had even clashed. Six came in total, but Nikolai only came to ever face two of them, and they were fierce warriors indeed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was they who nearly delivered Nikolai until his final death; a German man who he came to later know as Emanuel Katzen Von Braunchsbank, and an Irish woman whose name never came to be known. They faced off in the throne room alongside the four other hunters against Elizabeth and her honour guard, Nikolai included.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai briefly came back to reality, rubbing at the seared burn wound on his neck; he recalled the flaming blade the Irish hunter wielded, before slipping back into his vivid daydreams.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Where Nikolai had gained an advantage against Emanuel at first, the Irish woman intervened and forced Nikolai to change his focus. She was a storm of blade-strikes; Nikolai had no way of keeping track of both of them. Instead of facing Nikolai together though, Emanuel slipped by unnoticed through the carnage and held Elizabeth at sword-point. With his blade just an inch from piercing her heart, Lady Bathory forced the hunters hand by giving them an ultimatum: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Should she die here and now, her forces would charge out and slay as many of the rebelling peasantry as they could; the vampires too would abandon the defence in favor of slaughter, and the blood of the fallen would stain their hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In exchange for surrender, Lady Bathory would have herself magically sealed in the tower of the castle, but her clan would go free and fade into the shadows; both parties agreed, and now the Bathorys stood today, resplendent. Though Nikolai could not speak directly to his sire with such a treacherous tongue, part of him hated every fiber of Elizabeth’s being for such a concession, even if it had allowed them to recoup. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It reminded him of the mortal lords that ruled the lands all across the Earth; when faced with defeat and resistance, they chose concessions over conviction. They stood for nothing but their own temporary rule, and Nikolai, after being blessed with the immortality and power of vampirism, would not see his family fall from grace ever again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“M-Master? Does it please ye?” The wretched artist interrupted his thoughts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?” Nikolai quickly turned his head and rose to full stand. “It does, but your presence does not! Leave before I am forced to throw you from the spire!” The thing eeped and shrieked in response, scampered away on all fives, and sloppily tumbled down the stone steps of the tower. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When its echoing sobs faded, Nikolai slowly exhaled in tired frustration as he reclined into a fine armchair; he wasn’t done reminiscing just yet. “So why…? Why does that failure haunt me so?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t even fully sure if the actual failure to the best the hunters was what haunted him, but the aftermath that followed. The forces that won the day at Čachtice did not even claim the greater victory for the causes they fought for: The common folk were none the freer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Within just a century, monarchs world wide began to lose grip of their subjects; anarchy began to reign, and from the ashes of rightful and godly rule came the feckless and sinful rulership of the markets. The new orders stood for nothing but self perpetuation and profit; there was no moral weight that came with wearing a crown. Mankind was gripped in moratorium. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm….” Nikolai pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes as his introspection became more intense. He spoke his thoughts aloud: “Vengeance demanded their deaths…. I do truly hate them, but they fought for what they believed in with fervor… with zeal!” Nikolai looked across to the balcony as a harrowing wind blew wide the curtains; his eyes narrowed on Katalin’s tower. “It’s more than I can say for some.” His chest deflated and he shook his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The scheming and conniving of his sister grated on him, and her dubious alliances built on deception only further sullied the royal legacy the Bathorys had. Whatever the Fates stood for was unknown to him, and if they had been sent to fight on their behalf, no matter how much it would benefit Elizabeth and her cause, Nikolai couldn’t help but ruminate nervously on what great goal they were working toward. Nikolai loathed magic and the witches that wielded it, the Fates especially, but all he could want for now in the coming battle was an enemy whom he could respect.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If they were to fail, no matter how unlikely he thought that to be, Nikolai would want it to be at the hands of a righteous enemy, not a treacherous interloper. Nikolai could only think of the Fates as just that, interlopers. “If there is ever a time for my intuition to be proven wrong, it is now.” He breathed measuredly, each rise in his chest being accompanied by a low growl and grunt that suppressed his rage further. His arms relaxed to fit the molds on the rests of the chair and his large form sank deeper into the cushion. He loathed this comfort when his spirit ached for conflict and resolution.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could only wait and pray; much like the trapped witches. Wait, and pray. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can sense your unease, Manbavaran.” Ibrahim murmured as he led the assembled group from the front, just behind Sucy; torch in one hand and staff in the other. “If you're not feeling you can continue beyond showing us there, I won’t fault you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy was almost formlessly lithe with how shut in she’d made herself with her cloak, not even her head or hair was visible; it had all been tucked into the hood she was sporting. Her footsteps could not be registered by the eye, but she was certainly moving forward, almost sliding across the stone. “Stop asking. That’s three times now. The answer’s still the same. I’m fine.” Sucy did not deign to turn or raise her voice to be heard, Ibrahim already knew the answer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right.” Ibrahim cleared his throat and thought better on approaching Sucy with concerns. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Best to let her come to me.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He reasoned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Almost there.” Sucy lazily called out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hannah and Barbara were the first two behind Ibrahim and were covering their faces from the nose down by burying themselves in their shirts; the smell of the sewers was as rank as ever. Muffeldly, Hannah barked back. “Almost!? It all looks like the same frickin’ sewer passages to me!? Have we been going in a circle?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Barbara could only groan. “Please tell me your right, Sucy. I’m getting sick.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And behind them, Constanze and Amanda had taken up the rear. “Not a circle. We went forty two meters west. Now sixty meters north north west; forty degree curvature.” Constanze remarked curtly, unphased by the smell, or at least not showing it. She was wearing a yellow hard hat with a light fixed to it, and had her signature caster-blaster firearm strapped over her shoulder like a hunting rifle alongside a heavy rucksack. To say her caster-blaster had been given a few upgrades over the past twenty four hours would be an understatement; it could easily relieve someone of their head, and had a grappling hook slotted beneath the barrel for this particular expedition.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda was holding up her wand with a luminous spell helping to brighten the group's path forward. “Sheesh; you can just tell by looking?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t?” Constanze raised an unimpressed eyebrow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I swear you're going to get hurt one time and all that’s gonna come out is wires and motor oil.” Amanda hip-bumped Constanze, which practically was a hip to shoulder bump due to the height difference. Constanze stumbled and then growled. She pulled her hard hat down tightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few minutes silence passed then. “Mhm. This is it.” Sucy came to a halt suddenly, leaving everyone else to almost trip over themselves. “Right here.” Sucy lightly tapped an inconspicuous and wholly average patch of cobbled wall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Here? Just, here?” Amanda looked around, expecting a specific stone to be loose or for a faded magical symbol to line the walls; like in the movies she’d seen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?” Constanze grunted, equally confused, and pushed up to the front past the impatiently waiting duo of Hannah and Barbara. Upon coming up beside Ibrahim and Sucy, she set her rucksack down and unveiled what looked like a small explosive device. “Hmm.” Constanze grunted as a question. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-Wait now, I don’t think we need to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> drastic!” Ibrahim laughed nervously; the new nine were really quite an… interesting bunch. “Right?” He turned to Sucy to confirm his hunch and assuage his fears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe if they changed the mana-lock.” Sucy cracked her neck, then her knuckles, and then her back, all in a manner that could only be described as Sucy-like; it was somewhat uncomfortable to watch from Hannah and Barbara’s perspective. Sucy then dug her wand out and slowly dragged it along the stone wall until the tip had reached the direct center. “If I’m remembering correctly….” Her words preceded a sharp inhale followed by a flurry of motions; Sucy’s wand holding hand was writing away into the stone like a frenzied poet, though she carved no limericks or rhymes, but a complex rune of unknown origin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The closest comparison that could be drawn had it vaguely resembling the symbol for pi, though it sported specific numbers of dashes on each individual line, with one extra line cutting through the center. Alongside this, three separate spirals, one drawn at the very peak of the design, and two at the bottom corners, came together and formed an isosceles triangle that contained the pi like symbol. It was dizzying to look at, such that details appeared to change with every blink, and were inconsistent between viewers. The only exact details that remained consistent were the spirals, triangle, and general pi shape, along with the color of the drawn lines being a bright blue and white.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When it was completed, Sucy breathed heavily and let her wand wielding arm go slack, as if having just succeeded in disarming a bomb “There. That’s it.” The rune of power immediately began to emit a low humming, like a heavy bass, as the stone groaned and crackled. The wall shifted and disassembled itself neatly, revealing a small pitfall that was being filled by the same bricks the wall was made of, leading to a door adorned in botanical sculptures; vines, flowers, and roots along the frame.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And they put this kinda stuff where all the sewage goes!? Seriously?” Hannah chided. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Barbara followed up, similarly baffled and displeased. “Could they really have not found somewhere more sanitary?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Guess they didn’t think of plumbing when the place was made.” Amanda scratched at the back of her head before she looked at everyone else who had been briefly frozen in thought. “We gonna go in, or just gawk at it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes. We’ll tarry no more. Come on.” Ibrahim took charge, beckoning with his torch wielding hand as he began through the doorway and then down the steep stone stairs; everyone took to follow, with Hannah and Barbara going first, Constanze behind them, and Sucy to follow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy was stopped however by a gentle nudge from Amanda. “Hey, Su.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We are </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> on a nickname basis, O’Neill.” Sucy jabbed Amanda in the chest with a forceful finger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda leaned back at the touch, raising her eyebrows. “Alright, fine; god, I swear no one can…. Whatever.” Amanda shook her head, returning to an upright position. “I just wanted to make sure—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you ask me about if I’m alright to go down there, I’m going to shove this beaker so far—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oi! Are you two coming!?” Hannah shouted back having noticed Amanda’s absence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In a minute Hannah!” Amanda reassured.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok!” Hannah’s voice faded into the sanctum proper.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright; first, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to ask you that. I was going to ask if, you know, the library part of this dusty ass sanctum is actually safe. I mean, that’s where that shit happened with the cinder fae right?” Amanda cut right to the chase, and it was clear all she wanted as a simple answer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmmmm….” Sucy thought about it, raising a finger to her chin. “I dunno. You think paper cuts are dangerous?” She asked while beginning to slither on down the stairs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“H-Hey! I was being serious!” Amanda chased after in a hurried walk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well; use your head. I know it’s hard for you—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh shove it!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As long as you don’t go reading incantations you don’t know and don’t try to cast crazy spells, everything will be fine…. Unless you read </span>
  <em>
    <span>the book</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Sucy made sure that the last line came off as though she were telling a ghost story around a campfire. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“T-The book?” Amanda fell for the joke easily. “What book?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh. You know.” Sucy giggled, taking great pleasure in what humor she could have; it distracted her from the bad memories that came with being down here. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda froze up before scowling bitterly. “Enough fuckin’ around Sucy! You know what, if I end up going crazy from reading some evilnomicon bullshit, I’m blaming you.” Amanda pushed passed a quietly cackling Sucy with a half serious shove, though Sucy paid no mind to the rude gesture. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After having moved past Sucy, Amanda hurried inside to the sanctum archives. Ibrahim, Constanze, Hannah, and Barbara were in a semi-circle, looking outward at the room in exploratory curiosity. “Well; this is it. The Sanctum of The Nine.” Ibrahim intoned flatly, hiding his conflicting hesitations and curiosities. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The chamber before them was massive and in the shape of an oval with twelve shelf high bookcases and sconches on the walls that suspiciously had unburnt torches within them. Similarly, fine wax candles of all sorts of colors lined the room on the floor and on desks, each barely burnt. Without either lit, the room was hard to look into given the heavy clouds of dust that were kicked up with every quick motion and object disturbed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The shelves were filled to the brim with tomes and scrolls from times gone by, each shelf marked by lunar script to date and categorize the subject matter. On the floor, some wayward pieces of literature could be found, having fallen away from the overpacked shelves; some looked to have been left that way for decades. Surprisingly though, each book was in good enough condition if partly faded; no silverfish or moths could be found eating away at the papers or their bindings, and not a single rat was in sight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This was just the main chamber though; two doorways, one to the group’s left opened up into a large alchemy lab, dueling floor for witches inclined to practice their spell-slinging, and queerly enough, a lounge. The one on the right though was smaller, but contained another smaller library and another sectioned off chamber holding beds, desks, simple drawers, like a sort of dormitory. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy came into the main room, drolly remarking. “Just as dusty and boring as I remember. At least in appearance.” She rolled her shoulders before sliding between Hannah and Barbara. “We’ll find what we want in here, mostly, but it’s not a bad idea to check out the other rooms I guess. Do whatever you want. Just don’t try and cast anything you don’t understand. Got it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was common sense, so everyone nodded along or shrugged. In response, Sucy sized them all up, scanned the room, and then nodded herself. “Good. I’m going to keep an eye on the entrance. Scream if you need me.” She then pushed past them all again and slid back up the stairs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm…. Hope she’s ok.” Constanze muttered, to which Amanda and Ibrahim both sighed in agreement. “Work to do.” Constanze turned to the group and set down her rucksack. “Mhmm.” She grunted and pointed a finger and dragged it across the horizon of the room., leaving all but Amanda confused. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda took up the role of translator as she began lighting up the candles with the magical light on her wand dancing from one wick to another. “She wants to know who's going where; best we spread out and cover more ground with how many books there are.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Barbara hummed thoughtfully as she shuffled in place. “Where should we even start? Just trying to find a powerful counter spell? Luna Lana didn’t do anything to the dome, but maybe we just need something stronger?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim pressed forward, lighting up the torches with his own to give the room even more luminosity. “Aye, that sounds like a good idea. In the meantime, Ms England.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” Hannah turned her head, having already gone to one of the bookshelves and pulled a tome at random to read. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want you searching for anything detailing spells that could open up a temporary path through the ley lines; I have a hunch that while teleportation magic doesn’t work, since the school is right on a ley line, we should have a strong enough connection to slip through it unhindered.” Ibrahim spun about and then grinned sheepishly, trying to stay serious. “And… and perhaps you’d do better searching a different section.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eh?” Hannah leered at the labeling of the book. The title read: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“THE CULINARY CRAFT OF HEXLINGS; A Guide to All Accursed Drinks and Foods.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Hannah pulled back, blinking in surprise. “What the hell is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>cookbook</span>
  </em>
  <span> doing down here!?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda leaned over as she passed by. “Hey, grab that for Sucy, maybe she’d like it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze perked up as she dug through her tools; the prospect of getting Sucy a gift, danger or no, was very enticing. “Give.” She called out commandingly to Hannah. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhhh, sure?” Hannah looked over the book once more before tossing it to Constanze who stowed it away. “But, come on let’s stay focused.” Hannah examined the shelf she’d grabbed that book from and shook her head; the section was titled: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Forbidden Fruits | Extreme Magicked and Arcane Foods.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Hannah moved on to searching other shelves carefully, grumbling to herself in baffled frustration. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Barbara joined Hannah in the bookshelf just beside her. “I-I’ll try and look for some spells that could help defend us against those witches! Ok?” She called out to Ibrahim. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not a bad idea Ms Parker!” Ibrahim had already found himself eyeball deep in a scroll he thought could be useful. “Ms Albrechtsberger!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Frau Von Braunschbank Albrechtsberger.” Constanze curtly corrected. “Just use Constanze.” She added, feeling a distaste in basing associated with her family out of grief and resentment. While speaking, she fished out a tool belt fitted with hammers, chisels, and other effects useful on an archeological dig. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Got it. I know you’re not much of a scholar, but I see you’ve brought a good deal of spelunking equipment. Why don’t you see if you can find us a safe way down into the labyrinths, should the archives prove useless to us.” Ibrahim looked up from his scroll, rolling it up neatly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm.” Constanze grunted, gathered her tools, and started toward the alchemy and lounge room, expecting an entrance to be there if anywhere. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And Amanda, since the only room left unaccounted for seems to be that one,” Ibrahim pointed to the dormitories. “You should check it out. And be thorough; whoever stayed down here last could have left something interesting behind.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda had mostly come as protection, she hardly expected to be of much use having assumed all they’d be doing is digging through ancient texts, so she was glad to be of use until things inevitably got hairy. “On it. Holler if you need me!” She received a nod from Ibrahim as he went between his first scroll to the second. With that, Amanda went off to tear up a few old bedrooms. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Click! Click! Click!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Time passed slowly for Constanze in her search; the ‘common area’ as she dubbed it, was quite large and terribly drab, at least for her. Sucy would no doubt love to uproot and take the whole alchemy set with her, and Amanda, during better times, would be keen to remember the dueling platform for when she wanted to spar with Diana over whatever petty competition they were having that week. Constanze though had searched high and low, and while some tomes seemed intriguing at first, they were so heavily mired in historical reference and metaphorical adages as to be unreadable by the witch-gineer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That and, despite being a deeply forbidden lair hidden beneath the academy, it seemed to lack many secrets, unless there were further abstractions layered within the sanctum itself; and so Constanze chiseled away, searching for bricks that were amiss. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Click! Click! Click!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the humdrum labor continued, Constanze allowed her mind to wander. She still wasn’t sure exactly what material she would need to complete her entrapment-excavator, and no object caught her eye as being made of anything magical or sturdy enough to be useful for that. Beside that, Constanze was down here for admittedly selfish pursuits; if there was anything that could be used to identify the beasts, those monsters that destroyed Ludinghal and her family, Constanze </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> find it. Saving Luna Nova came first, but her very dreams had become filled with grim fantasies of vengeance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m going to get out of here. We’re going to escape. And then I’m going to scour the fucking earth if I have to. I’m going to find them. I’m going to</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Click! Click! Click…. CHING!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze’s fine tooling and tapping at each and every stone finally yielded something of note! The ding that typically came off as dull and hard different; it signified a hollow brick! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She snapped out of her dark thoughts and tapped away thrice more at the same brick. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>CHING! CHING! CHING!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“There.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze dragged her rucksack closer, and of all the tools to remove, she pulled out a maul that was nearly as tall as her. She marked the spot with black tape, lifted the maul with a grunt, and took a batting stance. She breathed with concerted effort once, and then wound up the hammer before smashing the marked spot on the wall in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The structure became concave with bricks spilling out as a massive cloud of dust kicked right up into Constanze’s face; she was forced into a coughing fit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“EVERYTHING OK CONSTANZE!?” Ibrahim yelled from the central archive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“CONSTANZE! WHAT THE HELL!?” Barbara peaked her head in and exclaimed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’M! AHACH! FINE!” Constanze reassured as her maul clattered to the floor, cracking a piece of it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Barbara made her way into the room, holding up her shirt to block the dust from getting in her mouth and nose, speaking as she came closer. “Did you really need to blow a huge hole in the wall!? What if the roof collapses!?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Won’t!” Constanze rasped and hacked once more in a coughing fit before the dust finally settled. “Sturdy architecture. Built to last.” Constanze gestured to the hole. “See.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Barbara looked on and saw a pile of bricks where the wall once was; beyond that, a small vestibule held a great lever covered in silver that by magical means was unrusted and untarnished. In the wake of the destroyed wall though, it was clear that arcane dust and energies were escaping. “Ugh, we could have just opened it with magic you know.” Barbara scoffed, hardly a fan of such wanton destruction as she let her shirt fall back to her chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Easier.” Constanze retorted, “Come on.” and then beckoned Barbara with a wave to follow inside. Barbara came along with some hesitation, having imagined something like this could easily be trapped. For mercy, nothing was tripped when they came toward the lever, nor did anything happen when Constanze struggled to pull it; it was stuck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze pulled and tried with all her might, so much so she grit her teeth and threw her whole body weight into it. When nothing more came than before, she gasped for air and slouched over. “Verdammt. Oil. Stuck mechanisms.” She belabourdly stated, already off to go fetch the needed regents. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Constanze could do so though, Barbara, who had stayed a few feet back and was staring at something near the ceiling, spoke: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Talar. Wytchs lor luna, gherarack nu occuba. Reclaria toom.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Barbara read aloud in Lunar speak, the universal language of the arcane that almost all spells were cast in. It brought Constanze to halt, turn around, and go wide eyed at the lever as it began to glow brightly, engulfed in arcane light. “W-Wait a minute, that worked!?” Barbara was just as shocked as Constanze and stepped away. The lever then slowly creaked on it’s own, switching from its “off” position to its opposite. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The whole sanctum began to groan as stone grinded on stone, Constanze and Barbara both scrambled out of the vestibule with the lever, and the distant but barely understandable yelps and shouts from the rest of the group accompanied it. Within the common room, four circular sections of the flooring slid away like man-hole covers, and from below, pillars arose slowly bearing pedestals of pristine marble, each bearing a sculpted hat, silver plaque, and were otherwise adorned in strange effects particular to each shrine. At the foot of each, an unlit brazier lay.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It only took thirty seconds, but when it was done, everyone was quite a bit concerned. Ibrahim, Hannah, Sucy, and Amanda all came running in, all wanting to know what had occured. At first they looked to Constanze, but then when they saw Constanze was shrugging and looking at Barbara, they turned to her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-What!? I just—” Barbara turned around, pointing at the room with the lever, only to find the wall was in perfect condition, as if having never been knocked away. “W—We just were—I….” Barbara patted the wall, with her palms, feeling out for any looseness, but found none. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze came up beside her as the rest of the group examined their surroundings cautiously. She tapped at the wall as she had done before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Click! Click! Click!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Solid rock. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t…. Makes no sense.” Constanze struggled for words, fearful they’d triggered something they shouldn’t have, but still holding that classic furrowed brow and angry stare Constanze was known for. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim came up to one of the pedestals, brushing a hand along the marble sculpted hats. “Remarkable….” The words escape his lips involuntarily like wind. “Shrines to the Nine, hidden right below the Sanctum.” He refocused himself on Barbara and Constanze. “Both of you; what did you do to cause this?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, we just, you know…. I didn’t break anything! Swear! It was… just… you know—” Barbara hated when she got flustered; she always felt she sounded like Akko before she got her witching-legs so to speak.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Barbara.” Hannah intoned sternly, though not aggressively. “Use your words. It’s ok; we’re all right.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just breath Babs. No traps going off, just some statues.” Amanda held her hands up and waved them in a calming motion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok. Ok….” Barbara huffed and puffed, rubbing her hair frantically while Constanze tugged at her dress. At the tug, Barbara turned slightly to see Constanze nodding, encouraging her to speak. “So Constanze found a hidden room. It was behind this wall. And inside was a silver lever.” Her voice was nervous at first, but she gathered her noble confidence with time. “Constanze tried to pull it and nothing happened, but I noticed some Lunar runes on the ceiling, er, on an archway. The runes said </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Hear me. Witches of the moon, arise and unveil your legacies. The reclaimers have come.’</span>
  </em>
  <span> After I said that in the Lunar tongue, well, the lever activated and here we are!” Barbara threw her arms up, lacking a reason as to why this would happen just for speaking a certain phrase. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t I tell you guys </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> to go reading spells you don’t understand?” Sucy hissed, palming her face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Barbara crossed her arms and upturned her nose snootingly. “T-That was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> a spell! I’m not a child, Manbavaran, I know what I’m doing!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim interjected. “No offense meant, Ms England, but every word written and spoken in the Lunar tongue holds power. Even more standard arrangements like that; ones that make statements, they can act as spells in their own right.” He stepped to Barbara who dropped her arms and sighed. “Now there’s no use in arguing. I have no idea how or why that room isn’t there any more, but we have to be more careful. If hidden chambers can disappear and reappear seemingly at random, then there’s no telling what else can happen. Walk softly, and don’t touch anything too strange without really investigating it first.” He looked to each of the witches present, expecting an affirmative response. “Agreed?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze gave a thumbs up, packing away her maul as she realized that this dig would probably require a softer approach. Amanda nodded along as she joined Hannah and Barbara, squeezing each of them from reassuringly. “Agreed.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy simply sighed though and slithered slowly to the door. “Well if those statues are supposed to be related to the Nine Olde Witches, I only count four. The other five must be around here.” Upon reaching the door, Sucy called out, “Amanda; help me check the archive. I don’t trust that these are just statues.” and then slipped away, expecting Amanda to follow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda craned her neck to watch Sucy leave and then looked back to Ibrahim who addressed them all. “It’s a sound strategy. Amanda, you and Sucy check the archives. Hannah and Barbara can search the dorms, while myself and Constanze check the ones here. If they prove to not be useful we’ll go back to scouring the books. As interesting as this discovery could be, we can’t let ourselves get distracted.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda pulled off of Hannah and Barbara. The three of them shared confident stares which eased Barbara the most. They then went off to their separate ways, with Hannah calling back. “If we find anything strange, we’ll call you all over!” Ibrahim waved once in recognition to the leaving group before putting his hands on his hips, his staff leaning against him under his arm. He looked to Constanze with a heavy sigh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze met his gaze while packing away the maul. “The plan?” She asked plainly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, you’re a woman of science; we’ll start with observation.” Ibrahim regripped his staff and plodded over to one of the statues. “I’ll admit, even as a Cabalist in the Antiquarians, my knowledge of the Nine Olde Witches is limited.” He knelt down in front of the foremost pedestal; it was wrapped in chains, even the brazier had four chains locked around it, though the chains had no clear end or beginning, they simply were. “The best we can hope for is spell scroll tucked away with… whatever these are meant to be.” Ibrahim ran his hand along the chains on the statues, and then he picked up individual chain links. They had been scattered around the base alongside long burnt out torches; the ground about the statue was ashy and blackened. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze approached, leaning in to examine the silver plaque upon the edifice. “Vaal,” Constanze read the name, squinting to understand the smaller text; she was never good at reading magical languages and script. “Mother to the Monstrous, Grand Witch of Forgefires. Sixth of Nine. The Chains Hold.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze scratched at her chin, pursing her lips in bewilderment before she rounded the thing, inspecting it closely. Her eyes drifted to the hat atop the marble pillar: It was more like a crown; very unconventional, even by witching standards. It bore two horns that curved and distorted in differing ways, though they resembled no natural animal horns. The horns were situated on a puffed up, likely meant to be cloth top-piece, and below that, a mantle, probably meant to be metal, displayed a few intricate runes that keen scholars could trace back to old slavic shamans and sorcerers; they were ancient. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The name’s familiar. All I know of her is basically what the plaque says.” Ibrahim tried tugging on the chains but recoiled at a shock he received; he hissed in minor pain. “The hell?” He cursed, holding his hand. “Careful with the irons, they’re hexed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Details?” Constanze whipped out a sort of device that Ibrahim didn’t recognize; she ran it along the chains, measuring some sort of energy reading. “And you’re right. It’s powerful.” She was referring to the magical concentration. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, the only specifics I’m aware of is that she was probably the original pioneer of smithing with magic. You must have heard of the practice, given your engineering background.” Ibrahim presumed; they’d been more formally introduced now, but he still knew very little. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mm-mm.” Constanze shook her head, pressing against spots on the pedestal that seemed weak, but they were just as solid as the rest of the structure. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim paused, peering out from the other side of the statue. “Truly? Did you not make that automaton though? What did you call it? Stanbot?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.” Constanze kept to her few word responses. “Magic…. There's magic involved. Not a lot. Some. I do some things…. Some… no magic.” She held her breath at trying to explain herself better. “I enjoy it. It’s my passion.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you took no classes on the subject? Does Luna Nova even teach it, actually?” Ibrahim rested his arms on his knees as he came to sit in a more casual fashion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” Constanze had always loathed not having an official academic route at the academy to go down; though the classes she took were never </span>
  <em>
    <span>unhelpful</span>
  </em>
  <span>, they weren’t perfect either. “I wish I had. I would….” Constanze grumbled, forcing herself to use her voice given Ibrahim likely had no way to read her expressions. “It comes naturally. Trial and error. Since I was a child.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim smiled. “I’m stunned, to be honest. Care to show me what you’ve made? I’ve met proper witch smiths before, and their differing styles and schools of thought never cease to amaze me; to speak nothing of their products.” Ibrahim coughed into his fist. “Once this is sorted that is.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze smiled, but only for a moment. “Mmmm… Sure. I… appreciate it.” Constanze stammered before letting her arms drop defeatedly. “Words are hard for me. Sorry. Can I focus?” She was doing her best to be cordial; it was hard to not be rude when people didn’t know about her mutism. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim raised a palm calmly. “Say no more. Literally. If it bothers you, we’ll do this silently.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze grunted thanks, breathing easier now that conversation had been put off the table for now. Their collective work focused on checking every nook and cranny on the pillar, hat statue, the chains; everything. The only discovery they could make though came in the form of a hidden parchment scrap that lay beneath the brazier. Constanze had found it, picked it up, and read it on a whim. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strangely enough, the words upon the old paper were in German, though it was of course not in a modern form: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Good people of the land, hear me and listen well; your lives, your labour, your families:</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They are all at risk! The lords and ladies of the realm watch on though; </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Beasts roam the countryside, monsters, sometimes beyond description, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Grip us and all in fear. But there is hope! Where your so called masters fail,</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We fight! Where darkness falls, our order brings light! We bear the torch of tomorrow!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We are the Order of The Balefire, and we have all known your fear once before.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We can help you, but we require aid in turn. Our hunters fight far afield and deaths is</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A constant companion in this war. We want you, honest and valiant folk of the realm;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Rise up! Join with me, with us, and hold the flame of the Balefire high! We will teach</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The parchment ended there, its edges ruined, ironically, by black burn marks. “Ibrahim.” Constanze asked, still staring at the parchment, checking the back of it and ensuring she’d properly understood its contents. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes? Did you find—” Ibrahim began, but was interrupted by a distant and echoing crumble; stones fell away, it sounded like a cave in! Screaming accompanied it, and it had both Ibrahim and Constanze springing into action. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze had her blaster-caster at the ready in a moment's notice, having stowed away the parchment piece in her pockets, and ran off toward the calls for help; she grabbed her rucksack on the way, just in case. Ibrahim was right behind her with both hands gripping his staff; magic already surged in the amber gem atop the pole, ready to be unleashed at a glance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Things would not be as they expected though. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A few minutes prior….</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With Hannah and Barbara passing into the dormitory wing of the Sanctum, Amanda idly commented to Sucy. “So uh, any clue what these are for?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nooope.” Sucy sniffled, surprisingly without much of an idea of where to go from there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two of them were standing in the center of the archive chamber, staring down a lone pedestal opposite to the entrance. The pedestal was barren, lacking all but a tall hat with leaf like shapes crowding around the base of the cone. The cone of the hat itself was extremely angular, and on the front, a four pointed star extended high top the top and bottom of the hat, but barely at all across the sides. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No offerings were left, no brazier was present, and the only thing that could serve to identify which witch of olde this shrine belonged to was a name written in what appeared to be Lunar runes. The markings were too faded and intricate to read from where they stood. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda rolled up her sleeves. “Tch.Only one way to find out.” She moved across the archive floor confidently with Sucy slithering close behind her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If they’re shrines, then this must not have been a very well liked witch among the Nine.” Sucy felt uneasy by the plainness of the lone statue; had someone stolen away with what once lay here? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not even a proper name-plate. They’re either old fashioned or they </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> weren’t well liked.” Amanda rounded the thing, finding nothing hidden behind, above, or below. It was just a simple pedestal and hat sculpture. “What’s the runes say? Anything bad?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy bent over, brushing aside any dust that could have gathered where the symbol was carved, and squinted in thought. “This… doesn’t look like anything I’m familiar with.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Soooo, bad, right?” Amanda leaned back, careful not to get cursed in case she was right. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I dunno. Didn’t you say </span>
  <em>
    <span>only one way to find out</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Sucy poorly impersonated Amanda with a poor mimicking of her voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you supposed to be an Antiquarian? As in, like, good at handling this shit?” Amanda fired back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Barely even a proper recruit O’Neill, I don’t wanna hear it.” Sucy drew from the murky indigos of her cloak, a journal. She began flipping through the pages, giving each only a cursory glance as she searched for something that could be similar to what she was looking at. “It’s not fae, high or low; definitely not some human made arcane language….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t Lunar, like, man made, or however you’d call it?” Amanda asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s… not a question I can answer. The legend is that some humans, supposedly one of the Nine Olde Witches, interpreted the language of the moon and made it understandable for everyone else. Somehow. Sounds too weird to be real to me, but then again, we did think we would get eaten one time by a dragon who was actually just interested in bitcoin and pyramid schemes.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fafnir was… into bitcoin?” Amanda felt the heavy expression take over her face; pity and hilarity. She stifled a chuckle. “How the hell did you learn that?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you watch the news? Ever?” Sucy side eyed Amanda. How could she have missed the trial of the century: First ancient dragon to be tried for embezzling millions! The headlines were as absurd as one would imagine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why… would…. Alright, nevermind.”  Amanda dismissed the matter with a waved hand.  “Just, what do the stupid symbols mean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Still no clue.” Sucy rolled her eyes at the impatience of her friend, but was surprised she may have just put her foot in her mouth so to speak. “Wait a second….” Sucy had just flipped onto a most intriguing page in her personal journal on mystical and arcane languages; it was scant for detail, but it described something Sucy dubbed </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Traveller’s Cant.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> It was the catch all term for the languages of things that drift in space, far beyond the reach of starlight. The symbols didn’t match anything she had on Traveller Cant; mostly because she had no direct examples, but she’d read illicit texts on the existence of such languages. The descriptions she’d come to know were quite similar, and nothing else was lining up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now that she was looking at it more closely, Sucy realized that symbols like this shouldn’t even be feasibly possible to carve into stone; with or without magic. The shapes were too complex and bent in impossible fashion, as though they had shadows and physical depth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Got something?” Amanda interrupted her train of thought, to her increased annoyance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shhh!” Sucy hushed Amanda without even deigning to turn away from her book. She read over the notes she’d made: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Heavy emphasis on certain geometric shapes…. Spirals….  Infinite Perfect Triangles…. Circles with more than one angle.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> It only got weirder from there. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“These strange shapes… blablabla…” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her thoughts cut through the chaff of the penned words. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Assembled together alongside other symbol based languages to convey multiple meanings. Something something crackpot theory…. Can only be read properly from a forth or higher dimensional perspective? Yeah that’s definitely stupid.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sucy didn’t like where this was leading.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy looked up back to the symbol, and then down to her notes again; symbol, notes, symbol, notes. Eventually she felt she pieced something together: She’d try to see past the strange shapes and extra additions to see if anything recognizable lay beneath them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy put her left palm against the runes, closed her eyes, and focused every bit of her being into channelling magic into rearranging the shapes. Her breathing steadied, and while the stonework itself did not alter, her mind began to puzzle out the words. Amanda could only watch on, tapping her foot nervously out of fear that she was right to call the thing cursed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thoughts and concepts barraged Sucy’s mind, like the symbols themselves were shouting at Sucy in a thousand languages about a thousand different topics. Eventually, a voice rang above the rest: It came like a spring breeze over a meadow. Like a winter gale through the sleeping forests. Like a harsh gust across humid summer beaches. Like the dead howling of autumns’ leafy laments. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I am she who was sent from the cold. I am she who had planted the seeds. I am she who has taken watch over this garden. I am she who shall weep at the reaping of what I have sown.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Woodward.” Sucy pulled back the stone-bound hand with a gasp, the name having escaped her like a spirit leaving her body. Her arm that had touched the edifice shivered, and her palms went to the ground just behind her so that she could remain steady. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No shit? You mean that weird tree Akko kept going on about living beneath the school?” Amanda didn’t fully pick up on the emotions Sucy was feeling; her face was hidden by the hood. She came closer to the statue, examining it more intently. She could have sworn that the hat sculpture seemed to not be firmly secured to the pedestal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy rose slowly, as if learning how to stand again, and she spoke with a shaking head in the negative. “I think so, but I don’t think we want to look into this anymore.” Sucy began to breathe thoughtfully, minding every rise and fall of her lungs, as the breath had been stolen from her when the name escaped her lips. “It’s not going to help us get out of this situation with the dome, let’s just—” Sucy paused due to the absolute disregard Amanda had. “Hey! Didn’t I just—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait a second Sucy!” Amanda was busy pulling on the heavy hat statue, creaking it inch by inch to the side until she was able to lift it up and set it on the ground. “I had… a feeling…. Ahhh!” With the hat now lifted up, Amanda was forced to forgo talking until she set it down with a heavy thud. Once free of the weight she spoke less belabourdly. “Had a feeling there was something hidden underneath.” All that was left on the pedestal was a flower full of life, cut from a thornless stem, sporting five beautifully white petals with a pink splash in the very center where a floral tip stuck out; it looked like a rose of sorts. A hibiscus perhaps? Beside the flower, a small paper lay beside it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy had retreated, fearful something terrible was about to occur. “Are you out of your mind Amanda!? Get back here!” Sucy warned viciously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A-All I did was move a stupid sculpture though! It’s just a flower and a note anyway!” Amanda’s tone was laden with faux confidence; she backed against the wall instinctively. “What’s got you so worked up!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy held her tongue and thought about that question. The feeling she had was familiar; a sort of dread and fascination that came with uncovering the forbidden and purposely hidden. It was exhilaratingly terrifying. Sucy wanted to know more, but the burn scars and the memory of that day in the Sanctum had her mind thinking only of caution while her heart screamed for daring. In the end, with nothing immediately going wrong, Sucy’s curiosity won out. “Just….” She slowly deflated, returning to her more normal and droopy self. “Remind me to </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> explore anything older than a hundred years with you. Ever. You’re going to get me killed at this rate.” She stepped to the pedestal, resigning to take whatever came next in stride.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda relaxed her raised shoulders and laughed weakly. “Christ, Sucy. Bitch at me all you want, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> the one about to give me a heart attack.” Amanda moved away from the wall, though hesitation never left her steps now. She picked up the flower and the note beside, and read it aloud. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“That She might one day return to me…. My blossom from the heavens.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can read it?” Sucy craned her neck to try and see the writing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well it’s in plain English so I’d hope I could read it!” Amanda shrugged, her arms outstretched partly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why would it be…. Amanda.” Sucy backed up again; that was a bad sign. She raised her wand and leveled it at Amanda. That was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>worse</span>
  </em>
  <span> sign. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-What!? What are you doing, Sucy?” Amanda looked around frantically, bringing the flower and note close to her chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shh! Don’t. Move.” Sucy whispered at first, and then mouthed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda froze on the spot and only allowed her eyes to wander. She could feel a slithering along her legs; up her back. Vines! She could see roots and vines that emerged from the walls, the ceiling, the floor! They began to tangle themselves up around Amanda, and despite her desire to struggle, she kept to Sucy’s advice. The vines, slow at first, suddenly darted like wasps and stole away with the flower and note. Amanda felt rug burn all over her body where the vines raced. They whipped and stung and stabbed; not deeply, but enough to be painful!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy blasted away without any further histation, setting fire to several of the tangles only for more to take their place. Amanda was forced to just cover her face and struggle for her life. With Sucy’s aid, she broke free and stumbled forward, crashing into her comrade and leaving the two of them in a mess on the floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A solid ten seconds passed before either was able to properly sit up, having to flop about a mess of robes and limbs. When Sucy and Amanda had finally collected themselves, they both blinked, mouth slightly agape, at the pristinely kept pillar and statue of Woodward’s hat, back right where it should be. There was no sign of the flower, the roots, the vines, the note; nothing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda broke the awkward silence, clearing her throat. “So; lesson learned: Listen to Sucy more often….” She fixed her messed up collar while standing up; she can’t look </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span> when on a mysterious investigation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy meanwhile hardly adjusted any of her shambled robes as she became upright. She didn’t even say anything and instead glared daggers at Amanda for her gung-ho incompetence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then came the sounds of a cave in; screaming! Hannahs’ and Barbaras’ screams to be precise. It drew both Amanda’s and Sucy’s eyes to the doorway to the ancient dormitories. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda broke into an immediate sprint. “Hannah! Barbara!” She was shouting, trying to locate the two based on sounds alone. Sucy was right behind her, scouting each of the individual rooms while Amanda charged forward. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy was then met by Constanze and Ibrahim, who had come running in from the common room. “What’s happened!?” Ibrahim yelled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy pulled out from the room she was peeking into, wide eyed with alertness. “Don’t know! Working on it!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Somewhat distantly, Amanda’s voice called out. “DOWN HERE! COME ON I NEED HELP!” Immediately, Ibrahim slid past Sucy, with the two other witches now in tow. While navigating the surprisingly maze-like hallways, they came to a sliding halt upon finding Amanda belly down on the floor. She was half over the edge of a fifteen foot wide hole, grabbing fiercely onto Barbara’s hands, who was in turn being held by Hannah at the waist. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda was grunting and tensing; she was using all of her might, but down in the darkness, an unseen force ensnared Hannahs’ legs. They were like wicked tendrils that dug deep enough with could be barbs to pierce skin and draw blood; inky black from the lack of illumination. “LET ME DOWN!” Amanda commanded; she wanted to get a better hold of Barbara’s arms as their hands were slipping. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim took not a moment more to hoist Amanda by the waist up a few inches, having let his staff clatter to the ground. “Sucy, Constanze, get her legs!” They did as commanded, with Sucy holding Amanda’s thighs and Constanze keeping the ankles steady. As a trio, they then slid Amanda down, by inches at first, and then by a whole three feet, forcing each of the hoisting witches down to the floor just to keep a good grip; none were lacking for effort and exertion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now lowered, Amanda sucked in a tight breath before briefly letting go and lunging her arms and hands down in a blinding motion, reclasping them solidly on Barbaras’ forearms. The darkness would not give in so easily though: The blackened tendrils became clearer; they darted out as bullets, revealing their true form as purple and verdant vines budding with teal, yellow, and pink flowers that burned with flaring bioluminescence. The barbs were thorns that shot out like porcupine spines, regrowing and stabbing away at a terrifying rate. They were wholly alien. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The vines snaked up along Hannahs’ legs, eventually engulfing her up to the waist. There were screams and tears, but brute force alone would not ensure their safety. Hannah made a daring move in letting go of Barbara with one arm, and made to unfasten her wand. Once drawn, she blasted away with whatever spell could come to mind. The vines shrunk, ignited, went stiff, bubbled, and boiled; Hannah was trying every spell in her arsenal. The strategy started working at first as the hoisting team began to gain a few inches in pulling Barbara and Hannah up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their advantage would not last: More vines from whatever impossibly large plant lay below surfaced and began to whip and lash at Amanda’s wrists and hands with spines and spikes. It was like being stung by an entire colony of bees over and over again! Her grip loosened as feeling in her arms began to go; her body aching for release as the pain became insurmountable. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>First one hand went, and then the other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Barbara and Hannah were left to fall freely; Hannah being fully snatched by the vines, and Barbara simply left to the gravitys’ whims. As the screaming black-haired witch looked down, she could see a stalactite in her path. It was jutting out of the abyssal caverns wall, and it would surely impale her. She had no time to prepare for the end, let alone scream, but death did not come. The vines snaked along in the air at lighting speed; they formed a sort of cushion with eld and alien flowers sprouting instantaneously. The petals softened the fall, but Barbara was hardly free from being taken away. Just as soon as she was safe, the vines were carrying her screaming self down into the depth.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda was pulled up with all three of the other witches gasping for breath and energy. Amanda immediately fought to stand once laid to the ground, her body pushing against the others’ and knocked the already tired witches onto their backs. She was a woman possessed, and with just the weight of her body alone, she shoulder-tackled one of the old doors of a nearby dorm room, sending splinters flying as it fell to the ground along with her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pain meant nothing right now, only saving Hannah and Barbara did. The thorns that stuck in the top of her hands hardly even impeded her as she pushed down on her palms to stand, digging some of them deeper, forming greater wounds. Her eyes scanned the room instantly; there was one of those pillars with the statues to the Nine Olde Witches. The hat atop it was tall and pointy with two wings, one on either side. She could care less for any of that though; all that mattered was that surrounding the statue was what she came looking for: Bewitched brooms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda expected that she might find an old broom left behind, and fate had smiled upon her. She snatched one of the brooms at random, bolted from the room, and swan dived into the abyssal hole of imperceptible depth. In those moments of blinding action, only Constanze had been able to get an idea of what had just happened. She scrambled over to the edge and shouted, straining her unused vocal chords. “AMANDA!” She couldn’t believe just how stupidly daring her former roommate could be. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The only sight she caught was the tail end of Amanda’s fall before darkness consumed her, with Amanda spinning the broom in her holding hand such that it came to point vertically down, aligning with her trajectory. She then slid onto it with ease mid flight, casting furiously, “TYPHERIOUS PHOS!” which turned the nosediving witch into a plant-seeking missile. A crackle of thunder echoed back up to Constanze just from the sheer force of Amanda’s wind spell, sending her tumbling back onto the dusty floor in a coughing mess. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By now, Ibrahim had collected himself and helped Sucy up. “Where’s Amanda? She didn’t!” He took a look over the edge just as Constanze had done a moment ago and swore thrice in Arabic.  His clenched fists struck the cobble floor once, but this was no time for rage to distract them. He steadied his breath and took command with his voice. “Manbavaran! Get topside and inform Malakai! Tell them we’ve three lost witches in the Sanctum! Get me a team of ten able casters; I don’t care who! I’m staying here to try and find a better way down!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy did not even speak to confirm she understood, she simply ran off with her cloak literally flying in the wind along with her; she wasn’t actually even walking, rather floating a few inches off of the ground. She rounded corners in a flash and exited the sanctum in search of allies, leaving Ibrahim with Constanze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Ibrahim could give any, let alone formulate, orders for Constanze to follow, she was dawning a pair of… night vision goggles!? “What are you—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Going after them. Stay. I’ll be fine.” Constanze knelt by the edge of the hole, having already secured a climbing belt to her waist. She aimed her caster-blaster and fired the grappling hook attachment; the bolt speared the stone-face drop and held firm. When the rope was taught, Constanze snapped a trigger on the side of the weapon that had her flying toward the shot location. Once she landed firmly with feet planted against the rocks, she took one free hand and grabbed a smaller grapple-shot pistol from her belt. She fired down to the opposite side of the cave, dancing back and forth in her descent to optimize safety with speed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim could hardly believe the maneuver Constanze was pulling off, but he didn’t have the luxury of being impressed right now. He had secret passages to search for, and fast!</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda cut the very air with her dive. She’d made herself as aerodynamic is humanly possible; body pressed against the broom tightly. All about her was cervices, chasms, and caves; all leading to some unknown part of the deeper labyrinth that was contained by the Sanctums full breadth. All that Amanda’s tunnel vision could see though lay deeper. Directly below, Hannah and Barbara were still in the towering and viney clutches of that monstrous weed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda didn’t care what it was, how powerful it was, or if it could be an ally; that thing was </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking dead </span>
  </em>
  <span>if she got her hands on it. Tears streaked across Amanda’s face and fell into the wind behind her. The G forces of the fall and the biting air against her unshielded eyes forced water from her ducts, but more so, Amanda couldn’t keep a hint of composure at the thought of losing either Hannah or Barbara, let alone both of them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Past all of the arguments, their problems, their faults, the toxicity in their relationship; Amanda knew the three of them could conquer all of those things together if they had time. She wasn’t about to allow any of their lives to be cut short before that could happen. Her mind raced, going through all of what brought the three together:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a silly thing at first….</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Four years ago, Amanda had burgled her way into the blue team’s room to steal away with answers to the upcoming Arcane Histories final; Diana had taken it early so she could leave the school to attend to homefront matters, and the test was returned promptly, fully corrected and graded. It was a simple task, one Amanda had done at least five times before, though usually just for pranks aimed at the Cavendish heir apparent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Things were a bit more serious that time, and while snooping through drawers and cupboards, Amanda came across a picture of herself posing debonairly in a suit; the one she’d used to sneak into Appleton. Her hair was done in that slicked back style and everything. Amanda remembered that during the Hologarium incident, Akko came to her asking for said photos… and Amanda was never sure what they were even meant for. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the days start repeating at infinitum Amanda would admit “you start to get really bored and a little crazy,” so she stopped asking questions during that whole debacle about half way through. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seems she found out who wanted those pictures. One thing led to another and Amanda was caught in the act: Hannah and Barbara came back, and were angry beyond belief. Amanda was forced to give them an ultimatum, one she came to regret making about a week later. She’d keep the photos a secret if she was allowed to go free with the test results, and due to becoming as red as a siren with embarrassment, Hannah acquiesced, despite Barbara’s protest; it was Hannah’s secret after all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Time passed, Amanda felt guilt, made amends, and ultimately helped Hannah discover more intimately the kind of attraction she felt. At first it was just a fling, something to allow Hannah to come to understand her love for the feminine, though she never lost her love of the masculine. Things started getting serious about a year into that:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They started sharing more personal details, working through greater hardships with Hannah’s family; things to be expected of a deeper friendship. Then things got romantic, and that’s where Barbara became invested. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’d been watching from the sidelines, constantly warning and chiding Hannah for her choice of partners, but eventually she came clean and admitted it was all just jealousy; jealousy over “losing” Hannah, whom she admitted she’d admired since childhood, and jealousy over getting with Amanda, who she’d hid her affection for </span>
  <em>
    <span>much</span>
  </em>
  <span> more than Hannah did. Barbara was so committed to secrecy that she had a quadruple-locked box sealed by a magic passphrase, which was specifically a line from a Welsh poem. And inside </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> was </span>
  <em>
    <span>another</span>
  </em>
  <span> locked box which contained the actual poems she’d written about yearning to be Hannah, and one dedicated to Amanda and Hannah both. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After revealing herself, weeks upon weeks of working things out and feeling their ways through young love,  the rest was history. And it was all about to be History if Amanda didn’t pick up the damnable pace! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“PHOS! PHOS! FUCKING, PHOS!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Spell after spell! She could go no faster, not without a bloody jet engine, and oh how she’d use one, even if the force of such a flight flensed the flesh from her very bones; she’d split the heavens in a great thunderfit if it meant rescuing those two bourgeoisie blokes she called lovers.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A glint of light! Hope! The signs of Hannah’s spellcasting! She’d gotten an arm free, and was aiding Hannah to free her own; they weren’t going down without a fight either! Amanda could see their shadows just below them, but she was gaining only by a hair. Further! She had to press herself harder if she wanted to get further! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her soul spent every bit of its energy that Amanda knew and didn’t know she had; her descent was that of a screaming eagle just by how she cut the formerly still air of the mausoleum-like maze. In that final burst, Amanda managed to shoot toward the vine-entrapped duo and extend her hand. Hannah caught sight of it for just a moment, called out to Barbara with a yell, and both reached with all of their might to grasp at it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their fingers came so agonizingly close to touching, but it was for naught. A wind from nowhere; a mystical hurricane had blown in from one of the open maze-ways. Some mysterious force would see the lovers kept apart for now, and Amanda could only scream and spit furious curses as the gale blew her into one of the dark passages. Hannah and Barbara then were left to sink into the depth; their last sight, a crimson cloud. It dulled their senses, and their screams went silent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda meanwhile was brought to a terrible tumble. She felt bones go in places they really shouldn’t, and was certain that this was her end. In that dust and dirt filled hallway though, the alien flowers came to ensure her prolonged existence. One large and garishly crimson and yellow bud came to meet Amanda’s fading gaze. It bulged like a balloon ready to burst, and when it did, red spores coated Amanda’s face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Death suddenly became so very close, or was that sleep? Amanda had never known what it would be like to die; she’d never gotten this near it. Her bones were readjusting; she could feel the wretched wobbling and moving of her innards: Things were being put back where they should. The thorns left her hand, and she could see the wounds heal. Just what the hell was happening? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was denied answers though, being forced into an unconscious state. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The disorientation was overwhelming. Everything was spinning. Barbara’s eyes were filled with the sight from inside a washing machine; churning, foggy like glass, and watery. She faded in and out of consciousness for what seemed like an hour, but was only a five minute stretch. That final time she came to, her senses were shocked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyes burst open, reddened like a sleepless and nightmare addled woman. Her ears rang from an explosion she must have missed, or one she imagined. The dusty and rocky ground below her became especially painful to be laid down on; every stone and pebble was felt with the intensity of a tattooer's quill on the skin. And the smell! Gods, the smell! It could only be described as </span>
  <em>
    <span>ancient</span>
  </em>
  <span>. There was no point of reference Barbara had for what unholy stench was assaulting her nostrils; but it was old, very, very, old. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She rose to her feet in a coughing fit which turned into a vomitous one; she was lucky not to have sullied her clothes with that. Her memories were still fresh, and despite being wholly unable to handle taking in the world around her, she could vividly recall the last thing she knew. The crimson cloud of spores, that sinking feeling of a deep sleep. They were brought here by that impossible plant-life, whatever it was, to wherever this is. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After having retched and hacked up more than what Barbara would have liked, she groaned sickly. “The Sanctum…. Are we…?” That’s when the memory of Hannah and Amanda came to mind. Barbara flung her head up, to the regret of her still dizzied vision, and then from side to side. She nearly hurled again just by doing that, but she had to try and know who was with her; what was with her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was dark. So damnably dark. Her eyes were adjusting, but she wasn’t a mole; there was only so much the human eyes could see in such inky blackness. Immediately about her there were </span>
  <em>
    <span>things</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Brick-a-brack and jumble unsortable; a hoarder's delight. It was no doubt all valuable though, perhaps </span>
  <em>
    <span>invaluable</span>
  </em>
  <span> to the right buyer. These were the remnants of an age gone by, of magic at its peak:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scraps of books, unpreserved and wholly decimated in many cases, cups, bones of ancient witches or ill fated looters, or perhaps even monstrous critters; these were the first things to be noticed. Beneath that was broken wands, scraps of cloth, entire cloaks even. Hair strands from brooms and other assorted arcane items lay mixed in with the endlessly winding tunnels; the floor was full of the stuff! Ingredients, cracked potion bottles, the rare rusted and near broken weapon. Anything a witch worth their salt could want, it was here. They weren’t here for looting though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Barbara squinted harder after rubbing her eyes, brushing away much of the tears that had formed from how agitated they were from the sporing she’d received. She could see signs of red still distant in her vision; those damnable plants really did…. “H-Hannah? HANNAH!” Barbara came to know that distant redness as not the crimson of the alien flowers but the hair of her noble companion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Barbara scrambled to her feet, fell, scrambled again, fell once more, and then resorted to crawling across the floor to reach her lover. Her hands and knees became cut up almost immediately, but not to the point of unuse. She came to a halt and hissed loudly, clutching her wrists as she examined the now open wounds. “Where…?” Her prior wounds had healed. She felt no other pains, despite the rough and near deadly treatment of that giant plant. The mysteries only deepened. That didn’t matter right now though, Hannah did. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Barbara slapped her hands about in the darkness, feeling for something useful, and after finding a surprisingly soft piece of cloth-scrap, she went about wrapping her wounds. Once better equipped, for what it was worth, Barbara managed to push herself off of the ground, holding steady against the walls in order to keep standing. Her stomach afterwards made clear that it wasn’t quite done being upset yet, and after another bile filled interlude, she began to trudge and push toward Hannah’s curled form. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the grace of either some long forgotten god to witches and sorcerers, or by the unknowable wills and whims of the great alien plant, Hannah was alive and well; Barbara could spy no wounds on her. Barbara fell to her friend’s side, down on both knees, and began to shake Hannah slowly and rhythmically. “Hannah! Hannah… ohh… Hannah get up!” Barbara’s words were partly slurred from her groggy state. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Grumbling and tired mumbling escaped Hannah’s lips; she was going through the same song and dance Barbara endured. First the in and out sleeping, then the sudden hyper-alertness, then the vomiting. Time passed, silent sympathies in sickness were shared, and when all was said and done, Barbara was to first to speak up. “You… are you alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well obviously not! God….” Hannah wiped her mouth of grime and sick.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean, can you stand?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Probably…. Can you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm. Come on.” Barbara hoisted herself and then Barbara up. They fell into one another's arms, partly for physical stability, but mostly for emotional stability. The embrace was as genuine as could ever be, for all they knew was darkness and the remnants of long dead things.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were trapped in the Sheol of witchery, the bowels of an arcane Gehenna, an olde place of whispered memory and haunting immeasurability; a once thriving city that now lacked a name. Not even the foremost scholars on the Nine Olde Witches knew the true identity of this maze, for it had either been erased or irrevocably lost to time, and so it was dubbed: The Olde Barrows. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two lovers, still embracing, could only shuffle and spin to fully gauge their surroundings; neither wished to let go. When they were comfortable enough to believe themselves to be alone, both Hannah and Barbara retreated from one another, though their fingers remained interlaced. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do we do then?” Barbara asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not stand here. That’s for sure.” Hannah kept looking over her shoulder. “It’s too creepy; I don’t trust it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And anywhere else down here will be different?” Barbara tightened her grip. “Would it be better to wait and see if a rescue team can find us? What if we end up going deeper?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hannah shook her head furiously. “No, no, no! I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> just sitting around and doing nothing! I don’t even care if that’s the smart thing to do, I just—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> always have to take the lead!? What if waiting </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> the smart thing to do!” Barbara interjected with a surprising bit of venom to her words that masqued the deeper urge to cry. The grip grew painfully tight for both of them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, what the hell am I supposed to do with you!? Most of the time </span>
  <em>
    <span>you're</span>
  </em>
  <span> begging </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> to solve </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> problems!” Hannah retorted, and thought to continue, but restrained herself. “Look, no, we are </span>
  <em>
    <span>NOT</span>
  </em>
  <span> doing this right now!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Barbara’s eyes welled with tears, her tone getting muffled by a withheld sob. “Because I trust you Hannah! So why can’t you just trust me for once!?” Barbara gasped for air, briefly hyperventilating. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do trust you Barbara! Do I not make that clear enough!? I go to you all the time for stuff…. It’s….” Hannah looked away; it was hard to see Barbara cry. “It’s just… not that easy to come to you for stuff that really matters. I need to handle that stuff.” That was a habit she didn’t pick up from Amanda, but it certainly matched. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Through quick hyper-gasps, Barbara replied with a blubbering voice. “But we all swore we’d go through our stuff together! No one’s leading this; no one’s in charge! We’re all supposed to go together!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hannah pressed her forehead against Barbara’s. “You’re right, ok! I’m not going back on that. I’m not going back on you or Amanda either! I just… look, it’s not smart to just stay here ok?” Barbara was crying a bit too hard to hear, so Hannah spoke up. “Barbara please, listen!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I… I’m trying…. I’m afraid! I’m so fucking scared and I just…. Why did you make us come down here?”  Barbara was begging for a reason, any reason to justify this madness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because…!” Hannah didn’t have the immediate answer she usually did. She was always on top of things; always primed to face any challenge and take command. But there was nothing that could have prepared any of them for mortal peril; not like this. Still, she needed a reason. Both her pride and her heart wouldn’t allow the question to go unanswered. There </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be a justifiable reason she forced herself and the ones she loved most to risk their necks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Hannah’s thoughts were falling away like petals in tornado winds; there was nothing she could immediately grasp onto. All that was lay in her senses. She was standing in a strange darkness on rocky ground. Her legs trembled, her arms shook. Her mouth was partly agape, and her eyes were wide, but not </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> wide. She screamed internally at the realization.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because if I let Amanda risk her stupid neck one more </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> time without helping even a bit, I was going to scream my god damn lungs out!” Hannah let loose; her lips unthinking. “Because if I sat there not doing anything about our imminent fucking demise, I was going to go insane! Because if I didn’t do anything and you got hurt, I was going to go ballistic! Because IF I JUST LET IT ALL GO….” Hannah was crying too now, and she loathed the vulnerability more than the danger all about her. “Because if I just let it all go now, then why should Ieven keep trying?” She went from shouting to muttering, the wind stolen from her rage filled sails. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Barbara sniffled, sobbing loudly once before putting in her piece. “Then at least listen to me… please! I’ll do whatever you say, whatever you want after all of this…. I don’t care. But if I have to be here, if we’re going to be fighting together, I want to be heard.” Barbara pressed her face against Hannah’s cheek, sobbing into her left ear. “Can you promise me that? And promise Amanda to! I don’t care if she’s not here, just do it now in case….” She didn’t dare finish the thought. “Promise you’ll </span>
  <em>
    <span>listen</span>
  </em>
  <span> when there’s more at stake than just yourself if you’re going to be so god damn heroic!” Her vocal cords strained with grief and frustrations. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hannah was left to contemplate, and time passed as the two shared a weeping hug. Tears needed to be shed, senses gathered, and past behaviors considered. Hannah could not deny she’d been foolishly prideful, and this situation they found themselves in was nothing more than the heights of Hannah’s narcissism. There was neither a point fighting it inwardly or outwardly; reality was as reality did, and it hit hard. Eventually, Hannah nodded. First it was slow, and then it was fervent. “I promise.” And then she said it again for a certain party not present. “I promise.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you’ll listen?” Barbara asked with a light whimper but otherwise flatly, having drained her eyes of tears. “You’ll </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> listen?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hannah continued to not. “I will…. I will, I just…” Hannah had to find the words; she wasn’t about to go back on what she’d just said, but she had a truly terrible feeling about this particular spot. “We need to get away from </span>
  <em>
    <span>right here</span>
  </em>
  <span>. We’re… really deep I think.” She’d gained control of her voice too now, breathing between statements. “And if rescue is coming, then we need to be more visible. Right here is very dark… and very unsettling. After we move for just a bit! Just a bit!” Hannah was bargaining as best she could such that Barbara might understand. “Then we can set up… I dunno, a camp, something. But please, let's just get away from here, ok?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Barbara pulled back slowly, measuring Hannah’s expression in the glum dark of the cave. She could only find Hannah to be wholly genuine in her fear; she wasn't being smug, pretentious, all knowing, or prideful. She genuinely wanted to get away from this place, and her logic was sound enough that Barbara was fine to agree. “Alright. Alright we’ll go and we’ll find somewhere better…. But why do you… hate this spot so much? I mean… you seem really afraid? More than me.”  Barbara bit her lower lip, not wanting to insult Hannah and otherwise not wanting to know why this spot would be so terrifying. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I feel…” Hannah looked around again, digging her nails into Barbara’s hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ow! Watch it! Ow, ow!” The cuts weren’t deep at all, but they stung; Hannah’s nails were quite sharp! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahh!” Hannah recoiled, breathing heavy. “I’m sorry! Sorry, sorry!” She leaned back in for an apologetic hug.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Barbara sighed. “It’s fine just, ow….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I feel we’re… being watched. That’s all. Like that thing is still here. I want to get away before it tries to find us again. Maybe we can get away from it. Does that make sense?” Hannah continued.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It does…. I didn’t really want to think about whatever that was coming back, but your right. We should go. The more time we have to run from it the better.” Barbara was trusting Hannah as she always had; she could only hope Hannah was trusting her now. “Can I lead?” Time to test that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hannah hesitated for only a moment. “Yeah. Yeah you lead. W-Wait, do we still have our wands?” Both of them went to check their belts and for mercy found themselves still equipped. Each sighed with great relief, and Hannah made sure to illuminate the tip of her piece. Now with light, Hannah continued. “Lead on. I’ll keep things lit.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well… you do always brighten things up for me anyway…. You’re good at that.” Barbara averted her gaze, smiling weakly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hannah returned it with a sigh. “Save the flirting for when we’re home, safe, and have Amanda back. Deal?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Deal.” Barbara began giggling then unpromptedly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wh...what are you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought of Amanda… and what you said… pfff….” Barbara held her mouth closed and began down a random direction in the dark halls with Hannah pursuing after. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Said what? Keeping things bright? Lit? What’s funny about—” Hannah grimaced. “I swear to god.” She could </span>
  <em>
    <span>hear</span>
  </em>
  <span> Amanda making a stupid pun about weed in her head, and despite how jarring it was to feel laughter coming on literally a mile or more below the earth, Hannah welcomed it. She wouldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> laugh though; she left Barbara to giggle for her until silence returned, and the dreary atmosphere took over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Twenty minutes came and went with Barbara leading them along, but time was a bit loose down here. It was hard to judge things without a clock or the light of a window to guide their minds, but Barbara was certain it hadn’t been more than a half hour since they started walking. She could tell by how her feet ached; it sucked, but it wasn’t insufferable yet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All the halls and greater caves looked just about as desolate as the one they started in. The only things especially of note that the two passed came in the form of ruined statues, carvings, and smaller doors carved in the walls; they did not dare enter them. They could have been man made, but Barbara wasn’t about to find out. The statues were intriguing at least, along with the carvings, but neither Hannah nor Barbara had the scholarly know-how to identify the ancient remnants beyond minutely educated guesses, not that they were in an exploratory or academic mood to begin with. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It all felt the same, but based on some water Barbara had summoned from vapors in the air, she could tell they were ascending, albeit slowly. She’d put the water to the ground and watched it flow; she’d do this every two minutes or so to check which way gravity was taking things, and it hadn’t steed them wrong so far. Perhaps escape was possible! It certainly seemed that way as the duo came up to a very steep incline. Through the kicking of rocks, cast spells to make their hands stickier, and sweat, Hannah and Barbara were able to scale it, entering through a hole in the ceiling into a new hallway; but this was one different. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cave walls were exchanged in favor of proper stonework here: Empty torch sconces rarely dotted the walls, but it was better than below where no signs of light seemed to exist. The rubbish and ancient junk piles were still everywhere, and had in fact gone from small puddles and scattered remnants to whole heaps of the stuff; this was an arcane-archeologist’s wet dream. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Barbara, after having heaved Hannah up onto the floor, regarded the new surroundings with an awestruck gaze. “Look at all of this…. I think there’s almost as many books in this one hallway as there were up in the archives.” She was mostly glad to see less bones though. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah but are any of them actually readable?” Hannah was on her rear, rubbing at her knees and feet, silently yearning for a break. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Barbara tested the limits of that question, flipping through tome after tome for a minute or so until throwing one over her shoulder in defeat. “Barely.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So much for getting lucky.” Hannah grunted as she pressed on her knees and stood. “Do you… still have any hope we’ll actually find what we came here for?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I have to.” Barbara lamented, pressing past the piles and clambering over the rubble. “If I don’t…. I don’t know what I’d do.” She preferred not to discuss it further. “Let’s just keep moving. We’re out of that cave at least, so we must be headed somewhere better.” They were in the Upper Catacombs layer of The Olde Barrows now; the highest level right before the Sanctum proper. Escaping this sector was much more difficult though: The Lower and Upper Catacombs had many in between routes connecting the two, but only one path allowed easy return to the surface. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hannah agreed with the sentiment Barbara provided; the two moved on. No sooner did they begin again their trek did it halt though. “Hey, up ahead!” Hannah loudly whispered. She was pointing over Barbara’s shoulder at a great stone door that stood about twenty foot tall and fifteen feet wide. It was nothing like any of the other smaller doors and archways they’d passed by or through before, and it was surprisingly free of any clutter or debris at the opening; save for a small huddle of robes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two were forced to investigate it, if only because the very sight of the massive door demanded inspection; it was the closest thing to a landmark down here they’d come across. Dwarfed by the massive entrance, Barbara and Hannah shot their wand-lights up to give a greater view of it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On the door, a massive mosaic was painted and carved: A great circle with a circumference that covered both horizontal edges and reaching halfway to the top and bottom of the door held the image. It was divided into four parts: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One was filled with flames and brimstone and it was diametrically opposed to a verdant and leafy corner. To the right of the flaming corner and above the verdant one a gloom filled grey and blue section was made; it looked like a swamp of sorrows, or a deep ocean of dread. And opposite to that lay the last of the four corners, and it was also grey, but more white than dull. It was pock marked with shining crystal bits that were likely made part of the actual stonework, and most strangely, what appeared to be chunks of  synthetic metal plating was depicted as scattered and jagged across the mountainous landscape. At the very center where all four corners met, a smaller circle was made in gold and four gem-like diamonds were carved upon it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In each of these corners a singular fae creature was shown: From the hellfire-corner, a caprine creature with not one but four sets of horns held out both of its claw like hands toward the middle. In the gloomy corner, a being that would be best described as a “swamp thing” with piercing yellow eyes beneath a heavy veneer of moss and sea-weed was shown to be clasping for the center with a singular hulking arm with a three fingered hand. In the mountainous corner a machine, vaguely humanoid, but clearly possessing more humanity than most men claim to have, held out a half broken clamp. Finally, in the verdant and wyld corner, a pixie with butterfly wings reached toward the middle. They all desired that central disk, whatever it was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a sight to behold, one that Hannah found especially fantastical given her penchant for studying all things fae and fair. She couldn’t identify each of the Fae beings shown, but she knew of the “archetypes.” Words briefly failed her as she spotted words circularly written around the golden disk in the center; she was trying to determine what was written, but struggled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Barbara picked up where Hannah could not speak. “Do you think we could… open it?” She moved closer to the door, reaching out to touch it, hopeful that it was a gateway to a safer place. Hannah snatched Barbara’s hand though with a sudden quickness. “H-Hey!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t! Not yet! I… don’t trust it. There’s something written up there, and I’m not about to deal with anything made by Fae without knowing </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> what it is.” Hannah had studied most on the wyld Fae, given that’s what the curriculum actually allowed the study of, but one thing was consistent across all types of Fae: Say what you mean, mean what you say, and for </span>
  <em>
    <span>gods’ sakes’</span>
  </em>
  <span> read the fine print! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Barbara pulled away, sucking in her lips and gulping at the thought of some crazy enchantment on the door. “Should we wait here then? We don’t have to go inside, I mean, we were just looking to get higher up and near somewhere more recognizable anyway; right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y-Yeah, but, give me a second….” Hannah stood on the tips of her toes, struggling to read the print from that height.  “Actually, could you levitate me?” She fell back onto the flats of her feet with a sigh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, sure? If it will help.” Barbara made a half figure eight motion with her wand, tapping it on Hannah’s shoulder, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Tia Freyre.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>which had her rising slowly through the air. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once Hannah was at equal height with the golden disk in the mural, she signaled down for Barbara to halt her in place. Once steady, she raised her lit wand to read the words aloud. To her surprise, they were half in Lunar script and half in Faerie Tongue, or “Faul Un Faer” as it is otherwise known; the language of the Fae Lords and higher Fae beings. In Lunar script, the first half of the statement read: “MAY THEY WHO CLAIM TO KNOW THE TRUTHS OF FRIENDSHIP AND LOVE DWELL ONLY ON EARTH,” And the second half, in Faerie Tongue, was: “FOR THE MIDDLE KINGDOMS WELCOME NOT THE TREACHERIES OF CERTAINTY.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Weeeeird….” It was the first and only thing to initially come to Hannah’s mind; the statement was puzzling without context. Ultimately, without said context Hannah felt no reason to test the strength of the door; it was too dangerous. “Alright, bring me down!” Hannah hollered to Barbara, only to receive a shushing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Quiet! We don’t know if that plant thing can hear! Or if something else is down here either!” Barbara warned with as loud of a whispering voice as she could manage. In the meantime, Hannah was let down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>During her descent, Hannah sighed. “Fine, fine, sorry.” Once she was level on the ground, she made sure to use a more inside voice. “But we’re not getting through here. Not safely at least.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure? What if that’s the way out!?” Barbara pressed herself against Hannah. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, if it is, it’s probably safer to open from that side rather than this side! And besides, we fell </span>
  <em>
    <span>waaay</span>
  </em>
  <span> too far for this to be the exit. Let’s just hunker down here and wait for rescue, like you said.” Hannah began walking over toward a mildly comfy looking pile of books and jumble only to then trip over the small bundle of rags in front of the door. “Waah!—Oof!” She received a face full of dust and stone for that mis-step, and was holding her face while swearing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hannah!” Barbara came over to check the wound, but in doing so, she saw what lay beneath the rag-bundle: The unmistakably grim image of a complete skeleton. Barbara shrieked back like a mouse; she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrible</span>
  </em>
  <span> with dead things. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ow! Damnit! What now!?” Neither of them were doing a good job of staying quiet. Hannah sat herself up, minding the bruise on her nose and forehead, and looked to the shivering Barbara and the corpse between them. “Oooh…. That’s… euch….” Hannah covered her nose, the smell of death becoming more pungent now if only because she’d been made aware of the source. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s dead right? Like really dead? If it gets up I swear I—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Babs, please, calm down!” Hannah pleaded. “Let's just… move them somewhere else. I’ll… do it I guess if you don’t want to touch it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nope! Not touching it! Not even looking at it! Corpse? What corpse?” Barbara spun around while on her rear, hiding her face. She was barely capable of handling the loose bones everywhere, but an </span>
  <em>
    <span>actual</span>
  </em>
  <span> human skeleton was far too much for her fears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, alright! I already said I would.” Hannah rolled her eyes, took in a deep breath, and carefully began to drag the boney body away. Just as it had been taken a few feet away though, Hannah noticed a small book was left behind; the human had died on it, or perhaps it was in their clutches pre-mortem. Hannah had a feeling she should examine it, as it appeared to be less damaged than most of the literature down here, but just as she grabbed it, Barbara called out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“H-Hannah!” She was scrambling backward, eventually getting onto her feet and raising her wand at the direction of the hole they’d emerged from. Only now did Hannah see the hole was </span>
  <em>
    <span>brighter</span>
  </em>
  <span>, like a torch was lighting the way, but that couldn’t be right. “Something’s coming!” Then came the noises: The sounds of hissing and sizzling, like coals on a fire. Then came </span>
  <em>
    <span>reptilian</span>
  </em>
  <span> hissing, until one of the creatures made itself known by slithering out of the hole at high speed. A fire salamander! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hannah quickly stowed the leather-bound book in her pocket and ran for Barbara who was casting a watery spell to douse the flaming lizard. The reptile was faster though; it had heard them from far away and wasn’t hunting alone. It surged forward with breath-aflame, and only by way of Hannah tackling Barbara to the ground did they both dodge it’s fireball attack unscathed. “GET UP! RUN!” Hannah urged, already pulling the two of them up and away from the floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“RUN TO WHERE!?” Barbara questioned, perhaps foolishly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ANYWHERE BUT HERE!” Hannah retorted as the two began to sprint off down the ancient corridors with a pack of the fire salamanders in tow; screams and lizardly shrieks filled the Upper Catacombs for some time to follow. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda awoke with a scream; not one of fear, but anger. She was already raising her wand to fire off at anything that dared move and wasn’t Hannah or Barbara shaped. All she could see though was darkness, dizzying shapes of refuse and rubble, and stone walls all around her. Sweat covered her face and dampened her clothes like she’d been bedridden with a high fever, but the real sickness sat like a cannonball in her gut. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She coughed and hacked up a small cloud of the crimson things, now hunched over her own legs as her body rebelled against the invading entities. She shivered and shook, quaked and quivered, but only with time could the sleeping sickness pass. During that whole shocking ordeal, Amanda was left to ponder her location, the fate of Hannah and Barbara, and just where to go from here. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was still acting on a hair trigger; anything could set her off in this absolutely furious state, but it was hard to act when your whole body could hardly move. A headache consumed her though, and she fell to the side with a thud as consciousness slipped from her once again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Her half-sleep filled visions were then beset by nightmarish thoughts: The imagery of Hannah and Barbara being eaten by some eldritch and abominable plant monster in vividly disturbing detail. Amanda’s mind cursed her body for being unable to be roused just by the thought of their loss alone, leaving her tossing and turning, fighting sleep itself with barely understandable groans and weak shouts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda must have come in and out of that horrible state at least five times before she found herself on her stomach, fiercely awake, and with a ringing in her ears. With balled up fists and white knuckles, Amanda pressed off of the cobble flooring that filled the Upper Catacombs, shouting at the top of her lungs. “HANNAH!” She coughed and spat bile before yelling again. “BARBARA!” Desperation, anger, fear; all three emotions were equally present in her voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What Amanda didn’t expect though, in this groggy and hazy state, was a response. Hannah’s voice, unmistakably called back. “AMANDA!” It too was filled with fear, with desperation, and it brought Amanda to stand with lightning reflexes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Immediately, Amanda fell right back over, but now her body surged with electric energies; she was going to find those two and save them, one way or another. “HANNAH!” She replied longingly as her body suppressed another wave of bile. “BARBARA?!” She only heard Hannah’s voice, but as if on cue, the distant voices replied. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“AMANDA!” It was Barbara’s voice now, but were it not for Amanda’s dizzied state, she’d know it was just lightly off. “HELP!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’M COMING! HOLD—” Amanda finally succumbed to her sickness and made a mess of the floor in front of her, holding her hands on her wobbling knees. Then her strength gave way, and she was forced to fall into that disgusting pile, staining her button up and jacket. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This was the lowest she’d ever been. Lower than when she was a young child crying in the corner of her room as her father and brothers berated; she was a failure to them. Lower than when she had to lie and play games of corporate politics for her parents just to get into Luna Nova; it was the only time she’d ever done something they wanted, and even then, they did not love her. Lower than when she was travelling abroad and found her family card had been revoked; she was cut off from her funds and was homeless in the middle of Madrid. This was bottom of the barrel; coated in the bile of her own weakness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On top of all her ailments, bitter memories had to rise to the surface and haunt her with vivid voices accompanying: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Pathetic.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The voice of her eldest brother chided, just as he had when Amanda first fell from her broom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“A worthless endeavor! I didn’t raise you to waste your potential!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her mother added in regard to the first time Amanda ever expressed interest in magic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What is this? What is this FILTH Amanda? I don’t know what you’ve been reading, but I am NOT allowing you to defile this household with smut like this!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her father bellowed, referring to the time Amanda had been caught with a browsing history centered around understanding what it meant to be a Lesbian, to reject feminine norms, to find herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“If she flunks, do I get her shares?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda’s elder, but ultimately the middle child of the O’Neill family, stated when he thought he was alone with their parents while Amanda listened from the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An enfilade of scornfully remembered lines fired off and looped in Amanda’s mind, all while the faux voices of Hannah and Barbara kept calling out. Then came the gut-punch line from a recent memory of Sucy: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You can keep acting like you’re in control and die unsatisfied, or you can</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“FUCK YOU!” Amanda shouted to just about everything and anything in existence, psychological or physical that impeded her. She knew she was weak. She knew she was pathetic. She knew she couldn’t protect them. And on some level, part of Amanda still thought her very existence to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But more truthuly, Amanda knew she was the only one who could save Hannah and Barbara now, and by all the gods known and unknown, she was going to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But despite all that rage, all that fury and fervor, Amanda could barely walk. Her bones were no longer broken, by some miracle, but that sickness still consumed her. Against all odds, Amanda was hobbling and forcing herself to shamble along the desolate halls, bouncing between one wall and the other for support as her vision blurred and distorted. Every time she felt the voices come back, Amanda blasted a Murowa at the specters her spore-addled mind conjured and shouted. “FUCK OFF!” Stones were shaken loose, book piles obliterated, and ancient remains defiled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She could never recall how long she spent wandering in that state, for the next thing she knew, she was waking up on the floor again with a bleeding forehead. She must have fallen, she surmised, and while that normally was usually a bad thing, that malaise had mostly left her, but those damnable voices would always haunt her. Amanda didn’t care how long she was out; she didn’t care for anything anymore. She almost didn’t care for Hannah and Barbara, if only because her mind had been pushed to breaking from the stress; the memories. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda wouldn’t allow herself to fall into complete despondency, and rose one last time to her feet with a heaving breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The screams of Hannah and Barbara made themselves known again, and Amanda swore through huffs and puffs at a wispy volume. “I’m coming…. Hold on….” And with that, she was walking, then jogging, running, sprinting! Small blood droplets marked the tiniest trail of where Amanda was going, and the wound on her forehead had now left her face half bloodied. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Left, right, around that turn, then this turn; damn this maze! Amanda had possibly run herself in every which possible way, but her legs didn’t tire, in spite of the acid building in her muscles. It was a neverending sprint to the finish as she followed the voices as best she could; they were the only thing keeping her alive. In time, Amanda should have realized something was off, but she could neither reason nor be reasoned with. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eventually, the faux screams led to her a great stone door marked by a stone circle: Three lances were carved into the edifice with a great flame behind them, and the lances were all touching and cross, with the words “This Fire is Ours” written in both a proto-French language and Lunar script. Amanda had no patience to read it; not that she was very literate in French or Lunar script to begin with. Amanda pushed against the door with all of her might, grunting and grinding her teeth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to open…” Amanda began, eyes clenched in pain and effort, “Or I’m going to make you open!” She finished with a heavy sigh, panting as she pulled away from the closed entrance. Amanda readied her wand, sucked in her full lungs worth of air, and cast </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Ars Implodera!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The space around the very center of the door, right where the carved seal lay, a small vacuum event occured, sucking in all the space around it. In the next instant, the implosion blew both of the stone halves that comprised the door into tiny pieces, sending shrapnel luckily away from Amanda and deeper into the room she was seeking entrance to. The screams that Amanda had been hearing a moment ago instantly faded, in part due to her ringing ears, but otherwise because they had ceased; the luring presence that brought her here was no longer required to keep up the ruse. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without a sense of hearing, Amanda sprinted with braced arms in front of her face into the room. She went down a singular hallway and turned to the left, now free from the smokey and debris filled passage, only to find herself in a grander chamber containing a most peculiar scene: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bodies were strewn about the chamber, though most were not even vaguely human. They were toad like, massive, and predominantly a dull red and brown. Among those bodies were more familiar shapes. They were definitely human-looking remains, but every bit of skin was hidden by armor and bandaging, though strangely the bodies did not bleed. Weapons, rusted, shattered, dulled and ancient, were scattered both in the bodies and on the floor; the site of a recent battle in the shadow of a grand statue of a lance wielding witch with no head. The conflict was actually still ongoing, but it had come down to the last of the contenders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two humanoid knights in dirty black irons and leather coats, their faces covered by scarfs with bandagings flitting in the wind from the elbows, shoulders, and back, were in pitched combat with a massive toad like monster. Their weapons were as old as the others scattered about, and they both wielded heavy claymores, holding them in both hands from a high guard position, strafing in unison in opposite directions to encircle the monster. Even the top of their heads was concealed by a long diamond shaped hat one might expect on a medieval huntsman; equally pointy and long in both directions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The monster in greater detail was a sort of amphibious thing resembling a frog or toad; if a frog or toad was conceived in the mind of someone with a great phobia for such things. The thing actually possessed </span>
  <em>
    <span>teeth</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and quite a heavy set of them. Their maws were like that of a huge angler fish, jagged, thin, but razor sharp and difficult to count; their underbites would make a dentist faint. They were muscled, hunched, and stood at around sixt feet; seven if they fixed that horrible posture. Where one might expect froggy flippers, only crushing claws and pseudo-fists were to be found. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The beast, a Throgg, caught between the two remaining knights, constantly looked between the left and right most enemies before unleashing with reckless abandon. It aimed for the leftmost foe, swinging it’s heavy tree-trunk arms in a wicked windmill, swiping down before cutting up with a gurgling roar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The knight evaded, deftly leaping back and sliding on their heels despite the weight of their gear, and moved to counter attack with a thrusting lunge forward. The sword made solid contact, but without being able to put a full weight strike into the attack, the blade made a weak impact and deflected off of the slimy and surprisingly resilient amphibian hide. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda watched this exchange unfold with her hands now rubbing her eyes; this seemed both wholly bizarre and extremely intriguing, enough to distract her from the taunting voices and the screams that led her here. The idea of an entire battalion of people down here fighting off monsters sparked in the dazed and disoriented American, notions of hope; that she might be aided by the mysterious swordsmen. For the moment though, she could only watch, as part of her held reservations that despite fighting off such brutish beasts, these knights, or whatever they were, could be just as hostile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rightmost knight, having been left open, made for a lancing charge with their sword, wordlessly plunging it into the back of the Throgg to the creature's rancor. With its left arm, it batted the first knight like a fly, sending them tumbling a few feet away, and with its right arm, it spun about, thrashing viciously until making solid fist contact with the impaler’s gut.  That knight was shunted up a foot in the air from the sheer power of the blow, and hit the ground with a resolute thud; their sword was still stuck in the creature’s back though, even if it didn’t seem to care now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now the ball was in the Throggs court, and it took advantage by getting on all fours, looking like a devilish knuckle-dragger, and lept up as a normal toad might, to land on the swordless knight with a crushing impact blow. Amanda winced and stumbled back at the display of sheer power and physical strength, disquieted by the ungodly </span>
  <em>
    <span>CRUNCH</span>
  </em>
  <span> that sounded from the knight’s spine surely being shattered. Meanwhile, the other warrior was left to recuperate, and did so with surprising grace, showing no signs of pain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two combatants met eyes, the Throgg roared in anger, and began bounding for the lone warrior who took a standard guard posture with their blade, leaving it angled up and out in front of them. The ensuing clash had the knight shunting to the side, and Amanda could have sworn she saw magic at play with little faerie-fire like sparks marking the position once held. Having dodged the rampaging thing’s first assault in a blinding motion, the knight made a horizontal cut along it’s left forearm and then a downward angled strike from the opposite direction to sever it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Throgg shrieked and held its stump briefly, only to kick the warrior away amidst its pain filled tantrum, buying it precious space. The battle was reset once more, but now the Throgg had a clear disadvantage; despite that, the warrior could not react quickly enough to the things tongue-shot, which disarmed them, hurling the blade off to the side. Now without a proper weapon, the knight backed up, but not out of fear: They were searching for a proper opportunity to re-arm. It never came. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even when armless, a Throgg’s killing power is never to be questioned. It came in a one armed dive, pinning the knight to the ground and distending its massive jaw to try and bite their head off. Now most certainly using magic, the warrior held up both hands and made a weak magic barrier which held open the gaping maw, but was cracking, surely, like slowly crushed window-panes. The warriors eyes, which Amanda just noticed were strangely bright and blue, fell to her, staring beyond the flesh that was her body and into her soul; a call for aid.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda looked around nervously, but got serious quick. She came sprinting across the precipice, deftly leaping over fallen bodies of Throggs and knights alike, using a small boost of wind from her wand to have her catapulted into the air. Now fifteen feett above the engagement, Amanda let gravity do the work. With a battle cry yell, Amanda caught the handle of the blade in the Throgg’s back, and from the force of her landing, ripped a gaping hole down the creatures back, spilling blood and spinal fluid as the thing recoiled and cried. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pinned knight, having been given an opportunity, let go of the barrier spell and socked the toad thing in the mouth, shattering some of its teeth and leaving it reeling, dazed. They got up on their feet in a singular quick hop-up motion, secured a blade embedded in a body nearby, and met Amanda’s eyes once more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda, having ripped her weapon free, and now on the opposite side of the stunned Throgg, twirled her weapon into a low-standing guard. The handle stuck against her shoulder with the blade held out; her stance wide and center of mass low. She met the knight’s eyes, and nodded with them. She shouted, “HAAAAAAAH!” in a screaming sprint toward the Throgg from the back, while the last knight wordlessly moved in like a blur from the front; it was impaled from both sides, each fighters’ blades coming out the other end just inches from the other’s face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few solemn moments were given as Amanda caught her breath and the thing died a gurgling death. Both swords were removed and the thing collapsed in an undignified heap. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Heh… well, that was fun.” It was almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> short; a welcome exercise and distraction from her woes. Amanda never got to have “fun” fighting really dangerous stuff often, let alone with a sword; only twice since the Appleton affair. What surprised her more than all of this however was the stance the warrior took then. They began pacing back and forth, blade dragging on the floor, dripping with blood. A single hand extended up, pointed at Amanda, and then palemed the knight’s chest, beating it twice; a challenge. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, wait, wait….” Amanda stepped back, leering, sizing up the being. “What the hell man? Didn’t I just help save your ass?” She half readied her blade nonetheless; so much for finding help. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The knight, with a piercing blue-flamed stare, leaned forward, stiffly bowing with their blade wielding hand moving the sword behind their back. Their free hand was held out half way, invitingly so, with a bent elbow. The warrior was a formal sort, they followed older codes and traditions. They awaited in that position, nodding slowly to Amanda. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-What? Oh you want me to bow too? So, what is this, to the death!? I got two girlfriends to save, I can’t be wasting my time with this!” Amanda dismissed him with an arm being thrown to the side angrily. Still, the knight persisted, now nodding vigorously as the doors that Amanda had entered through suddenly closed; moved by a force unseen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh… so that’s how it is.” Amanda stabbed the sword down into the ground, cracked her knuckles, and spat. “You picked the wrong day to fuck with Amanda O’Neill.” Fire was on her breath, literally for a moment, as her favored magic escaped into her surroundings. She resecured the stabbed sword, examined it, and then brought her wand to meet it at the pommel. With a whispered spell, the two became one; rust fell away, the blade got smaller, but a bit thicker, and the dull edges were resharpened. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a flick, blood splattered away from it, and Amanda took on a one-foot-forward posture. She leaned forward, her eyes never breaking contact with the dueling knight’s own, brought her sword wielding arm behind her back, and gestured outward with her free hand. “Let’s dance! I’ll lead!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The knight hissed like a kettle on a dull wind, seeming to have opened their mouth beneath the cloth, but otherwise made no noise. Both combatants rose, and as Amanda promised, she opened up the engagement with a blast forth from a phos spell, slashing down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The attack wasn’t predictable, but that made it all the more worrisome to Amanda when the knight blocked high perfectly with their sword pointed out at Amanda rather than away. With their blades crossed for only a moment, the warrior thrust forth, being in the advantageous position due to the angle, forcing Amanda to lean back. She stepped away and batted aside the sword that so couldn’t be brought further out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The warrior then came for a quick low sweep from their left, forcing Amanda to block to her bottom right, but they weren’t done, and alternated to the high and left in a lightning fast pirouette; one not possible were they a swordsman not using magic. Amanda met that as well, but she was at a loss for openings. With the second block, Amanda tried grinding her blade along their length to make a swipe for either of the knights’ hands, but was thwarted by a misdirection of the steel off of the warriors raised right gauntlet. Amanda’s weapon slid along it, doing negligible damage, and fell to the ground. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The knight’s weapon was raised and came down quick;  Amanda had no time to raise her own weapon and relied on quick reflexes to get away. She was cut hard on the side of her left forearm. “Dagh!” With one arm holding her blade, she held her wound tightly as the two swordsmen reset themselves. Amanda set to work, breathing harder now, and put what little healing magic she knew to use; the bleeding was staunched, the wound closed, but it wouldn’t hold, never mind the threat of rust in her bloodstream. These weren’t exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>clean</span>
  </em>
  <span> weapons!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’d underestimated the nameless swordsman, and it was costing her; all that bragging for naught. The voices came back, and based on the knight’s hesitancy to take advantage of Amanda in her troubled state where she fought them off and cursed in whispers to herself, it was as though they could sense the emotional pain. Amanda never fully let her guard down, but she was troubled; she didn’t sign up to die to some nobody bladesman below Luna Nova, not when so much was riding on her living. Hannah and Barbara still needed saving, Constanze needed a partner to get her vengeance, and Amanda had too much life left to live. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite all the naysaying of her spectral family voices, conjured by a tormented mind, Amanda would not let herself be bested easily. She redoubled her efforts; took a tighter stance, thought harder on those classes she took, on the fundamentals of sword fighting, on her own tricks and maneuvers; time to live up to that bragging. “Alright…. Come on!” She bit her lower lip. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two then charged at one another; they made exchanges in flashes of steel: Up, low, mid, to the left and right their weapons went. Then both brought out the “big guns” so to speak. The knight began using their magic. They shifted in a hazy puff away from a strike that should have landed, and ended up behind her, sword raised to end it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda had seen that trick used on the Throgg already though and blasted fire from her palm behind her without even looking. The knight was sent tumbling back, their rags and clothes burned, dichotomizing the blue flame of their eyes with the orange and yellow of their raiments. Where normal mortals would fear such heat, the knight simply stood up and paced patiently; another reset. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda turned and got in position one final time. She wasn’t letting this duel go any further. If they could survive immolation, a battle of endurance was out of the question, and sure enough, as the rags and cloth fell away, it was revealed that a mere skeleton wore the raiments of the swordsman. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda took a brief inventory of her wounds; they were increasing in number, but minor. Neither fighter was down or out yet, but that was about to change. The final clash began with Amanda wordlessly charging at the skeletal swordsman, her sword feigning high. The trick came when she made to swing, for instead of following through, Amanda never halted her momentum and instead slide-kicked the fighter right out onto their stomach. They lost grip of their sword, and with another blast of momentum from a phos spell, Amanda slid to the wall, lept up to wall run it for just a moment, and blasted off of it with another phos spell. The knight only had time to grab their blade and rise to an all-fours position. Their final sight was of Amanda spearing toward them all too quickly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Impaled, the knight’s embered eyes slowly went dark with a windy gasp. Amanda had crashed into him with enough force to break the tip of her sword into the stone below and grind the body of her opponent a few feet away from where it first was; she was breathing heavily, chuckling. “Heheh… hah!” Her joints didn’t appreciate the impact, but with a bit of a shrug off, Amanda rose to self congratulate with a quick arm thrust and a wordlessly mouthed </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Shit yeah!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She’d finally put that trick she was training on into practice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her celebrations would have to be saved for later though, as the dead began to rise once more. They were slowly regenerating, their bones, if removed from the original bodies, began sliding and crawling back. Amanda froze, and then tumbled onto her back, fumbling the blade impaling the body she was standing on back into her hands as the warrior rumbled back to life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rubbing her already bloody head and face, she had a dazed view from the floor of the warriors all gathering their things and pushing the bodies. It seems the Throggs came from a medium sized hole in the far back corner of the chamber where water had risen; likely from an underwater river. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a moment or two of confusion, Amanda sat back up, surprised she was being wholly ignored by the skeletal guardians; until one fighter in particular, the knight the Throgg had crushed by leaping onto just before the duel, came up and held out a hand offered in aid. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda accepted it, stood up, nodding appreciably to the dead woman; Amanda had a feeling </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> skeleton was a woman, like her stare communicated the thought to Amanda’s mind before she could have considered it. She hadn’t gotten a feeling or idea of gender regarding the other skeleton though; they likely eschewed it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> The dead woman returned it, and then rudely snatched the blade Amanda was holding; it was hers after all. She then held it up, admired the enchantment Amanda had put on it, and did away with it by running her gauntleted hand slowly across the weapon’s form. The wand fell away, and Amanda caught it out of the air with a quick snatch. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amanda wasn’t a fan of the manhandling, but she could respect and understand the important bonds that formed between women and their swords, so she let it go. The two shared respectful stares and then the skeletal guardian left her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda twirled around, eyeing the procession curiously as it did away with the Throgg corpses in the pool before funneling into the side chambers, no doubt their tombs, to sleep again. It happened all so fast, they were organized like an ant colony, but they still all wholly possessed an individuality and personality; Amanda could tell just by how each of them walked and carried themselves. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now, Amanda was alone, in a room clean of all signs of combat save blood puddles and smears; the doors remained closed however, and that didn’t serve to improve her mood. “Fantastic….” She looked about with a barely held together composure. Now that the immediate thrill of a battle was set aside, she could take in more of the room's actual contents; perhaps something useful lay within, a sign of Hannah or Barbara even. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was quite the large space, something akin to a great hall based on the overturned and crushed long tables that the Throggs no doubt had a part in destroying. Candle wax, books, plates, and other such things were scattered around the ruined furniture, lending more credence to the grand hall theory. Off by the walls, bookshelves and weapon-holders were kept surprisingly clean, likely by the diligence of the undead guardians that were surprisingly welcoming, if quiet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, at the very end of the rectangular room, a destroyed statue in the vague shape of a robed and partly armored woman stood tall. Her head had been removed, fallen by the wayside to the left; it was hardly even recognizable due to how it landed, the face having long since shattered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The robed woman stood proud and tall, head or not, and was surrounded from the back by a spiky rank of lances, all pointing up and away, making the display look like a peacocks’ tail feathers’. The statue itself also held a lance, but one that was unique; it bore a spiral pattern like a narwhals’ horn, and was taller than the actual height of the statue's body. A floral pattern rendered in stone began at the hilt and stretched along its length up to the tip where the vines terminated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> At the base of the display, beneath the feet of the sculpture, Amanda noticed something familiar. It was surrounded by brooms, much like the smaller shrine up in the Sanctum dormitories. The sight drew Amanda closer, slowly at first out of curiosity, but quicker then at the slow realization; with a working broom, she could navigate this maze thrice as fast! Perhaps it was the key to her escape as well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She came up to the pile of offered brooms and felt her hope drain; many of the brooms were so old as to be falling apart at the hairs. Amanda could hardly even sense magic in some of them, like the enchantments had worn off after centuries of unuse, and Amanda certainly wasn’t sure how to apply such enchantments on her own. She cursed under her breath and began digging through the arrangements frustratedly, tossing the old sticks and rods aside like garbage. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still, she found nothing of use. All that came up was the carved words that were previously hidden beneath the broom pile, and while Amanda normally wouldn’t care to even examine it, the fact that she could read it at a glance had her eyes lingering. “Jehanne Du Aquitaine…?” The name was clear of course, but the strangeness came with the legibility of the epitaph which Amanda mumbled. “Fourth of Nine: Born in the sixth century… died in fourteen twelve…. Damn that’s old.” She added in before continuing. “A witch of unshakable bravery and daring enginuity. Progenitor of the broom riding arts, kindler of the first Balefire, defender of the innocent and arcane.” Amanda slowly set down the broom she was about to throw away after she read that and crossed her arms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Quite the resume.” She wiped her face only to look at the dried blood that came off of her palm and became keenly aware of her bleeding state once more. “Not fuckin’ helpful though.” Amanda made her way over to the pool the Throggs were disposed of in and washed her wounds and face; stray bandages from the undead were taken and used to wrap up her arm and forehead, and all the while Amanda was left pondering. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had certainly heard the screams and voices of Hannah and Barbara; they led her here. It was unmistakably so. Where then did they go? And if they weren’t here, then what was imitating them? Amanda’s mind dwelled on the pursuit she gave down the abyssal shaft, the strangling vines that snatched Hannah and Barbara, and her failure to save them then. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She could hardly get past the ever present and crushing weight of her self imposed inadequacy, but she was able to at least look past it enough to see that things weren’t adding up. If that weird flower wanted Hannah and Barbara, where did that wind come from that blew Amanda away; was it a spell? Why did the flower seemingly heal her? Was it trying to bring Amanda here all along? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If the answer to that was yes, then clearly Amanda still needed to find something, and frankly it was the only reasonable assumption she could go off of. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda splashed her face one final time and took a few deep breaths. She stood, looked around with a glare, and then yelled into the dark corners of the great hall. “I know you can hear me you damn weed!” She didn’t but she was going a tad crazy. “I don’t know what the hell you want with me, but I don’t give a damn! I ain’t here to play games!” Still, no response came, but she persisted. “I’m here to get my girlfriends back! I’m here to try and save this stuffy ass school! I’m here to save every witch in it! And I’m not about to let you, whatever the hell you are, waste any more of my goddamn time!” Clearly she was because she was still yelling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So come on! I’ll torch you and every monster you got stuck down here and more if that’s what it takes! Come out and fight me like a real woman! Hermano-a-mano! Er, Plant-a… oh you get the fuckin’ point!” She threw up her wand to be at the ready, expecting a response that would never come directly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Silence persisted and eventually Amanda was left pacing in a circle and groaning as loudly as possible. “Ohhhh… come… the FUCK… on!” She swore with a blast of fire sent randomly out toward the statue of Jehanne.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The firebolt struck the center of the lance sculpture, and to Amanda’s slow surprise, the flames caught on the carved vines, snaking along the whole length. Slowly, Amanda turned to witness the whole display start to become alight: The flames danced from Jehanne’s lance to the many behind her, each becoming a great torch in its own right. When the final lance was lit, the chamber began to tremble as the fires turned a bright blue. Amanda nearly fell over, forcing herself to brace against the wall as a secret chamber opened behind the statue of Jehanne. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When all was said and done, Amanda shook her head, whispering in weary jest to herself. “Might as well go buy a whip and work at a museum at this rate Amanda….” She started toward the newly opened passage, and what she found seemed all too meager to warrant such secrecy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All that lay within the small room, no bigger than a large broom closet, was a brazier of weak blue flames atop a waist high altar. Within the brazier, a well burnt and near crumbling torch stuck out. All else of note was but dust and ash. “That’s it?” Amanda threw her arms up before letting them slap against her sides. “If this is a puzzle,” Amanda stepped to the brazier and reached for the torch, “Then I’m just gonna start blasting things until it wor—” and upon lifting it from the blue brazier, the thing surged with a blinding fury. The torch fell to pieces, but the blue flame that once engulfed it now shot up Amanda’s arm; it was consuming her! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She immediately tried dropping to the floor, instinctively screaming and cursing, but just as she hit the ground and began to roll, she noticed the lack of pain. Amanda slowly rose to her knees, holding up her arms and beholding the flames; she’d seen weirder, but given the high stakes, this must have been important somehow. She experimented with it, running one hand over her other arm, and still, she felt no heat. She stumbled out of the brazier room and picked up a wayward book; it did not burn. Then as she dropped the ancient tome Amanda felt a great burning in her chest as the flames suddenly receded, as if going deep beneath her skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She fell to the floor, coughing up smoke and blue embers; now EVERYTHING was hot! She clawed at her chest, slapped the floor, and wordlessly begged for mercy or release. Her very vision became an inferno; everywhere she looked, fire danced in her periphery, flames roared. She could hear the crackle of a pyre in her soul; the experience was all consuming! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda eventually crawled out toward the distant pool water, desperate for coolness, for relief, and came face to face with the broken statue-head of Jehanne. It was still lying where it was before, but now Amanda felt transfixed by it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A voice came, its dulcet tones soothing the raging hellfire within: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Let burn your blood with a fury! May your heart be warmed by embers, and your lungs fill with smoke! Bring your soul to bear that it might blaze!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda clawed at the stone still, hurrying past the statue with all of her willpower; water, she needed water! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The voice continued: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Where I began the flame, you must feed it! Seek glory and burn brightly!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aaaagh!” Amanda cried out, her throat scorched and ragged. Internally, her mind screamed back at the intruding voice. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Get it out of me! I’m not your sacrifice!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It ignored her demands. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Where once this flame was mine, now it is yours.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I didn’t ask for this!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Amanda thought in retort, now inches from the pool. As he hand dipped into the waters though, it boiled and bubbled; there was no salvation to be had there, and Amanda cursed in recoil, her whole body convulsing and trembling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Go and bear the torch well, good hunter, lest darkness consume all. Remember well our creed: All that is demanded of those who seek to defeat evil, is that they stand up, and fight!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The voice thundered, Amanda’s mind ached, but the heat receded! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda was left gasping for air like a fish out of water; she examined herself in a frenzied panic. No burns were found, no smoke came from her mouth, all seemed well. She scrambled back to the pool and dunked her head into it, drinking from the wholly unsanitary waters with desperate need. No sooner did she drink though did she rise, spit out the remaining water, and continue floundering for air. In time, thankfully, her shocked body calmed down; her breaths becoming better paced. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda heaved and huffed slowly after a solid ten minutes of writhing, and now she was still. Her vision still occasionally danced with flames on the periphery; she was changed, but she could not know fully what that change was yet. All she could do for now was regain her strength and hope to never experience that burning ever again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The groaning of stone, the creaking of ancient doors; the way out was opening! Amanda shot up, unwilling to question or know exactly what had just occurred, and sloppily sprinted toward the door. Hannah and Barbara were still out there, there was still a stuffy school to save, witches still in danger; Amanda meant what she said and said what she meant. She was here to protect all of those aforementioned things, and no ancient boon or curse, whatever it was, could hold her from that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A massive alien flower of red and pink petals could though, which was exactly what Amanda stumbled into once rounding the corner. She fell onto her back and held her head tightly, eyes shut tight. “You gotta be fuckin’ me….” Was the last thing she said before being given a faceful of crimson, her legs and arms immediately losing all sense; her body was limp.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her vision blurred and sleep came quickly once again, but she had just enough fight in her to resist the immediate loss of consciousness. In the moments of resistance between awakeness and flowery dreams, Amanda heard a voice like a spring breeze over a meadow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Forgive me.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, Amanda could fight the allure of rest no longer. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze had been scouring the Upper Catacombs for at least half an hour now; her vision was all green by way of the night-vision headset and the helmet torch that cast a high intense beam forward. She was careful, prepared, and planning for the future, but none of that made this venture any easier. Those were the only things that were probably keeping Constanze from losing her composure. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had been laying beacons at every intersection, simple glow sticks with a color code to show which direction she came from and which direction to go to get back. She was running low now, and while she could always rely on magic to light her path, the prospect of things getting dark overall didn’t sit well with her. Still, she had to follow the path marked by recent footsteps; Amanda must have come before her, or perhaps Hannah and Barbara got free and ran this way, it was the only thing that could make sense.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze breathed measuredly, steadily; she had to stay cool or risk setting off an otherwise unavoidable trap or perhaps be ambushed by some deep dwelling horror. She ran into several ankle biting bugs that were far too large for her liking a while back, and a massive web almost had her caught for dinner; mercifully she didn’t actually see the thing that spun it. Calmness kept her from injury in those times, and it would do so now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Calmness was in fact the one thing Constanze could always rely on, until recently. Before her family died, no so-called “tragedy” or bad news could truly shake her. She grew anxious, upset, and retreated often, but once alone, she recuperated and came back twice as strong. To lose that center, that ability to come back from a bad state of mind; for Constanze, that was a death sentence. In the wake of a burned out Ludinghal though, Constanze had felt her very soul was unstable, shaken and rickety as an old bridge. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as Constanze was coming out of a particular dark tunnel though, she found herself wishing for as much as a rickety old bridge. All that lay before her at the end of the path she was headed down was a massively wide chasm; the remnants of what must have been a stone bridge were the only signs that this great pit was even meant to be crossed. Constanze measured the distance, her calculating mind going to work, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Eighty meters? Seventy eight? Hard to tell, but it doesn’t matter. Too far to cross either way.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s no way her grappling hook would get her around, and looking at the surrounding wall, there was no clear section where the walls met; it was a vast canyon beneath the earth. Constanze gave one final look over the edge before a cold wind blew over her shoulder. She spun about, caster-blaster ready and finger on the trigger; something had run past her, or breathed on her, but she saw nothing behind her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“A current? No holes; shouldn’t be. Something’s there. Has to be. But what. Flying? Check around.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her mind went step by step through the possibilities and she scanned the open air for an airborne threat. She spotted something, fired, but missed; the light of the blast made it clear though, it was just a cave bat that was now very stressed and fleeing as quickly as it could. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze sighed, lowering her guard as she rubbed her temples; the stress was palpable, and it was getting to her. She tried to think of things that brought her peace, concentrating on the silence of the caves. She thought of her projects, the fruits of her creativity, her passion. When all of this was over, she was going to lock herself away for a whole month and work all the while. Her fantasy was interrupted though by the intruding thought </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Just when would this all be over?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thought disturbed her more than the pressing danger of a missing polycule, of an academy under siege, of a family and town left as ash by forces wicked and unknown; was the world forever changed now? Would there ever be a peace that Constanze could know? She’d have to shut herself away, forget, “forgive,” ignore the plights of her friends and loved ones. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Could I do that?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> It wasn’t a question of possibility, but a question of if she could live with herself should she make that choice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze’s weapon was left hanging from the shoulder sling, her hands having gone limp as they came to hold her face. She needed to pull herself together. That wind came again though, colder, and faster this time! Constanze nearly jumped out of her skin, fell onto her side, and fumbled to aim her weapon up at what she expected to be a specter or ghoul that was stalking her. Again, nothing but frigid air and darkness. Constanze readjusted her goggles, swore profusely in German, and struggled back to her feet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something was holding her down though, something loose at first like a snag in her clothing, and then it pulled fiercely on her entire body! The chains shingled and jingled, the rattling brought harrowing life to the soundscape of the cavern. Constanze turned her head hard, scratching and clasping wildly at her upper-back where the chains were embedded. She tried desperately to get free, but where she formerly only felt one chain, now she felt five, six, eight! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze was outmatched in strength and her body was sliding further and further off of the ledge. The very ground began to crack, and with a final whispered lament, Constanze fell away into the darkness below where the chains dwelled. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>All around Constanze was moaning, groaning, weeping; this was the depths of humanitys’ sorrow. She awoke in a cold sweat, chains unnaturally jutting out from her body like they were surgically stitched into the skin, part of the bone. She was in a sort of pit full of writhing bodies, many ghostly and spectral; long dead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They all howled and screamed in throes of inner torment. Constanze could feel it too, a deep dullness in her heart; a wound beyond mending. She felt it open the morning she learned of her lost family, but now it felt like a cold iron had stabbed into that fresh gash and split it wide open. She cried tears she had thought impossible, and barely suppressed the urges to bellow and wallow as all the other entombed did. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Who are they? How did they get here? Why am I here? They're too close. Get away. Get away. Get away!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Every part of Constanze’s being felt violated; her body was among a small sea of limbs of the nude and gaunt forms that the weepers had made. She felt all too close to these people, and that dull wound of grief ached harder than ever. She was hyperventilating moments after regaining consciousness and beset by an anxiety so intense she felt she’d slip into a permanent coma. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From the chains stuck to her being, Constanze began to feel more dull stabbings then; it was like grief essence was being injected into her being, siphoned from the other sufferers. Constanze suddenly saw visions, knew feelings, places, people, events that she had no knowledge of prior; could not have had knowledge of if it weren’t for those chains! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was sympathy, the feelings of pity and sadness for another’s pain, even when one could not claim to have known that pain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was empathy, the shared understanding of knowing a familiar pain, but even then, the specifics of the experiences separated the two persons. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This was hell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze lived a thousand instances in flashes; years worth of grief and struggle became deeply rooted in her memory. Deaths of loved ones, failed suicide attempts, long stretches of depression and nothingness, where even the act of feeding one self was beyond consideration. Existence felt heavy, so very </span>
  <em>
    <span>heavy</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze finally felt her will breaking, and she howled and moaned with the mass despite her protest. And as she let go, if only for the briefest of moments, the crowds of sufferers too suffered with her; they suffered her memories as she suffered theirs, joined in despair. Their voices joined in sonorous unison, dirging like funeral cicadas. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It overwhelmed her senses, and Constanze could suffer no further. She began to </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> once more, first in her legs, and then in her arms. The struggle began in earnest; first she raised her left arm, then her right. The chains tugged and pulled from every which direction, but Constanze somehow was pulling on them ever harder. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Gun. Where is my gun? Get it. Shoot the chains. Break the chains. Get away. Get away!”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hands fumbled in the dark over the half-corpses, but eventually Constanze felt a metal that was not from the chains; her caster-blaster was taken by the handle and she began to drag it painstakingly toward her. One of the other sufferers interjected though, his face half gone, showing a fragmented and incomplete skull. Constanze knew his fate, knew his sorrow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He spoke. “Stay.” It was a lolled and gasped request, but his tone was earnest as could be. “Stay and know peace.” Constanze could see no peace in this. This was not ‘coming to terms,’ this was not absolution, this was not the fate she’d settle for! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She pulled harder and harder, eventually getting the blaster free and settling it on her chest. She strapped in her firing hand and aimed away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bang! Bang! Bang!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One by one, the chains linked to her broke. They snapped like taught tight ropes, sending links flying through the air. Her eardrums blistered from the intense noise from the gunfire and the growing shrieks from the sufferers; she closed her eyes, fired wildly, and hoped only to be free of this nightmare. She nearly emptied the magical reserves in her weapon before she was finished, and by the end, Constanze felt herself not among flesh, but on stone. The ringing faded, no signs of the chains remained, no wounds marked her body; it truly was a nightmare made manifest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So then where was she? Constanze tried to stand once, twice, and only on the third try was she actually able to support herself on those weak knees. She scanned her surroundings carefully; it was an abyssal island, no walls were found, only a large stretch of unsmoothed stone and earth. On that stretch, the only disturbance of the natural landscape came in the form of a stairway leading up to a small crag. On the crag was an anvil and a simple rectangle jutting out, it’s back at the edge and facing the abyss. It was all Constanze had to go off of; time to investigate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In her anxiety addled state, she could only run haggardly, her vision darting all around, terrified that the chains might return and drag her back. She couldn’t go back, her soul couldn’t survive that. With a trip, she fell at the base of the stairs and forced herself to crawl up. It was the only thing here besides the empty nothingness; there had to be something here, it had to save her, it just had to. Constanze wouldn’t accept a reality that had her well and truly doomed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the top, she came to find the anvil was indeed just that, though an intriguing hammer was laid atop it; thinly shaped and white like ivory, sparkling. Behind it, at the precipice of the crag, the tombstone like protrusion read in simple terms: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Here writhes Vaal; her ambitions, her joys, her sorrows, her entirety. The fire has faded, but the chains hold.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was that statement again: </span>
  <em>
    <span>The chains hold.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It chilled Constanze to the bone. Constanze came to her feet, her breath visible as though winter had come to these depths. “This can’t be it.” She hyperventilated. “This. Isn’t. All.” She wiped an arm over the anvil, having the strange white hammer fall to the ground; nothing special. She checked below, beneath, around it, and then the tombstone; nothing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Distant rattling; they were coming back. “No, no!” Constanze felt her heart preparing to burst; a quick death like that would be preferable to life amidst the sufferers, if death was even an escape. “No!” She shouted, this time to her rampantly running thoughts. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Not here. Not now.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She wasn’t going to give up, she couldn’t. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rattling grew louder, Constanze reached for the hammer, examined it close, and marveled. It was pure mithril; a powerful and exceedingly rare mineral. All parts tough, all parts magic; tougher than diamonds, than the thickest of man-made synthetics. Nothing could compare. In the mind she spent awed by the realization though, she heard an approaching jingle. A chain had shot out from the darkness and come for her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze dove to the floor and the iron attack became stuck in the crag, part of its length held over the anvil. Shooting them broke the chains, but Constanze had a feeling that wasn’t enough; she had to try something. With the hammer in hand, Constanze lurched for the anvil, diving behind it for cover as more chains shot overhead, narrowly missing her by inches. In the one fleeting moment she had to act, Constanze clambered to her feet, raised the hammer high, and struck down on one of the chains. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lightning flashed, illuminating the terrifying majesty of the rock formations deep beyond the void, and sending Constanzes’ hairs to stand on end. Blinding light consumed her, and she found her vision returning not to the sight of the island in the darkness, but a chamber in the Upper Catacombs; the stonework matched, near finished candles burned. She was safe, she hoped. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze shivered as the electric energy coursed through her body, passing her hair, exiting through her feet and hands, as she lay slump over the anvil. The hammer was still in her hand; the only sign that anything she’d just experienced was </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> though to her mind, it was all </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> real.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Again, Constanze surveyed her surroundings, slowly this time, dazed by the blast. It was a tiny chamber, meant for no more than five people. A few scant shelves held less than noteworthy books, and a simple table was set up with surprisingly burning candles. Finally, behind her, the tombstone was replaced by a similarly shaped edifice but one that bore a much less sonorous message: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dedicated to Vaal, Sixth of Nine. Both the gentlest and fiercest of the Olde witches. First of the witch-smiths, armorer of heroes, founder of the Order, and dearest sister. May this simple marker sing your praises in volumes; you were never one for the grand, but I have never known one greater than ye. Your chains still hold. My flame still burns. I love you.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The message was unsigned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After Constanze digested the message, she couldn’t help but feel this was all too convenient. After she’d been drawn to examine the shrine to Vaal up in the sanctum, ending up just seemed too coincidental. She thought of the track she’d been following that led her to that deep black abyss; the footprints. Constanze cursed herself, for she realized she would have known exactly who they belonged to had she measured and more carefully examined the tracks. She’d been tricked, led astray; she was sure of it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whatever made her experience that torment was going to have a lot to answer to. Constanze started to shuffle away, having resecured her weapon and goggles back to their places and stowed the hammer snuggly with her belt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But as she made for the door, a haunting and haggard voice, a coughing sort of hissing, spoke from behind her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“And where are you taking that?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze spun about, but the voice was behind her yet again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Now, now, don’t go swinging that fancy contraption of yours around! You’ll hurt someone….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The voice was well and truly ancient; even the most wizened of hags would find it galling to listen to. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Calm yourself child! You’re only being haunted! Hah!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>It laughed, sputtered, and then coughed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze struggled to speak, but began to open her mouth regardless, only for the specter to interject. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Fret not child! I can hear you well as is! I too loathe the labors of actually communicating with others; truly it is a terrible thing to be forced to converse with strangers!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why are you making me do that right now then? Take your own advice.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze thought angrily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The voice replied measuredly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Tis not any fault of mine you came down here. You’re the one holding my most prized tool, aren’t you?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No choice. The chains. They</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ahhh, I see. Got caught up in them did you?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The voice cackled. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Someone’s got unfinished business then!”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What does that mean?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her internal voice was venomous, and Constanze never dropped her guard in the material world either. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Those people. You did that to them.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I did nothing! Those persons did that to themselves. They’re happier now though; better off.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Bulschit.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Mind the language young lady!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Do you want answers?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The voice metaphorically raised a knowing brow; its terms were clear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fine.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Good! Then listen! I hate speaking to strangers just as much as you do, maybe more, so I shan’t repeat myself!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>It cleared its proverbial throat, but to Constanze it just sounded like a broken muffler being gutted by a berserking cat on a stick; that wasn’t an image she’d forget for a while. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ahem! Mhm…. Ahoo…. Hmm</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Get on with it.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze urged. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The nerve of today’s youth! Harumph!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A brief silence followed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Those people, they’re dead. Long dead in most cases, and they’re not the only ones. They’re people who’ve lacked chains all their life. When they finally gave up, they came here, and I gave them chains. Now they’re better for it. It really is simple, child.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> That explained just about nothing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I hate this.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hmm? Oh yes, I do too….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The voice wasn’t actually certain of what was being referred to, but went along with it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ugh. What are the chains?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze sighed mentally and literally. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“That which binds.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A pause came as the sound of papers in the wind started up behind Constanze. She turned slowly to see one of the books from the shelves levitating, its pages flipping madly. One eventually was torn out and slapped Constanze in the face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Here! Take this! It’ll help you understand.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The page was written fully in Lunar text; an older form though, one Constanze had difficulty translating. It was something of an ode. A poem? An epitaph? A philosophical notion? Something like that:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Bound we are, to brotherhood of flesh. It is a cold harness, the irons of our bodies beset. Some fall while others crawl, never to remember why we march at all. Through screaming, through sorrow, the dead we still drag along. With regret reason is found. At one with the chains. At one with the pain. Bear your burden well. Let they who have no chains weep, for theirs is the unmourned fate.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze fumed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Why can’t you be clear.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She pocketed it anyway, if only to not be yelled at for discarding it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I think I’m quite crystal actually!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The voice cackled again, though it slowed to a grim halt, and the once whimsical tone of a silly old woman was replaced with the dire warnings of a being from beyond the grave. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“And if ye still deny the truths laid bare on that parchment, I will certainly see you again. The chains still hold.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rattling. So much rattling! Constanze blinked and chains were entrapping her; the sufferers, they’d returned as shades with mouths and jaws stretched to the point of looking surreal. Their screams and eyeless sockets instilled a primal fear in Constanze, forcing her to shut her eyes tight. The noise faded all at once, but the voice remained grim. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“They’ll always hold. You’ve chains on you now, as all should. Don’t sever them. A warning from me to you.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze slowly regained control over her body as fear was replaced with resolute anger; she’d had enough of this! </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Go away!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her mind’s voice was a fierce threat through grit teeth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“.... Alright! Since you asked.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The voice retreated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>“Wait, what!?”</span> <span>Constanze shouted out loud. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ohhh, I see. Old Vaal leaves you alone finally and now you want to talk!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re just going!? After that!?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze felt her gun tremble in her arms, she felt she’d been scarred mentally by this whole ordeal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well. Yes. You asked me to!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And that’s all it takes?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze leered at the shrine dedicated to Vaal, as if speaking to that was somehow more appropriate. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Why did you hurt me like that?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hurt you? Why I…. Oh I won’t toy with you much more, child.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Vaal sighed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I was earnest when I said it was a warning. I know the fate of the unmourned personally.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Then what about that tombstone?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Which one? The first?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Vaal queried. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Both.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze had to know. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The first was the truth of my death. I went to a deep, deep place. A dark hole where I could be alone. Where I could grieve in peace. I was a sufferer. Part of me is a sufferer, rather.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Genuine regret marked her echoing words. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“So how are you here?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ohh, my sister went and remembered me. I’d gone to very great lengths and effort to wipe my memory from all of their heads! Not that it would have ever worked on Woodward, that tricksy shrub.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Vaal grumbled something incomprehensible, something in an eldritch tongue</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze looked about slowly, considering each word carefully. “That tricksy shrub.” Constanze glared. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What do you know about the weird plant thing down here?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Which one?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You can read my thoughts. Don’t be coy.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tis not my place to say!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze could imagine Vaal upturning her nose. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Now please, run along! I actually grow quite tired of this chatter!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze grumbled long and lowly, it was like a growl. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Didn’t you try to stop me because of your tool?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She patted the hammer on her hip. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hmm? Oh, you’ll need that.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze began to think, but then it hit her; mithril, the wunder element! It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> what she was looking for! Constanze examined it with a sudden smile, one only an inventor or researcher such as herself could have; the smile of triumphant discoveries! </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Told you!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Vaal annoyed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Didn’t you want to be quiet?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze was very much tired of this now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ah! Yes! I did. Goodbye then! Pray we do not meet again!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Nothing physically changed, or mentally even; the voice was simply gone. Finally, silence was returned, and Constanze could refocus herself. If nothing, this journey wouldn’t be for naught; if mithril could not pierce the barrier, then there was never any hope of escaping the dome to begin with. It would have to do, Constanze could ask for nothing greater.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She started for the door, turned a corner, and tightened up her posture; now came the treacherous and dizzying search for the way out. For better or worse, after a short jaunt down the halls to a four way intersection, that search came to an end. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze felt a slithering on her feet. She instinctively shot at the floor, blasting away one of the alien vines, but before she could bring the gun to bear on the flower itself, Constanze got a face full of crimson spoors. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She staggered back, her weapon blowing holes in the ceiling, loosing stones. Constanze did not resist it much once she was certain she’d inhaled enough to fall under their effects; it was a better fate than facing those chains again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Merciful sleep took her away, just as it had to the others, to a safer place. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/>
<hr/>
<hr/><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Dawn of Sorrows</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey everyone, Just a reminder!</p><p>Due to the higher traffic the sites getting, AO3 is NOT recording the "hits" from readers that aren't logged in. IE, guests. If you don't have an account but are enjoying the fic and want to show me your enjoying it, leave me a Kudos so I know your here! Or you could make an account, and then your hits will be counted! I know you likely saw this at the start of last chapter, but I wanted to add it in just for thoroughness. </p><p>Back to work now and yeah it's stressful, but I'll always do my damnedest to get these chapters to you! Writing this story gives me life! </p><p>You know the drill with my tumblr: Here's the link! https://karmotrinedreams91.tumblr.com/</p><p>Hope you enjoy this chapter! More to come, as always!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The warming smell of baked foods; homely aromas. It was like being introduced to smelling salts for the first time. Constanze and Amanda’s noses were delighted to smell it, but after having been gassed, twice in Amanda’s case, and spent longer than either liked in a musty and decrepit maze, it was quite an assault. Smell was the first of their senses to return, followed by a dull aching pain behind their eyes, in their forehead. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze opened her eyes and grumbled a litany of slurred German curses; even she didn’t know what she was saying. Amanda did the same, minus the German, but rose up to a half-seated stance on the infirmary bed. </p><p> </p><p>“That’s twice in two days O’Neill! You go and get knocked on your ass twice in two days; haven’t I told you to be more careful enough?” Nelson’s Minnesota-Countryside accent was unmistakable, but Amanda couldn’t see her fully. Her vision was hazy, fog like, and gunk had built up under her eyes. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze slurred more swears as she instinctively pulled her bed coverings over her own head at the sound of such sudden voices. “Too early….” She sighed in English; her brain presuming it was morning and all was normal. </p><p> </p><p>“Holy hell Nelson, give a lady a minute to get up before you lecture her!” Amanda groggily retorted. She wiped her eyes with balled fists, peering through the space between her fingers as she came to. </p><p> </p><p>“Professor, they need to rest more! And they know doubt have a terrible headache. Mind your volume!” Jasminka corrected with a motherly wagging of her left pointer finger and stern commanding voice, kept at an indoor volume of course. The baked pastries were her doing of course, and were being wheeled in on a food cart. </p><p> </p><p>Nelson chuckled at Jasminka, shaking her head. “Maybe if she got yelled awake more often she wouldn’t have missed as many classes. Lemme guess, O’Neill, you never get up before… thirteen hundred?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nelson, you’re a warm blooded American like me and you’re still gonna use this thirteen hundered B.S.?” Amanda flopped back onto the bed, choosing to ignore the circumstances that could have gotten her here for now. There was a certain serenity to be found in the willfully ignorant banter. </p><p> </p><p>“And I bet you’re still trying to measure distance in miles, O’Neill. Despite, oh, I dunno, the rest of the whole world using metric?” Nelson leaned back in her chair, arms cross. </p><p> </p><p>“Damn straight.” Amanda suddenly held her stomach and muttered, “Bucket.” with a sense of urgency.</p><p> </p><p>Nelson sighed, levitating one up from beside her bed. Amanda took it with desperate hands and relieved her body of whatever toxins she had absorbed.</p><p> </p><p>Jasminka came up in between Constanze and Amanda’s bed, food cart filled with predominantly bread based delights, and offered the heaving flamingo-haired witch a consoling rub on the back and shoulders. “You got up just in time. I was worried I’d made these too early.” </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t… eugh….” Amanda set the bucket aside, wiping her face with a bedside towel. “Think I have the stomach for much right now….” The growling of her midsection objected. Jasminka stared knowingly and Amanda relented. “...Alright.” Buttered and baked bread and pastries were handed over in three plates; Amanda began scarfing it all up without even a moment's hesitation. </p><p> </p><p>“Constanze?” Jasminka turned slowly, earning only an annoyed grunt from the vaguely cocoon shaped huddle of blankets that was Constanze. “You should eat too. I made these special for you both; it’s the least I can do.” Her usual implaccable cheeriness was marked by a surprisingly sour note. She felt like saying it’s the <em> most </em> she could do, but she thought better of it. </p><p> </p><p>The Conz-Coccoon mumbled something. “Mrmhmm…. Nein…. Mmm.” It was hard to gauge if she was actually awake or not. Jasminka suppressed a giggle and set aside a long and well seasoned bread stick beside the cocoon, and it was sucked into the mass by a terrifyingly fast hand from within. </p><p> </p><p>“лгун!” Jasminka teased, jabbing the blanket huddle with a poke. Constanze replied through bread-filled chewing something else in Russian that Jasminka would not repeat. “Constanze Amalie Von Braunschbanks-Albrechtsberger!” She really was Green Team’s mom. </p><p> </p><p>“Sorry….” Constanze spoke above the muffling of her voice before poking her head out, bed-headed and glassy eyed, with half of a bread stick in hand. “Where are we?” </p><p> </p><p>“Infirmary. All safe and sound in Luna Nova. As safe as can with the bubble still up.” Nelson rolled her neck slowly to get all of the kinks out in her shoulders. “The Antiquarians found you two on their way out of the Sanctum, just like this. Knocked out and all.” </p><p> </p><p>“The Antiquarians found us on <em> their way back? </em>” Amanda blinked a few times, that didn’t make sense. </p><p> </p><p>“Mhm. They went in after you two dumbasses and found Hannah and Barbara being chased by big flaming lizards.” Nelson leaned in. “And then after getting back to the surface safely, you two were found laid out right in the archives. Go figure.” </p><p> </p><p>“They’re safe right? Right? Oh god I have to go—” Amanda sat up fast, but fell back faster. A seatbelt was strapping her in like an astronaut pre-ignition; Nelson’s magic was the culprit. </p><p> </p><p>“Abso-freakin-lutely not cadet.” Nelson’s agitating pet name for Amanda. “You’re staying right here for a while at least. I’m gonna chew you out, make sure you’re not sporting anything broken or worse, and then chew you out some more just to make sure I get through that thick skull of yours.” Nelson tapped at her own head, exaggerating the insult. </p><p> </p><p>“Ach!” Amanda yelped before immediately fighting the restraints to no avail. She checked her belt and found herself wandless as well. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze, meanwhile, tried to get up as well, but found Jasminka was halting her instead with a worried hand gripping her own. “Careful now Constanze; you’re still sick, I can tell. And we were supposed to get an idea of what happened down there from you. I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, so I brought a notepad for you.” Jasminka urged with all due care. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze sighed, shuffled back into bed, propped up her pillows, and sat up with a signature scowl. She accepted the pen and pad when offered, and quickly wrote: “I want to go to my lab. I have work to do.” Constanze showed it off as needed with a simple flip-over motion. </p><p> </p><p>By that time, Amanda had given up on fighting and splaid herself out flat on the bed. “I really hate you sometimes; bloody warhawk.” Her own pet-insult meant for Nelson. “Can you at least tell me how they are?”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine. Minor burns, but they were alright after a quick patch up. You can breathe easy, alright?” Nelson dropped her anger, at least for now, knowing the state of the noble-duo was a sincere point of stress for Amanda. “In and out now, yeah? Deep and easy.” She encouraged. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda reluctantly followed along in the exercise, and either by placebo or actual worth, Amanda felt her heart steady. “Ok…. So you got questions for us. Let's get ‘em over with.” </p><p> </p><p>“You wanna take it from here, Antonenko?” Nelson fixed her hat such that it was off-set, forward on her head, and covering her eyes. She felt no better rest wise compared to anyone else, and if she could shut her eyes for just a minute, she would. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmm!” Jasminka nodded happily. “I suppose it's best to start with this:” Jasminka fingered her chin before clearing her throat. “Do you two remember what actually happened?”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze wrote away. “I remember things, but if you’re trying to imply something else happened, and this is all a dream, please let it be a dream.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda cracked her jaw, fingers, back, everything. “Yeaaaah…. Gotta agree with Conz on that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, we don’t really know…. Ibrahim last saw you chasing after Hannah and Barbara down that deep hole, and then Constanze, you went after her.” Jasminka nodded. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze groaned. “Not a dream.” She wrote. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, we didn’t end up together, that’s for sure. So who do you wanna hear first.” Amanda stretched her hands to palm the back of her head. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm….” Jasminka considered them both. “Constanze? Would you mind writing your thoughts out while I talk to Amanda?” She moved while speaking to pull up a stool. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze nodded and went to work, hesitantly at first, but then furiously afterward. She just wanted to transcribe the necessary details and be done with those memories for good. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda, sighing, tugged at her harness once. “So uh, Nelson, you gonna let me sit up or am I not big enough to ride without a booster seat yet?” </p><p> </p><p>“Heh!” Nelson didn’t bother to look or open her eyes as she lazily raised and waved her wand. The belts disappeared, slithering beneath the bed and out of sight. </p><p> </p><p>“Right.” Amanda sat up, glad to be giving her bed-sored-back a break. “Uhhh, actually, first off, what time is it.” The lack of windows wasn’t helpful for either of the witches when it came to reorienting themselves. </p><p> </p><p>“Fourteen forty.” Nelson peaked her watch. </p><p> </p><p>“So… two forty?” Amanda side eyed her elder friend.</p><p> </p><p>“Fourteen forty.” Constanze corrected.</p><p> </p><p>“I hate you both.” Amanda lowered her head and wiped her eyes. Jasminka chuckled, but Amanda interrupted. “Alright, you wanted details, you’ll get details. So yeah I went to go save Hannah and Barbara… and… I failed.” Amanda let her hand fall to her lap, her stubbornness waning, replaced by despondency. “I got blown away by some wind from outta nowhere before I could reach them, and was face to face with some big weird flower. I think I broke a few ribs landing but—”</p><p> </p><p>“You broke WHAT!?” Nelson’s chair nearly fell over as she had been getting too comfortable for her own good. Her feet were kicked up, but when the words hit her ears of Amanda’s prior injury, she was scrambling for balance.  </p><p> </p><p>“N-Nothing's broken, Nelson! Sheesh! I mean, they <em> were </em>, probably, but when I woke up next, everything was fine.” Amanda clarified while Nelson settled herself back down, holding a hand over her heart and mouthing a prayer. </p><p> </p><p>Jasminka put a comforting hand onto Amanda’s arm, channeling subtle but not hidden magics to sooth Amanda’s senses. It made her feel warm and fuzzy. “It’s ok Amanda. But you said you woke up? Did you mean when you woke up now or…?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, no. I woke up deeper in that stupid maze, sick, like I was a second ago, but alright…. Can I have another pastry.” Amanda felt comfort food was warranted and she was happily obliged by Jasminka. Through small chews, Amanda told her tale: “I got up and books and shit were lying everywhere. It was dark as all hell and I was kinda still in a fit. I tried walking but stumbled a lot. I heard Hannah and Barbara calling out though, so I started running. I kept following and following ‘em and….”</p><p> </p><p>“And?” Jasminka squeezed Amanda’s arm. “Take your time if you need to.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, it’s alright. I know now that those voices weren’t theirs. Something was mimicking them. I dunno what but I was gettin’ run around. Anyways, they led me to this room. It was some hall dedicated to one of the Nine Olde Witches. Juri… no, Jenny? No, Jehanne. Yeah, some French witch.”</p><p> </p><p>Nelson, having re-sorted herself, sat forward. “No kidding O’Neill? <em> The </em> Jehanne Du Aquitaine?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, she—Wait you know her full name? I didn’t say that.” Amanda leered. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m pretty sure I mentioned at least five times, in and out of class, that she was the one who first started the broom riding tradition…. Did you ever listen? Even in <em> my </em> classes?” Nelson cocked her head in disbelief. </p><p> </p><p>“Look, I’m sure if you asked me like a week or two after you mentioned it, yeah, I’d remember! It’s been a few years ok!” Amanda raised her arms up in self defence. “Now come on, stop interrupting, I wanna get through this.” </p><p> </p><p>All eyes fell to Constanze though when she ripped a piece of paper off and showed its contents. “Keep going. It’s funny to watch Amanda look dumb.” Nelson and Jasminka laughed. Even Constanze couldn’t fully suppress her grin.</p><p> </p><p>“Oi! Are we friends or not, Conz?” Amanda half laughed herself, but played up the faux anger.</p><p> </p><p>Nelson acquiesced. “Alright, no more interruptions now. Floor’s yours cadet.” </p><p> </p><p>“So, yeah.” Amanda took a moment, winking curiously as she found her place. Her eyes fully opened again when she found it. “I found that room, and had to help some dead guys fight a Throgg.” Nelson wanted to make a snide comment on how Amanda could identify an obscure creature like a Throgg but forget basic witch-history; not that anything else of Jehanne was well known besides her origination of broom-riding. </p><p> </p><p>“We killed the Throgg, then the last of the skeletons standing has me duel her—”</p><p> </p><p>“Her?” Jasminka queried before covering her mouth, remembering the ‘no interruptions’ rule.</p><p> </p><p>“Look, I could tell. She… told me? Kinda? I could tell alright.” Amanda cleared her throat, shifting forward in the bedding. “So I duel her, and damn I wish y’all could have seen that. Best time I’ve had in awhile…. I mean, minus all of the horrible shit that was on my mind, but that’s not important.”  Nelson and Constanze shared an eye roll at that. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda continued. “They let me go at that point, and I ended up searching around for Hannah and Barbara. Instead, I find some weird little hidden area with just a brazier and a fire in it. I picked up a half burnt torch because, well, you know. I’d rather have a torch over having to use my wand for light. When I lit it though, the fire just… it fuckin’ engulfed me! I thought I was as good as dead, but it didn’t burn.” Amanda looked away, appearing distant and nervous. “But then everything hurt. The fire must have… gone inside me? I don’t know. What I do know is some woman’s voice started yelling at me about ‘taking up the fire’ and ‘feeding it glory’ or some nonsense.” She shook her head, trying to push the sensory memory from her head. “Buncha bullshit.” She steadied her voice before finishing the tale. “Then I was… ok? I left, went to go look for Hannah and Barbara <em> again </em>, and got caught out by that stupid plant. Now I’m here.” She omitted the part where she heard a voice on her way down; it felt like a delusion. </p><p> </p><p>Nelson stood, wearing a very concerned expression. She came up beside Amanda and hugged her; Amanda did not fight it, she welcomed it. “Ohhh…. You really gotta think before you take off like that, Amanda. I’m glad you’re alright, and I know you’d do anything for those two, but come on, let’s think this through:” Amanda did not retort or interject, hindsight would prove twenty twenty. “You weren’t riding <em> your </em> broom, so already you were at a speed disadvantage. </p><p> </p><p>“My old broom’s broken anyway.” Amanda grumbled. </p><p> </p><p>“When did that happen?” Jasminka asked while minding the food cart.</p><p> </p><p>“Paris. Few months ago. Not a big deal, it was always a piece of shit anyway.” Amanda and Nelson then split apart from the hug but remained close. Amanda’s tone was dismissive and somber. </p><p> </p><p>Nelson picked back up where she left off. “Then you didn’t even know where it was taking them, or <em> what </em> that was…. You should have gone with Ibrahim to get a party together. I know you couldn’t have known they’d be alright, but you could have died down there!” </p><p> </p><p>Jasminka joined in. “Mama always said to keep a level head, even when everything’s falling apart around you. And if something happened, Hannah and Barbara would be heartbroken over it.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda, while nodding into Nelson’s shoulder, regretfully spoke. “Yeah. Yeah, I fucked up. Again.” A need to cry arose, but she shed no tears; she felt she had to be stronger than that. </p><p> </p><p>“Now, now, no need to get gloomy over it.” Jasminka urged, sensing the ‘again’ portion of Amanda’s statement was an undue stab at her own character. </p><p> </p><p>“No!” Amanda shook her head, pushing Nelson away gently. “I fucked up and I just need to accept that I did. I… I mess up a lot and I know you two, I mean, I know <em> everyone </em>thinks I don’t learn from anything,” She thought Hannah especially believed that, but she held that thought back, “and, well, sometimes I don’t.” She thought of the graduation pin she was meant to earn. This wasn’t how a savvy witch like herself was supposed to act; love complicated things, not that she could do away with it, or would, given the opportunity.  </p><p> </p><p>Nelson sighed. She looked down to Amanda with a mix of frustration and concern; Amanda was right. “First thing to do when fixin’ a problem is acknowledging it.” She had hoped this experience would serve to kickstart some real change in her best friend.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze chimed in with a grunt, drawing the groups’ eyes to her paper. “Would have done the same. If it were—” the name beside was scribbled out intensely to the point of being illegible. Constanze wrote beside that, “someone I loved.” She then tore another piece and showed it off. “I messed up too. Chased after you.” They were supposed to be a team though, so Constanze, while knowing it was a bad idea in hindsight, can’t feel she’d do it any differently. Even knowing what lurked below. </p><p> </p><p>“I guess….” Amanda puffed her cheeks with air before blowing it all away. “Just, let me deal with it. I messed up, you guys know it, and we’ll leave it there…. I’ll handle the rest myself.” </p><p> </p><p>Nelson put her hands to her hips. “You know you can talk to—”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, you don’t need to get weighed down by my burdens. Maybe for other stuff sure, I’d take your help, but, just—” Amanda threw up her palm and waved it off, holding her face with the other hand. “This problem’s mine. Let’s leave it at that.” </p><p> </p><p>Nelson backed off with a shake of the head and heavy frown. “You never change, Amanda.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda tensed, her fists clenching the sheets of the bed tight at that. The words echoed in so many voices: Sucy’s, Nelson’s own, her parents, aunts, uncles, strangers, Finnelans, and worst of all, Barbara’s. Amanda spoke nothing of it, but she felt like a dagger had been stuck in her gut. </p><p> </p><p>Jasminka frowned deeper, regarded Amanda for a few moments, and internally complained about her inability to help more before turning to Constanze. “Are you ready to tell your part then, Constanze?”</p><p> </p><p>Constanzes’ eyes lingered on Amanda, disappointed with her, but also knowing all too well the hesitancy that came with opening up to others. Constanze could also sense something change in her friend’s posture; something was off, but it wasn’t something Constanze could address now. She turned her gaze to Jasminka instead and nodded solemnly, holding up the small story for them all to read: </p><p> </p><p>“Went after Amanda. Scaled the hole, saw tracks, followed them. Thought they were Amanda’s or Hannah and Barbara’s. Not theirs. Tricked. Should have checked.” Her writing was as perfunctory as could be; she wanted to be up and out of this infirmary asap. “Followed them for a while. Twenty five minutes. Give or take two. Dead end. Deep, deep, abyss. Fell in. Something grabbed me.” She omitted mention of the chains directly, twisting the details. “Woke up, things were bad. Got myself safe, and found I was in a little room. An anvil and some books were in, along with a mithril hammer. Took it. A voice spoke to me; said she was Vaal. One of the Nine Olde Witches, first witch-smith.” </p><p> </p><p>By the time the rest had read up to that point, Nelson was left scratching her head. “Never heard of that one.” Jasminka was similarly clueless.</p><p> </p><p>“How many of the Nine witches do you actually know?” Amanda chided Nelson.</p><p> </p><p>“Tch! I knew <em> six </em> before now, thank you very much. With this Vaal one, that’s seven. Not like they’re exactly very well understood anyway, so zip it. Tryna’ read!” Nelson jabbed in a joking but well meaning way at Amanda, who glared briefly at her mentor; she wasn’t in a joking mood anymore, but Nelson didn’t catch on.</p><p> </p><p>The trio’s attention was redirected back to the paper at the poking finger of Constanze against the parchment, demanding they hurry this up. “We talked for a bit and she was annoying. She let me keep the hammer though. I left the room then and found that weird plant thing. Same thing happened to Amanda: I fell asleep, then woke up here.” Constanze realized she’d left a statement out then, and quickly scribbled more words on. “Where’s my stuff? I need that hammer. Could be the key to getting out of this dome.” </p><p> </p><p>Jasminka gasped, her right hand flat against her chest. “It could get us out!? How?” </p><p> </p><p>Nelson, widedly, shared the curious sentiment. “You serious, Albrechtsberger?” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda raised a brow but she didn’t have much of her focus on Constanze. She stared into the space behind and above her friend, her head pounding with a sudden stress. For the moment, much of the words being exchanged were a sort of white noise; she heard them, understood them even, but she wouldn’t consider them until later. She was stuck in a tizzy, all because of a few words said most assuredly without ill intent: <em> “You never change.” </em> </p><p> </p><p>Constanze took a moment to clarify, using her voice this time. “Mithril is magic. If pure magic could be solid, mithril is as close as we get to it. The barrier distorts magic; messes up spells…. Magical objects though, they pass through it, but differently than mundane things. Strangely. There’s… there’s resistance. If it’s strong enough magically, it won’t pass through. I’m making a drill out of that hammer, and I’m gonna cut right through it.” Or try to at least; she still had no guarantees it would work. </p><p> </p><p>“Well I’ll be damned!” Nelson’s frown turned upside in an instant; a hope filled smile was formed. “You’ve got work to do then young lady! If you have the strength, then let’s get right to it!” She clapped her hands together, ready to get down to business. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze groaned. “Not feeling the best.” She resorted back to writing her words out then, making proper sentences this time over the shortened versions she used before in her recount. “I’ll work with Jasminka. She knows how I operate. No offense to you Professor, but unless you have a good eye for machinery like this, I don’t know if you’d be much of a help.” </p><p> </p><p>Nelson slumped slightly, the wind taken out from her sails. “Ahhh, I get it. Sorry about imposin’. I’ve been feeling a little helpless lately. I think a lotta people are.” She fixed her posture and took on a more neutral expression. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll find a way to stay busy and useful. What’s most important is that you have all the things you need for this plan of yours.” </p><p> </p><p>Jasminka clapped quietly, with just the tip of her fingers. “I’d be glad to help Constanze! I’ve spent too much time in the kitchen as is!” It was a bit surprising to hear that from Jasminka of all people, but while she’s felt she’s been an asset for keeping morale high with meals, she wanted to do more, or rather, something else. “It’ll be just like when we made that parade float! You handle the technical assembly, I’ll support the heavy stuff and keep things in place!”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze smiled; for as much of a recluse as she was, she always loved good help down in the lab. “Mhmm!” An eager grunt confirmed her agreement. </p><p> </p><p>“Settled then!” Nelson began. “You two get your rears’ in gear and get fixin’ this mess!” She thumbed back to the exit behind her as Constanze slid off the bed with Jasminka’s aid. “And Amanda!”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda side eyed Nelson, having stared at her lap for the past minute or so now. “What?” Amanda was hardly ever mad like this, and everyone knew that something was up now.</p><p> </p><p>“Whoa there; you alright?” Nelson leaned in, checking to see if Amanda felt sick again. “Bucket?” She offered it with levitation. </p><p> </p><p>Jasminka and Constanze turned their heads to see Amanda shove it away through the air with some aggression. Nelson shrugged and looked to the other two then. “You two go on, I’ll see what’s wrong.” </p><p> </p><p>“Nothing’s wrong. Just go and do whatever you want.” Amanda insisted sharply.</p><p> </p><p>Nelson breathed out through her nose, regarded Amanda once, and then looked back at the duo behind her. She vocalized nothing, but her stare said enough: <em> “Go on. I’ve got this.” </em> A thumbs up accentuated that point. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze felt that sting again, a shared sadness. She’d been acting like that earlier in the week: Shoving everyone away, fixated on just one or two thoughts, spiraling. It wasn’t with the same all encompassing dread and sorrow of course; Amanda would be throwing a party if her family died, and there’d be cake if it was a painful death. Whatever was gripping Amanda though was serious, and while Amanda and Constanze never shared the greatest of intimacies, Amanda had stuck her neck out at least twenty times now to cover for Constanzes’ mishaps. The one that stuck in her mind most of course was the incident with Finnelan’s office.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze considered that event in the wider context of the present; had Amanda not taken the blame, Constanze would have been expelled, most assuredly. And if that happened, who knows what sort of hellish family situation she’d be forced into. Constanze’s folks may have been working on bettering themselves, but an expulsion is an expulsion; there’s no happiness or silver lining to be found in that. Worse, even if Constanze survived living with her family for a few years, eventually, that same band of monsters and fiends would have descended on Ludinghal. Constanze would be dead, her family erased from the face of the Earth.</p><p> </p><p>It was perhaps crazy to think of such a possibility at the time of Amanda’s expulsion, no one could have known of the butterfly effect in action, but in hindsight, Constanze had to reason Amanda had <em> technically </em> saved her life once already. And she was already a good friend: She’d promised to follow Constanze into hell and back on a quest for revenge. Constanze wouldn’t let that kindness go unpaid. “Amanda.” She weakly intoned. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda, surprised to be addressed directly by Constanze about this, turned her head; her glare softened ever so slightly. “What?”  </p><p> </p><p>“We should… talk sometime. Tomorrow morning? Once we’re out?” Constanze had to imply their freedom was assured, for morale's sake. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda’s mind immediately jumped to a snide comment, an excuse, a deflection, or some other way of getting Constanze to back off. Instead, her lips and heart spoke first. “I’d appreciate that.” The two forces of thought in Amanda reconciled then, <em> “Well if we’re going to fight together, no point letting myself get bogged down. Would just slow her down. Hell she’s got dead parents and she ain’t even thinking of stopping.” </em> her right hand was brought to grace over her messy hair. <em> “Shouldn’t have to do this. I should be stronger than this.” </em>That urge to cry came and left immediately once more. “Let me get some rest though. I’ll be up in an hour.” She thought Nelson might only take a few minutes to deal with, but more importantly, Amanda wanted a drink and some quiet time. </p><p> </p><p> Jasminka nodded once, squeezing Constanze. “We’re always going to be there for you! Wherever we are in the world! Don’t hesitate to call or come to us, ok?” It was a sentiment Jasminka always imparted on Amanda when she’d end her normal visits. Now though, it felt a lot less rehearsed to Amanda; not that Jasminka was <em> ever </em> disingenuous with how much she loved everyone. Amanda nodded, unable to shake that glare, and in her desire to not seem ungrateful, she looked away, hiding the mostly internal malice from her friends. </p><p> </p><p>It was a mixed signal that had Jasminka frowning again, but with Constanze’s grunt, “Mhmm. Mm.” And a gesture to get going, Jasminka could tell Amanda would be alright, and that she appreciated the gesture. </p><p> </p><p>“Feel better Amanda.” Jasminka spoke softly as the duo made to leave, both having their eyes linger on their ex roommate for just a few moments more before disappearing out of the doorway. </p><p> </p><p>This, for better or worse, left Amanda and Nelson alone. </p><p> </p><p>Nelson quickly inhaled and exhaled before sitting sideways on the end of the bed, removing her witches hat and aviator cap. Beneath, Nelson’s hair was just starting to grow grey at the scalp; this crisis must have taken a decade off of her life from the sheer weight of stress. The rest of her hair was a naturally dirty blonde, and not very well kept due to the hat-hair. It was kept mostly flat regardless by way of her long and heavy-braided ponytail. “Amanda, come on. Let’s try and take a second here.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda, still turned away into an empty section of the room, did not respond at first. When she felt a reassuring hand jostle her leg once, she pulled it away and spoke. “I’m trying to take that second alone, thanks.” </p><p> </p><p>“You’ve been pretty open with me in the past, Amanda. What gives now?” Nelson shifted a bit closer. “If it’s the stress of all this stuff happening at once getting to you, well, I mean, I can’t blame you. But just say it if that’s what’s—”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up.” Amanda sighed the words, her head dropping to one side as she held the side of her face visible to Nelson. “Just leave me alone.” Amanda could swear she started to hear those wretched voices come back. They haunted her often, almost constantly sometimes, but it was usually only a murmur here or there, a reminder that could be shrugged off. Ever since Sucy checked her reality with a volley of verbal carronade though, Amanda had been shaken to her core; the voices taunted her at every turn where she showed even a hint of incompetence or weakness. “I have a headache already. I don’t need it to get worse.”</p><p>Nelson scoffed at being pushed aside; they’d been the best of friends in the past, and where Nelson couldn’t fathom why Amanda was being so mean, Amanda couldn’t either. “Honestly Amanda, do you think isolating yourself is going to fix anything?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, no it fuckin’ won’t Nelson! Actually, yeah, it will. It’ll solve my fuckin’ headache and honestly, that’s all I want right now!” Amanda was <em> vicious </em> when she snapped at someone. Her eyes held a misdirected contempt that made it seem like the two witches were the worst of enemies; all of that hate was for herself in truth. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you hear yourself? What did I do to you that suddenly all of this is now my fault?” It wasn’t stated directly of course, but the way Amanda was biting with her words made Nelson feel like she was being blamed. </p><p> </p><p>“Nothing! Just—”</p><p> </p><p>“If it’s nothing then why are you pushing—</p><p> </p><p>Their words all layered over one another; neither was giving the other the space to talk.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m pushing because I don’t need—</p><p> </p><p>“Clearly you need something! Otherwise you wouldn’t—</p><p> </p><p>“Wouldn’t WHAT!?” Amanda ceased their back and forth with a shout.</p><p> </p><p>“Or you wouldn’t be hurting yourself so damn often!” Nelsons’ words sledgehammered Amanda’s mouth shut. Amanda’s stare turned from venomous to wounded, and Nelson continued, dropping much of her own anger in favor of concern. “Do you think I’m blind kid? I see you do stuff like this all the time. You screw up, you kick yourself while you’re down, and nothing changes.” </p><p> </p><p>“Stop saying that!” Amanda snapped, her eyes still remained tearless; she would not let them flow. </p><p> </p><p>“Well if you want people to stop saying it, then you have to do something about it!” Nelson held her hands out as if to say <em> “I can offer you nothing more.” </em> She blinked twice, at her wits end. </p><p> </p><p>“Well! Well I... I… don’t…. I don’t know what to do, Nelson. I don’t know where to go, who to talk to…. It feels like I try to change things, but when I do, everything goes wrong. I try to not be as reckless, and people get hurt. I try to be cautious and the whole damn universe just turns everything on its head! Look at this Nelson!” Amanda gestured to the whole of the Academy with a hand wave. “What part of this situation allows me to be patient? At what point could I have just asked that giant fucking weed to give me a second so I could <em> think things over </em> ? Or should I have asked that bug-eyed witch to not put us in <em> that </em> much danger?” Amanda felt exhausted just by venting all of this frustration; she didn’t even feel it was helping, like it wasn’t <em> actually </em> targeting the problems that irked her. “Even you! You told me to do what I thought was right, and now I’m getting told <em> I’m </em> the one who’s being too risky!? I’m getting mixed fucking signals here Nelson!” Amanda gripped her scalp tightly, this was worse than pulling teeth.</p><p> </p><p>Nelson slouch forward, hands loosely held together in hesitancy. She had no idea how to approach this either. “You’re like a daughter to me, Amanda. I mean it.” Nelson knew that wasn’t helpful, but she had to say it. “And I just don’t know what to say to that, to be honest…. I don’t have the answers to this problem. Plain and simple.” Her aviator cap was slapped back onto her head in a huff. </p><p> </p><p>“Then can you do me a favor, the one I’ve been asking you to do, and leave me alone for now.” Amanda’s tone of voice made it seem like she’d given up; maybe a part of her did. “If you don’t have the answers, then I guess I just gotta do it myself. So, please? Just… go.” </p><p> </p><p>Nelson fixed her witch hat onto her head and nodded. She felt hurt, heavy, and scatterbrained; she needed time alone as well. “Then I just hope you know what you’re doing, and you find what you’re looking for.” Nelson stood up and regarded Amanda with finality. “I’m sorry, Amanda.” She felt as a mentor she should have been able to be of better help, but she was a broom riding professor, not Amanda’s therapist, try as Nelson did. She made for the door and exited without any further words; there were none that need be said, and none that could change things right now.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda sat alone then, staring at the door that had shut with regret and frustration. She wanted Nelson, anyone, to stay and help, but her damnable pride wouldn’t let her. She convinced herself she was beyond help, she’d sink or swim by the cruel twists of fate. Amanda couldn’t really believe it, but Sucy was right. <em> “Same shit, different day.” </em>She needed a drink.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda slowly pulled her way out of bed, wiping her eyes with an arm just to make sure she wasn’t tearing up. The only solace her mind could find lay within her jacket. She stepped to it, the jacket hung over a chair, and snatched her flask from the pockets. This time, it wasn’t filled with water. She greedly downed it all in a single swig, and if she had more, she’d blast through it too. The metal can was set harshly on the nightstand beside Amanda’s sick-bed, clanging against the wood. She breathed heavily, gasping for air as her body leaned on the small stand for support. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda had let Sucy’s words become her own, and it felt like she lost a battle with existence itself. Her mind made silent and tenuous peace with an early death while she spoke aloud in a mumble to herself. “How the hell can any of them stand you?” </p><p> </p><p>No response came; just the gentle flicker of a nearby candle-wick graced Amanda’s ears. The Fire within smoldered; had it chosen poorly?</p><p> </p>
<hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“How’s my hair then? Nothing out of place, correct?” Diana examined herself in the mirror for the umpteemth time in the past hour. </p><p> </p><p>Akko groaned. “I’ve checked five times nowww…. You’re fine! It’s not like Chariot would care. We’re literally in the middle of a crisis and you’re worried about hair?” She squinted, appearing in the corner of the reflection. </p><p> </p><p>“As long as I appear normal, Akko.” Diana explained, again, for the umpeenth time. There was no frustration in her voice though, and she stood after finding all was well. “Shall we be off?”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t <em> have </em> to appear like everything’s normal Diana…. I mean, no one’s fooled.” Akko tiredly replied. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I’m aware everyone knows what’s happening. But we’ve been over this. This will be the last time I go to such lengths until this is all over. Agreed?” It was a straight faced request, and one Diana didn’t really need approval for, but one she asked for regardless. “If only because it’s Chariot.” She added.</p><p> </p><p>“Oookaay.” Akko smushed her left cheek against the palm of her hand, her face cocked sideways. “I know you two still have troubles, and I respect the time you need to take, but don’t you think you’re trying too hard, like, at your own expense?” </p><p> </p><p>Diana began for the door leading out of the Blue Team dorm. “I… think it is indeed a bit much, but I’m sure that, were I to abstain, I would be much worse off.”</p><p> </p><p>Akko hummed anxiously, following behind Diana closely. “It’s not like she’d yell at you, or think any less of you. I mean, if she did, I’d be <em> so </em> mad. And you have me at your back like, always, so wouldn’t it be alright?”</p><p> </p><p>“There’s something Deryll told me, and it’s the only valuable thing to come from her mouth: If you’re going to do something and aren’t one hundred percent sure about something, it’s too risky.” Diana held her arms behind her back as she walked, one hand clasping the other wrist. </p><p> </p><p>“And I’m one thousand percent sure it will be alright.” Akko upturned her nose, looking away as she walked beside Diana. </p><p> </p><p>Diana allowed herself a chuckle. “Akko, please, this is for me. And it would just be more effort to look disheveled after fixing everything up.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not <em> much </em> more effort.” Akko stuck her tongue out. “It’s the thought that counts!”</p><p> </p><p>Diana sighed, smiling and shaking her head; she could not deny Akko had a point, but even Diana had her illogical sides. “I suppose it is.”</p><p> </p><p>The two walked the disturbingly empty halls of Luna Nova, passing by scant few Antiquarians and professors; Dinner had just finished and everyone else was confined to their rooms. The new nine was among the exceptions, alongside a few other more courageous students such as Avery, Bice, Carmen, and—</p><p> </p><p>Wangari nearly tripped into Akko and Diana on their way up to Chariots’ quarters. “Waah!” They all gasped or jumped in unison. The three all came to a tumbling halt, but at least everyone managed to stay on their feet, mostly. Diana had nearly fallen to the side and gripped onto the wall for support while Akko used a little spell to bounce her right up from the floor, landing her back up on her feet. Wangari meanwhile nearly fell right onto her rear in the stairwell, but managed to scramble into a stable posture. </p><p> </p><p>Eyes met from all three of them, and they began to all slowly chortle, then chuckle, then laugh. </p><p> </p><p>“Hahaha! Jeez, you two nearly gave me a heart attack!” Wangari held one knee in hand, the other resting at her hip. </p><p> </p><p>“My apologies, Wangari. I think we were both a bit lost in our thoughts.” Diana giggled one last time before she cleared her throat and let neutrality reign over her posture and expression again.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah! Our bad! Things got real quiet! Easy to daydream.” Akko beamed; she hadn’t had a good chance to talk to Wangari in a week or so. </p><p> </p><p>Wangari waved a hand apologetically. “No worries, no worries. I had my head in the clouds too; just got done talking with Professor Chariot.” Wangari maintained her smile, but Diana caught on to something hidden beneath; a twinge of nervousness. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh? You needed to talk to Chariot too?” Akko leaned in. “She’s not like… acting weird, right? And her skin isn’t loose either? I’m not ruling out she <em> could </em> be a body double in a Chariot sui—”</p><p> </p><p>Diana reached a hand over, pinching Akko’s lips without much effort or even turning her body. Akko continued to blubber and then delved into a muffled tirade against Diana as Diana spoke. “Is everything alright, Wangari? I didn’t think Chariot would be very involved in any of this?”</p><p> </p><p>“This? Oh, yeah, the lockdown and such.” Wangari rubbed the back of her head. “Well, she isn't. I kinda came…. Ahh it’s a bit of a dumb reason, but maybe you guys would understand?” Wangari could use a second opinion, especially from the two witches closest to Chariot. “If you’d hear me out.”</p><p> </p><p>Akko finally freed herself from Diana’s pinching fingers and spoke up. “We’d be happy to help! What’s up, what’s up?” Akko bounced on her heels; the sign of a good mood. </p><p> </p><p>Diana was far more sedentary, and less excited; more curious. “We did have something important to speak of with Professor Nord, but I wouldn’t want to leave your concerns unanswered if you have any.”</p><p> </p><p>Wangari leaned against the wall, her smile brightening for just a moment more before her face became only <em> mildly </em> uneasy. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you if you guys think it’s dumb to talk about this though.” Diana shook her head reassuringly while Akko “naawwed” and waved dismissive hands as a sign of good faith; they’d hear her in full. “Thanks, both of you.” She let her body relax. “Well it’s about my career.”</p><p> </p><p>Diana raised a brow. “Is Chari—Ahem, Professor Nord knowledgeable of news broadcasting?” </p><p> </p><p>“Not exactly.” Wangari forced a smile; it spoke volumes of her uncertainty. “I was asking about stage productions. Big flashy shows like she did. She wasn’t exactly comfortable talking about it, but I—”</p><p> </p><p>“YOU WANT TO BE LIKE SHINY CHAR—MHMHMHMMM!?” Another pinch on the lips had Akko floundering in her fangirl state. Diana sighed and shot Akko a glance, silently advising her to let Wangari finish. Akko dropped her arms, grumbled, and was released.</p><p> </p><p>Wangari was nearly blown back by the sudden outburst, but rather than be off put or find Akko “weird” like so many others did, Wangari just smiled wider. That infectious joy of Akko’s got to her. She leaned back when replying. “Well, I mean, maybe a part of me does, but I actually was more interested in learning about the production side of things. I think I’d want to be more of a promoter, a manager; someone who can help stars get their gigs. You know.” Wangari was being honest, but she was all the more unsure for it.</p><p> </p><p>Akko raised a brow. “Ehhh?! What about the LNN? Imean obviously you’re gonna graduate and that’d be kinda unnecessary, and we still have to get out of this dome, but what about going into reporting afterward? You <em> love </em> that kinda stuff! I couldn’t imagine you doing anything else!” She straightened her posture while her face contorted in confusion.</p><p> </p><p>Wangari stood away from the walls, stepping down to the same level of flooring as the rest. “Well, maybe a month ago if you asked, I’d have said the same thing. Really I think it’s my <em> dream </em> job…. But, well, maybe it’s just that. A dream. A fantasy.” Her eyes turned downward for only a moment, rising to Diana when she began to speak.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m certain it could be a reality. Especially as a witch; being able to make sense of and explain magical events to the mostly mundane audience must be quite the boon.” Diana touched her left cheek thoughtfully. “But you knew that, of course. So what made you suddenly unsure?”</p><p> </p><p>Wangari took a moment to gather her words, rolling her right hand over her left knuckles as she hummed. “Hmmm… I think it’s honestly just an issue of truth.” Again, she took another few moments to get her thoughts in order. She had just been through this conversation with Chariot, but she was still so uncertain of which route in life was best that she had to keep weighing the options every moment. “I mean, call it rich to be worrying about this in a time of crisis, but I feel I won’t be able to use my own voice if I fall in line with a big time media outlet.” </p><p> </p><p>Akko tightened her gaze, processing the statement before she added. “Like you wouldn’t be able to report on what you wanted to?”</p><p> </p><p>“Right.” Wangari snapped her fingers. “It’s that, but it’s a bit more. I mean, I still need to make a living and while my family's fine… I can’t just leave them with the cost of my education. I’m not from any special family or anything; just had solid fundamentals and made a good impression with my letter, I guess. I didn’t get many special cuts to the tuition.”</p><p> </p><p>Diana sighed. “It pains me to see any of the academys’ graduates be burdened with such exorbitant costs…. Truly, the bettering of the mind and the teaching of magic should be free for all to pursue.” It was a bit ironic to be coming out of Diana <em> Cavendish’s </em> mouth. </p><p> </p><p>Akko made sure that was clear. “You could spot her some cash Ms-your-excellency von money-bags.” She was teasing of course. </p><p> </p><p>“W-Well, maybe if I had that kind of money to begin with! It’s not like we were able to keep the estate as it was…. And you know where I stand with my politics.” Which was right beside Akko, or at least, that was what Diana thought.The Cavendish estate meanwhile had been considerably downgraded to pay off the heavy debts her aunt and cousin had accrued: They lived in a stately country house now; quite a big one, but it wasn’t completely unreasonable for six people. Diana’s family and their two closest friends, the family’s oldest ex-servants, were the inhabitants.</p><p> </p><p>“I knoowwww; take a joke with grace sometime…. Or you’ll… pff... <em> lose your head </em>.” Akko sputtered, withholding her dumb laugh.</p><p> </p><p>“Guillotine jokes. Classy.” Diana rolled her eyes heavily. </p><p> </p><p>“Uhh, heheh, it’s really alright guys.” Oh right, Wangari was still there. Diana and Akko shaped up and returned their focus to the Kenyan witch who spoke again. “I’d appreciate any help you can offer, but it’s not like I’d be <em> doomed </em> if I didn't land the biggest job at the ‘best’ news station in say, the UK, or South Africa, the states, or whatever. It’s more I’d have to go back and live at home if I had to start where most do nowadays; with online publications.” Wangari shrugged. “I mean, I kinda want to work in that space to begin with. It’s more that so many of those sites would want me writing, well, pardon my French, kinda bullshit articles. Half of the time they’d want me to say whatever gets them clicks, and the other half they just wouldn’t care.”</p><p> </p><p>Akko offered her sympathies with an arm around Wangari’s shoulder. It wasn’t wholly unwelcome, but it was a tad unexpected. “Aww, Wangari. You’ll find a great news job! I’m certain a reporter like you would be the best any big time or even local station could ever ask for! And what’s wrong with heading back home? I’m sure your folks wouldn’t mind helping you out while you find your footing.”</p><p> </p><p>Wangari bobbed her head to the left and right, shrugging as though weighing scales. “I could, and I really love my family. They <em> want </em> me to come back if anything.” She brought her hands together in front of her waist, twiddling her thumbs. “But I have this personal problem…. I wouldn’t mind them, but I’d feel like I’m not <em> going </em> anywhere in life.  That’s what bothers me most. I always gotta be working towards some bigger goal, and without that I just kinda get lost, you know?”</p><p> </p><p>Diana nodded once. “It’s wholly understandable. Getting stuck does no one any good.” She offered a half outstretched hand, palm facing Wangari. “And to add on to what Akko said, I wholly agree that you certainly have the talent for it. In general, really, not just talent in reporting.”</p><p> </p><p> Wangari couldn’t help but smile toothily; her pearly whites forming a genuine grin while her head turned partly to the side out of flattery. “I, uh, heheh, I really do love all the confidence you two have in me, but I don’t think I’d want to work for those stations. Sure, I’d be reporting… <em> facts </em>…” Wangari air quoted the word. “But not in the right way. They’d be skewed; really bias in all the wrong ways. Someone like you should know that.” The statement was mostly directed at Akko.</p><p> </p><p>Akko chuckled weakly. “I mean, y-yeah! Of course! I-I just didn’t want to, well, discourage you from chasing your dream!” Akko was <em> all </em> about dreams. Her whole existence was fueled by the stuff.</p><p> </p><p>Diana hummed understandingly. “It is worse to fail to see a dream fulfilled, then to learn the hard way that the paradise once sought was in fact no sanctuary at all.” She added sagely. Akko cocked her head, while Wangari understood, but repeated it to herself in a hushed whisper, making sure she really got the full meaning. Diana cut out the middle man, making sure to mind her penchant for poetry or purple prose. “It’s better that Wangari realize her dream was likely to end up hurting her more than helping her through <em> reasoning </em> it out rather than diving right in. The audacious approach is not always the proper one, Akko.” </p><p> </p><p>Akko slumped her shoulders, leaning on Wangari for support. “Baahhh… I guess you’re right.” She then sighed heavily, slipping into one of her low-glum states.</p><p> </p><p>Wangari stumbled a bit as Akko put her whole weight on her left side, laughing weakly. “H-Hey now, don’t get sad on my behalf. If it’s not meant to be….” She really wished it was. “Then I guess it’s not meant to be. Besides, it’s not my <em> dream </em>, dream, but being a manager or producer for a theatre group or something like that has always been my fall-back option.” Wangari struggled to push Akko up and off with gentle nudges, until Akko had a light-bulb idea. </p><p> </p><p>Akko bounced back from that low-low to a high-high instantly. “What if you came to Japan with me when <em> I </em> start <em> my </em> career as a stage performer! YOU COULD BE MY MANAGER!” Akko exploded into a hop, clenching her fists lightly and holding them close to her chest. She radiated <em> “yay!” </em> energies. </p><p> </p><p>Diana and Wangari both shared shocked stares, not because the idea was off the table, but because neither had considered it. “And you’d… want that, Akko?” Wangari asked while holding her breath.</p><p> </p><p>“Uhhh, DUH!” Akko leaned over, hands on her hips. “I need someone who’s as unflinching in their beliefs as me, and then some! And you fit that bill perfectly, Wangari!” She began to count on her right hand Wangari’s strength, still leaning in all “matter of fact” like. “You’ve got a sharp eye! Nothing would get past you! Your sense of style is impeccable, and I really need help designing a proper stage outfit! You’re awesome, also! So that’s a BIG plus! And—”</p><p> </p><p>“Ahem!” Diana interrupted with a smile, resting a hand gently on Akko’s upper back. “Not to douse yoir enthusiasm, love, but I think you’re making her flush.” And they had an uncomfortable conversation to push through with Chariot afterward; Diana enjoyed this distraction though, and Wangari’s company.</p><p> </p><p>Sure enough, Wangari was smiling uncontrollably and holding her cheeks with both hands. She wasn’t shy at all, but it was hard to not get a bit flustered when leveled with such excited and genuine praise. “D”aaawww, you guys….” </p><p> </p><p>“Eheheh… sorry Wangari, Diana. I got kinda carried away again.” Akko stood back up, swaying side to side with eyes turned up to the sky. </p><p> </p><p>Diana shook her head, pecking Akko on the cheek. “All’s well, but, really, we shouldn’t linger.” Diana wanted to continue this conversation of course; it made the rest of the world melt away and seem peaceful, but she couldn’t allow herself to become negligent. “Wangari, it was a pleasure talking to you, and I promise that if you’d want to speak more on this later, once things have settled, I’ll make time for you.”</p><p> </p><p>“And I’ll always have time for this kinda stuff! So count me in too!” Akko puffed up her chest slightly. </p><p> </p><p>Wangari giggled. “You two are just too dang cute.” Maybe in normal times, Wangari would have taken out a small slice of the paper to highlight the power couple’s cuteness one last time before graduation. It wasn’t <em> news </em> per say, but it always seemed to brighten many readers' days, so why not include it?  “Honestly?” She brought her hands behind her back, considering her words one final time, even if her mind was starting to favor this option anyway. “I’ll take you up on that, I think. We’ll talk it over more later, but for now, sure, count me in.” She’d be able to knock Asia off of the continents she’d visited; it was a personal sort of wish to travel everywhere in the world at least once.</p><p> </p><p>“YAY!” Akko threw her arms up. “I’ve always kinda wanted to get you know more, so definitely, when we get out of this mess, we’ll spend TONS more time together!” Akko looked to Diana then and saw she was clearly thinking about the upcoming conversation with Chariot. In light of that, Akko dampened her own joy for the sake of speeding this along. “But uh, we have an important thing to go talk about with Chariot! In private. Really sorry we couldn’t talk more.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s fine!” Wangari urged as she stepped past the two, starting off down the hall backwards, still facing the duo. “I hope you two find out what you’re looking for! Best of luck!” </p><p> </p><p>Diana nodded, her smile slowly fading as she came inevitably closer to facing Chariot again. “Mmm. To you as well, Wangari.” She waved gently while Akko waved ecstatically. Once Wangari had gone off, Diana sighed. “I suppose we can’t put it off any more then?”</p><p> </p><p>“Whaaa? You’re the one who wanted to do this anyway…. Even if you did take two hours to get ready.” Akko pouted with a faux leer. “I mean, I want to figure this out too, but, you know!”</p><p> </p><p>“I did, and I still do.... But that doesn’t make actually facing her any easier.” Diana wanted to apologize more than anything; that outburst she had was really tearing up her inside. They were things Diana had wanted to say in the past perhaps, and even things she wanted to say to Chariot now, but only the <em> worst </em> parts of herself would actually admit to holding that grudge; the parts Diana suppressed and controlled. Diana brushed her hair such that it was properly behind her and not drooping over her shoulders and closed her eyes, breathing deeply. “Shall we?” </p><p> </p><p>“I could go alone, you know. I wouldn’t think any less of you, and Chariot wouldn’t either.” Akko went behind Diana at the foot of the spiral stairs, gripping both of her girlfriends’ shoulders and massaging them lightly. </p><p> </p><p>Diana relaxed into the kneading hands, replying with a hint of her true desires shining through. “I’d owe you more than ever for that; were it so easy.” She shook her head once then, patting her cheeks once, and refocused her voice. “But I really do need to push myself. Without facing the problem, I’ll never learn to conquer it.” </p><p> </p><p>“But you <em> always </em> push yourself, for like, everything. You’re Diana Cavendish for cryin’ out loud, and you live up to the name more than anyone ever could!” Akko continued the massage, minding her volume given she was essentially speaking right in her girlfriend’s ear. “Don’t you think you’ve earned even <em> one </em> day off?” Akko spoke both literally and figuratively.</p><p> </p><p>Diana nodded, half smiling. “Yes, yes I’d say I have, but a Cavendishs’ work is never done. It’s not a matter of living up to it, Akko, it’s a matter of always living it.” She <em> was </em> , <em> is </em> , and <em> always will be </em> Diana <em> Cavendish </em> ; it was her curse and her blessing. There was no Diana without the <em> Cavendish </em> attached. “I don’t think you’d appreciate me taking a day off of <em> breathing </em>, right?”</p><p> </p><p>Akko slipped past Diana to the stairway, pointing accusatorily. “Don’t even joke about you getting hurt! There’s no vacation from living on my watch!” </p><p> </p><p>Diana chortled. “Well, then you see my predicament, don’t you?” She opened up her posture, her words marking the would be “end” of that conversation as she stepped forward. “Now come, Akko. We shouldn’t waste any more time.” Diana forced herself to smile, if only to alleviate Akko’s worry.</p><p> </p><p>It worked well enough to get Akko to drop her guard, sigh, and start up the stairs. “If you say so. This isn't over though! One of these days I’ll get you to relax! Even if it kills me!” She proclaimed with the once accusatory finger now pointed skyward as she went up the stairs. </p><p> </p><p>Diana shook her head, allowing her forced contentment to fall away now that Akko couldn’t see. “If I’m not allowed to joke of dying or being hurt, you aren’t either.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well… figure of speech! You know what I meant!” Akko let her hand drop down to grab the guard rail on their way up. Diana could only nod at that and hum as a form of acknowledgement. </p><p> </p><p>The climb upward was always a bit of a hassle. Both of them wondered why Chariot, even when she was <em> Ursula </em>, lived so secluded away from the other professors. Sure, most of the teaching staff lived off site and either flew to Blytonbury every morning or teleported to the academy from home, but there was still a dedicated Staff Wing made for living on campus. And yet Chariot sat alone, in a spire that loomed above all of the Academy. It wasn’t as tall as the New Moon tower, but it was quite high nonetheless. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Was it by choice?” </em>Diana’s mind mused. Chariot never had many privileges in the academy, perhaps even having less after her identity was revealed. She was the youngest professor as Ursula, and still was as Chariot; and then she faced punishment for hiding her identity for so long, alongside keeping the matter of the Seven Words hidden.</p><p> </p><p>Holbrooke, to her credit, was very soft in dishing out punishment to Chariot. If none of them knew any better, they might have thought Holebrook knew <em> exactly </em> what they were going through in trying to reawaken the words. It wasn’t like Holbrooke would ever give a clear answer if interrogated on the matter to begin with, and she was stepping down after this business was settled anyhow; so it seemed like a moot point. </p><p> </p><p>After a minute, but what felt like a brief eternity to Diana specifically, they arrived at the somewhat awkwardly placed door to Chariot’s quarters. Akko turned and faced Diana. “Ready?” A nod conveyed Diana’s stance on that; she was as ready as she’d ever be. With that, Akko wrapped on the door four times. “Chariooot! It’s Akko and Diana! We wanted to talk to you about something!” Four more knocks were added to the call, just to make sure the professor heard her, though Akko’s volume likely took care of that. </p><p> </p><p>Chariot peaked in from the side as she always did when getting visitors. Even after “setting things right” with Croix, the <em> Noir Rod </em>, and Akko (Diana was a work in progress), she had become shyer, more recluse. “A-Ahh! Akko! Dia—Ms. Cavendish!” She undid her lock and greeted the two with a seemingly rehearsed wave. “I was expecting you—Not because I thought you would come, more uh, I was expecting you two may want to see me in light of all that’s happened! I’m certain you two could use someone to talk to.” </p><p> </p><p>“So… you did expect us to come?” Akko scratched her head. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh! I… suppose I did then!” Chariot was sweating very, very slightly. Diana, keen as always, spotted the glistening on her forehead; her professor and former idol’s anxiety bode ill for this meeting. “Why don’t you come in, sit down.” Chariot stepped aside, making way for her successors. The two piled in, finding the place a tad messy, but that was to be expected. As long as it wasn’t messy as <em> Croix’s </em> room, all was well. </p><p> </p><p>Akko’s face became almost comically serious then as she marched into the room, turned on her heels, and grasped the back of a chair, leaning against it. “So… Chariot…. IF THAT IS YOUR REAL NAME!” Chariot nearly jumped out of her skin, which was of course hers and not stolen, at the sudden shout, and Alcor too squawked awake with a flurry of feathers.</p><p> </p><p>“Akko!” Diana didn’t mean to sound so fierce, but she also thought they’d agreed that the body double theory as dumb. That had Akko now recoiled and surprised. Diana took a moment to calm herself and settle her breathing. “Didn’t we talk about this…?” Chariot’s shaking caught Diana’s eye then; why did such an accusation make her so nervous? <em> “There’s no way….” </em>She thought.</p><p> </p><p>“S-Sorry, Diana!” Akko stuttered. “I’m sorry… I just thought it’d be funny.” Akko had gotten <em> much </em> better at being appropriate with her shenanigans, but she still missed the mark sometimes like anyone; it just felt worse when she did after all the flak she’d caught over the years. “I’ll uh, let you take over.” Her voice was a bit sulky.</p><p> </p><p>“Is… everything…?” Chariot started, but Diana cut her off. </p><p> </p><p>“No, no, it’s fine, Akko. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like I was snapping at you.” Diana came close to her girlfriend and squeezed her hand once. “Let’s take this on like we said we would.”</p><p> </p><p>“Together?” Akko lifted her head up.</p><p> </p><p>“Mhm.” Diana assured.</p><p> </p><p>“Right…. Sorry again, Professor. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Akko smiled sheepishly. </p><p> </p><p>Chariot shivered visibly, came forward, and managed to normalize her shakes when sat down across from Akko and Diana. “It’s quite… alright. I’ve just been very uneasy.” Guilt had wracked her like a ship in the death throes of a tidal wave; she was caught in the undertow of crippling frustration. “Please forgive my… I’m sorry for my… distance.” Alcor, who had been previously death-staring Akko for interrupting their nap, flew over to Chariot and began to whisper bird-speak into her ear; the hidden language between familiar and witch, specific to each pairing and bond. “No, no I need to explain… some of it, Alcor. I can’t keep hiding like this anymore.” </p><p> </p><p>Diana turned her head slightly, brow raised inquisitively. “You can’t keep hiding from <em> what </em> exactly?” She sat herself down while Akko leaned over from above. </p><p> </p><p>Alcor cawed and squawked defensively before Chariot could speak up. “Alcor, alcor! Easy!” The bird pecked aggressively in Diana’s direction, earning surprised sneer from her. “Alcor, enough!” Chariot commanded, having regained her confidence of old, if only for that moment. The bird familiar relented, grumbled and squeaked, and then whispered more things to Chariot. “Yes, yes I know, Alcor. I’ll tell them just enough for them to hopefully make sense of things on their own.” </p><p> </p><p>Akko simmered with questions; they bubbled to the surface and were blurted out in quick succession. “Why is Alcor being so rude! And why have you been so vague? And do you have to be vague and cryptic with us specifically? What about Sucy? I could get Sucy and you could tell her and she could tell us what you told her! Would that work?” </p><p> </p><p>Chariot had to quiet Akko with a raised finger to her own lips; she didn’t intend however to speak in unison with Diana. “Akko! Breathe!” The two shared brief looks of embarrassment and unease at that while Akko sucked in enough air to blow out a legion of birthday candles.</p><p> </p><p>With a harsh breath taken, Akko began to properly gather air and calm her storm of thoughts. “Ok…. Ok, I’m calm. But I still meant what I asked! Or, I meant to ask those questions. Can you answer them?”</p><p> </p><p>Diana added in, “Yes, Chariot. We can go through them individually if you’d prefer.” She was banking on Akko doing a lot of the talking right now, unintentionally so. Worse, she was beginning to feel complacent, and the part of her mind that was focused on offering that apology started getting drowned out by the side of Diana that preferred a quick and perfunctory meeting.</p><p> </p><p>Chariot rubbed her temples, eyes, and then wiped her whole face down, maintaining that old confidence for a little longer that she might be able to make this painless. “It’s alright, Ms. Cavendish.” She felt terrible having to use that address still, but not out of annoyance with Diana, but herself. “I’m used to Akko firing off like that…. Let’s… see what I can do.” She considered her words carefully; <em> very </em> carefully. “Alcor is being fresh because he’s worried for me. He thinks I’m in danger.” </p><p> </p><p>Alcor cawed as if to imply <em> “You are in danger you troll brained nitwit!” </em> but only Chariot knew of Alcor’s absolutely <em> rancid </em> vocabulary.</p><p> </p><p>Chariot continued in spite of that. “I’m being vague because…. I cannot answer that question. But yes, I must be specifically vague with you and several other individuals.” Chariot nodded firmly, her fingers tapping on the arm of her chair. “And, sadly, Sucy is one of the persons I must be vague with, but if she was not, I could not tell them regardless. I must be especially vague about things with you however.” </p><p> </p><p>Diana rubbed her chin slowly, now in an investigative mode. “So you must be vague, but you’re speaking quite clearly to us right now. And when you say you must be vague, do you mean like you were several nights ago? With the mana-lock passcode?”</p><p> </p><p>“So you figured that out.” Chariot smiled, her eyes twinkling. “Thank the Nine….” </p><p> </p><p>Akko interjected. “So you couldn’t have just told us!? Like, not even with a note?” Chariot shook her head. “Ughhh…. So we can’t even ask you what has you doing this, can we?”</p><p> </p><p>Chariot thought for a moment, and then shook her head. “I can explain nothing of my specific… state.” The twinkle and smile remained for now.</p><p> </p><p>She seemed to be carefully picking that last word, and Diana thought on that: <em> “Circumstances would have been a more succinct way to make that statement. Chariot is awkward though; at least usually. She seems put together for now. It won’t last. That tapping, she won’t stay that way long.” </em> Diana then spoke aloud. “So something <em> is </em> wrong then. Would you be able to deny that?” </p><p> </p><p>And then the smile and twink were gone; Chariot had to grind the gears of her mind together to figure out if she had enough <em> space </em> to make these statements. “I… would… be able to state that I am… currently experiencing events.” Chariot was awkward, but that was stated strangely enough to make a cat’s fur fall off. </p><p> </p><p>Akko opened her mouth to speak, but Diana felt she was on a roll, and it further suppressed that nagging worry about her outburst, so she didn’t want to stop. “And these events you’re experiencing, would you say they are immediately threatening you…. No, are they immediately causing you discomfort.” Akko quirked her head.</p><p> </p><p>Chariot tapped her face in quick succession, humming nervously before a quick thought came to mind. “I am experiencing a stomach ache.” She said aloud, as if to the room rather than anyone specific. Alcor chirped thrice; were they complienting Chariot’s wit? She wasn’t actually experiencing a stomach ache of course, not a normal one.</p><p> </p><p>“I see….” Diana sunk into her chair, considering which piece on the proverbial chess board to move again. <em> “She’s sick with anxiety, no doubt.” </em></p><p> </p><p>Akko came in with a verbal sledgehammer though and smashed the game board. “Uhh… I can get you some medicine! But Diana asked if you were threatened! Can you not explain—”</p><p> </p><p>“Shhh!” Diana and Chariot accidentally mimicked each other again, to their flush-cheeked lament. </p><p> </p><p>“Whaa!? I was just asking!” Akko pouted. “And you said we would do this together.” </p><p> </p><p>Diana bit her lower lip, curling her knuckles gently. <em> “Right. Forgot that.” </em> She had to get out of her own head briefly. “I’m sorry Akko, but I think our hunch was right, and we need to go about this differently.”</p><p> </p><p>“Differently how? If it’s that degrees of separation or whatever, she should be able to—” Akko started but stopped at Chariot suddenly conversing with Alcor:</p><p> </p><p>“Ahah! <em> How’d you know... </em> that was my favorite color, Alcor?” She accentuated the significant portions of her statements.</p><p> </p><p>Alcor cawed back. <em> “Well half of your shitty wardrobe is either white, red, or purple. It’s a one third chance, not the freakin’ lottery!” </em> As much as Alcor was trying to help, Chariot often had to withhold giggling at their absurd retorts to Chariots’ more absurd code signals.</p><p> </p><p>Akko’s mouth was partly agape at Chariots’ seemingly flippant statements. “I thought we were going to be serious about this! Ugh! You guys really frustrate me sometimes!” Akko was experiencing the same anger that gripped Diana when she came to consult Chariot on the nature of that strange rune. </p><p> </p><p>Diana picked up on the resemblance immediately then, spotting Chariot’s intended message. <em> “How did you know…. How did we know she was following the degrees of separation!” </em> Diana bolted from her chair upright almost immediately, spun to face Akko, and took her hands tightly. “Akko! You have to trust me and follow my lead! Just act like it’s normal. I’ll explain in a minute.”</p><p> </p><p>Akko’s eyes passed between Alcor and Chariot, scanning for some sort of physical sign, but Chariot was wholly intent on speaking to <em> just </em> Alcor now; at least outwardly. “I… don’t get it. What did you figure out?”</p><p> </p><p>“Like I said, I’ll explain after…. Now… uh… umm.” Diana stammered. She was <em> forced </em> now to break away from her persona. Only off the cuff thinking would allow them to actually converse with Chariot; if she could get Akko to realize things, they’d be sure to resolve this, as Akko was a whiz at puzzles. “Quick! Ask me something about uh….”</p><p> </p><p>“Uhh, sports? The weather? Conspiracy theories? Favorite food!” Akko snapped her fingers and then deflated as Diana shook her head. “No, got it…. Birds!” </p><p> </p><p>Alcor squawked at her, though Akko didn’t understand of course. <em> “If you mention anything about polly or his damn crackers I swear on Woodward’s gardening shears I’ll mess you up pal!” </em>Alcor may have taken a liking to the accents sported by city pigeons; which, for whatever reason, were always vaguely New Yorkian.</p><p> </p><p>Akko replied with a stuck out tongue. “Not you Alcor!” She moved back to trying out other topics. “Movies?” She was running out of immediate ideas, but Diana lit up, and so Akko reiterated. “Movies! What kind?”</p><p> </p><p>Diana looked around, scanning as her mind worked. Chariot’s tapping became incessant and she eagerly hoped that her two successors would figure out how to proceed. “Romance… no! Action! A drama, specifically, it was a slow burn kind of… court… drama!” Diana then leaned in to whisper to Akko. “Remember what I mentioned about the degrees of separation; they’re sometimes used to make <em> contracts </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>Akko’s eyes widened fully; now she understood. “Oh! Right, that film we saw, uh, a while back. With the lawyers, and the, and the….” Diana urged with a nod. “And then dispute over the old ladies will! I loved the scene where… the… daughter was working out the,” Akko turned and winked to Chariot like a cheesy cartoon character before looking back to Diana. <em> “Contract.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Chariot averted her eyes from Akko, making sure it didn’t seem like she was actually involved in the conversation. “<em> No, no. It wasn’t because of any bad deals I made, </em> Alcor. The salesman was just very adamant about the price, and I could simply not bring it lower!”</p><p> </p><p>Alcor chittered, which sounded like chuckling to Chariot. <em> “Adamant? Pfff. Maybe if you weren’t under witchipedia’s list of magical invertebrates you’d have the spine to stand up for yourself next time.” </em> Alcor earned a short leer; that one hit a bit too hard. <em> “What!? I’m doing my bit!” </em> Chariot rolled her eyes, groaning. </p><p> </p><p>Diana pulled apart the valuable tid bits as they came. <em> “Deal. No bad deals. No contracts. So she’s not been caught up with some powerful Fae or elemental or worse…. So what then? What else forces someone to distance her actions by degrees…. “ </em> The archives of Diana’s mind were scoured forty times over in an instant as she made a play for the right piece of scholarly knowledge that would lead her down the right path. <em> “Magic has rules. Some are true rules and others are enforced rules…. Lukic’s class…. The rats and the gratuitous punishments are all enforced; what about the true rules? Witches who time travel to a point… no that wouldn’t apply here. Witches who cause an object to go faster than… no that’s just physics. Witches who see the future….” </em>Ding!</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, Diana… about that movie….” Akko tried to keep things at least somewhat less awkward, but she was met with an epiphanous Diana’s shocked stare. </p><p> </p><p>“That’s it! Akko, did <em> you see any predictions </em> for this week's weather?” Diana blurted out.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehhh!? You said you didn’t want me to ask about the weather!” Her response didn’t matter, but Akko hadn’t realized that yet.</p><p> </p><p>Chariot meanwhile covered her mouth; she had to withhold blurting out an actual response to Diana’s coded question. She verbally scrambled for some semblance of a cohesive thought. “Warm! I’m feeling very…. Uh, warm! Yes, that’s it! Alcor, <em> you’re getting warmer </em>too, aren’t you?”</p><p> </p><p><em> “Nope.” </em> Alcor shook their head, pecking at Chariot’s shoulder. <em> “And if you’re too warm, you’re a witch; physician, heal your damn self! Or however the saying goes….” </em></p><p> </p><p>Akko didn’t miss a beat this time, catching onto the game as it went on. “Uhh, yeah, I <em> saw some predictions about…. </em> ” Her brain briefly failed her. <em> “Giant freaking domes over the school!” </em> Smooth. </p><p> </p><p>Diana palmed her face; maybe that was <em> too </em> on the nose. Chariot’s speaking though had Diana peaking through the space between her fingers. “ <em> K-Kinda! I thought I saw that </em> in a commercial once.” </p><p> </p><p><em> “Yeah because you’re basically a crazy cat lady who gets up at four in the morning to watch the infomercials. I swear you humans put the weirdest shit on at those hours.” </em> Chariot stifled a chuckle, her cheeks puffing up slightly to prevent actual laughter. </p><p> </p><p>Akko pumped her arms in self celebration while Diana replied. “<em> So you did see that? </em> I didn’t believe it, but what about the <em> days after that? Did you see anything about that?” </em> </p><p> </p><p>Akko then replied. “Uhhh, I don’t know! I think Thursday's forecast was…. <em> We get out and everything's great and Chariot no longer has to talk weirdly!” </em> Diana facepalamed <em> again </em>, this time with both hands. </p><p> </p><p>“Akko, you have to be discreet!’ Diana urged in a hissy whisper. </p><p> </p><p>“Bwah! I hate this…. I mean, actually it’s kinda fun, but I mean I hate that we have to do this!” Akko stomped one foot down. “I miss the way Chariot talked to us, and I want you two to make up!” </p><p> </p><p>Chariot choked on air, bringing all attention to her as she tried to wave it off. Her coughing fit left silence in the air, and left Diana with the torrent of thoughts regarding her and Chariot “making up.” She had though she was in the clear; that the apology and incident as a whole could be swept under the rug. Diana’s inner voice corrected that wishful thinking. <em> “As if you would be able to just forget it forever! Ugh! Damn it all and curse the Nine! If you keep acting like you’re in control all of the time, it’s going to make the moments when you have to admit you’re not all the more painful!”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Reason was a dizzying thing to consider, for as right as her inner voice was, Diana was able to equally reason that Chariot had wronged her too greatly to really deserve that apology. Even when most of Diana was screaming for forgiveness. <em> “You’re going to have to do it someday!” </em> She bit her own cheek on accident, and winced; her mind scattered at the sudden sensation, and her thoughts coalesced back into a concession. <em> “When this is all over…. Someday, I’ll apologize. For all of it.” </em></p><p> </p><p>By now, Chariot had gathered her breath and began to beleagueredly speak in code again. “<em> No…. I didn’t see that part </em> of the program. <em> I saw something…. It’s hard to describe. </em> I have to <em> be careful </em> about saying it. I… don’t… want to… <em> spoil </em> it?” She hesitated. Spoil wasn’t exactly the right word, but if she did spoil it, things would be <em> very </em> bad indeed. </p><p> </p><p>Alcor sighed in a weak caw. <em> “How long do I have to keep doing this? It’s honestly exhausting!” </em> Alcor was at least met with scritches under their chin which calmed their complaining. <em> “Oh yeah… that’s the spot. Keep this up and I’ll roll over if you ask nicely!” </em></p><p> </p><p>Diana took a few moments more than usual to process that last message, her mind having been dizzied by the sudden intrusion of guilt and regret. <em> “Something she can’t tell us…. Because if she did it would….” </em> Diana thought on the principle rules surrounding divination, and only one would warrant Chariot to be so careful and mysterious. Diana was pale in the face, frozen in fear. “No.” She intoned outwardly, her head slowly turning to Chariot. “No, no, that can’t be.” </p><p> </p><p>Akko, having prepared another dumb conversation to pretend to have, opened her mouth to speak, but shut it after seeing Diana had become terrified. “D-Diana, what is it?” She stepped forward, holding Diana by the arms which to Akko’s concern were slack. Diana did not immediately respond; she didn’t actually register Akko’s words.</p><p> </p><p>Chariot looked to Diana and allowed her eyes to close slowly. Nothing had been said, but Diana’s crestfallen state had conveyed more than words could. She nodded once, solemnly. </p><p> </p><p>Akko shook Diana once, then over and over again by the shoulders. “Diana! Diana come on, say something! I don’t know what you figured out!” The fright was infectious; the dread inscrutable, but present now. Something felt wrong and gross in Akko’s gut, like she’d been shot. “Chariot!” She turned to her mentor, still holding onto Diana. “What’s going on?” Akko was beginning to panic; she needed something, anything, to assure her all would be well. It had to be right? She was the witch who made everyone smile! She was the witch who saved the world! The world was bright and…. She could not ignore reality forever.</p><p> </p><p>Chariot rose with a creak from her chair, but otherwise, silence took over the room. Even Alcor had become enthralled in the despair of the semi-shared realization. Though of course Alcor knew all along what was threatening Chariot; they were one being, in a way, linked by powers and bonds forged through years spent together. Chariot, with Alcor moping on her shoulder, moved to very gently embrace Akko and Diana. </p><p> </p><p>Where Diana stood vacantly, arms still slack, Akko pulled Chariot into a great big hug; she didn’t understand why she did though, it just felt right. “Please! Just say something!” Akko urged with a cracking and faltering voice. Chariot only hugged back tighter; Diana blinked harshly, one tear escaping down her cheek. “Anything!” Akko pleaded. </p><p> </p><p>“It’ll be ok…. Shhh.” Chariot whispered as though she was tucking the two into bed; the two may as well have been her adopted children. “You need to trust me, alright?” She rubbed Diana’s back comfortingly; Akko would trust Chariot if she asked her to jump off a bridge, she wasn’t the one Chariot feared for. </p><p> </p><p>“No….” It wasn’t clear whether Diana was rejecting Chariot’s trust or if she was still in shock of her realization. “You can’t just keep that from us….” Her words were hushed at first, and then loud, even after pressing her face into Chariot’s chest to muffle them. “You can’t just not let us help you!”</p><p> </p><p>“Shhh….” Chariot hummed a calming tune. “It’ll be ok.” She reiterated after placing her cheek just beside Diana’s, her face now in between the two younger witches. Her own face held a sort of sadness that was difficult to describe. She was smiling; relieved to be known and understood. She still could not speak openly, but with Diana aware now of the truth, she could rest easier; not easy, everything was still uncertain, even in the realm of predicted futures, foreseen Fates. “Just do what your gut tells you, Diana.”</p><p> </p><p>Diana could forgive the usage of the first name here; if there was ever a time to let her guard down, it was now. “But I don’t know what to do… Akko doesn’t…. Why can’t we help you now?” She sobbed between sentences and words. Akko remained quiet meanwhile, feeling tears come on herself, but working past them for the sake of Diana. When the typically unfaltering Cavendish heir fell down, Akko had sworn to stand ever taller. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s not time yet. It’s time for you to go now.” Chariot sniffled, smiling wider as that twinkling came back. “You’ll know what to do, but I cannot tell you what that is.” </p><p> </p><p>“NO!” Diana pounded one fist against Chariot’s right arm. “No! I won’t let you abandon us! You’re not going to die before I….” Words escaped her, failed her even; everything shut down, she was feeling faint. “Before….” Her head was swimming in a sudden sea of bleakness; everything felt weightless.</p><p> </p><p>Akko’s grip tightened at the word, it left a bitter taste in her mouth; brought an irregularity to her heartbeat. “Die?” Then, before Akko could even press the question further, she felt Diana fall limp against Chariot and herself. Her legs had gone limp and she had indeed fainted. Akko, with surprising speed and grace, managed to Catch Diana as she fell down. The two were brought to their knees with Akko supporting her girlfriend by leaning her back across her own form, arms holding her steady at the sides. “Diana!” She yelped on the way down. </p><p> </p><p>Chariot had come down to kneel as well, helping to hold Diana up for a moment before letting go. Alcor, meanwhile, removed themself from the situation, not wanting to get in the way of the trio’s moment. “It was too much for her; I’ve always been too much for her.” Chariot’s words, soothing and content, juxtaposed Akko’s continued yelling and shaking. Chariot reached a hand over and brushed Diana’s cheek and forehead. “She’s alright, Akko.” Chariot blinked away the need to cry. “But she needs to rest. Bring her to her room; when she awakens, I hope you two can reconcile with what you know.” Chariot hoped above all,should the worst come to pass, that the witches she treasured most would be able to remember her fondly; to bring pain even after death would be the worst of hells, she had brought enough in life. </p><p> </p><p>Akko, silenced by Chariot’s request, turned up and stared longingly in her professors’ melancholic eyes. “But we can’t just leave you, Chariot! You never left us!” Akko furiously shook her head in the negative while continuing. “Just tell us what we have to do to prevent it! We’ll do it! I’ll do it if Diana can’t! Anything, Chariot! Anything!” There had to be a happy ending at the end of this dark road. Akko and Diana had awakened magic! They wielded the power of the Shiny Rod; their magic was true and real, as true and real as their love. Was that not enough?</p><p> </p><p>Chariot reached out, her hand rubbed the top of Akko’s head, and it slowly brought the younger witch to cease her shaking. Their eyes met once more as Chariot spoke. “I can’t tell you anything else, Akko.” But by every fiber in her being she wished she could. </p><p> </p><p>“Why…? Why do you have to keep it from us?” Akko moped, though she kept herself from weeping or losing herself in sorrow; she had Diana to care for, she could cry later. </p><p> </p><p>“When the time has passed…. If I’m able, I will tell you why. But I cannot do that right now.” Chariot rose to her feet, assisting Akko up by helping to Carry the still fainted Diana. “You have to trust me, and do as you always have: Follow your gut, your heart.” After years of mentoring and repairing strained bonds, after years of being relied on by others, Chariot now relied on those same others.</p><p> </p><p>Akko fidgeted, struggled, but eventually succeeded in hoisting Diana up and into her arms; she was quite strong for someone who didn’t exercise normally. She was at a loss for worthwhile things to say. She had questions, sure, but she knew none of them could be answered, and every question deferred simply made her more and more despondent. Akko clenched her eyes tight and sniffled, leaning into Chariot one last time for an awkward sort of embrace. </p><p> </p><p>Chariot obliged it, kissed Akko, and then Diana, on the forehead, and retreated from them. “Be well, Akko, and no matter what happens, don’t lose the magic between you and Diana…. The world would be a worse place without it.” Chariot again forced a smile, meeting Akko’s gaze for ten or so seconds before turning about and sitting in a chair faced out toward the freshly arisen moon; its light bathed Chariot through the window pane.</p><p> </p><p>Akko stayed longer, stared longer, but she could not do so forever. Blindly, Akko rushed down the stairs with Diana held tight against her chest. Despite her eyes being shut tight, Akko knew the way. She had come to learn every nook and cranny of the academy; it was not her birth home, but Akko, like so many, had blossomed here. </p><p> </p><p>Back in Chariot’s room, Alcor returned to their bonded witch. They had only a few words to say as they shrunk beside Chariot’s neck, snuffling up in the space between. <em> “You were a great teacher.” </em> They were seldom nice, let alone complimentary. <em> “You know that, right?”  </em></p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm….” Chariot very slowly nodded and leaned her head against Alcor who cooed and chirped softly. “It’s not my place to say. Not after all that’s happened….” </p><p> </p><p><em> “So who has the final verdict then?” </em> Alcor closed their eyes, hoping they would soon both be able to rest quietly. </p><p> </p><p>Chariot pursed her lips as she drifted off to a sort of sleep; her eyes too began to shutter. “Fate. Fate will decide if I’ve taught them well.” </p><p> </p><p><em> “Always does come back to fate, doesn’t it?” </em> Alcor grumbled wearily. </p><p> </p><p>“That it does…. Ahhh….” Chariot yawned, covering her mouth as she did so. “You still remember what I asked of you, yes?”</p><p> </p><p><em> “Yeah….” </em> Alcor clicked and chirped in what must have been a sort of avian whimper. <em> “I’ll take care of ‘em. Got nothing better to do anyway.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Chariot breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth; sleep overtook her. “Thank you, Alcor….” She whispered.</p><p> </p><p>Alcor peaked their right eye open, watching Chariot as she fell into the realm of dreams. Once they were certain Chariot couldn’t hear them, Alcor spoke one last time. <em> “It’s the least I can do. I still owe you big time, Cherry.” </em></p><p> </p>
<hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“We believe We understand Chaos’ nagging and annoying more intimately now.” Cause remarked drolly while resetting the Mancala board with a lazy swish of the hand. </p><p> </p><p>“Truly, this wait is insufferable. We stole away with one of the largest aerial vessels the mundane world has constructed; truly it cannot be <em> that </em> slow.” Effect groaned. For once, she and her twin were not smiling; no one told them dirigibles and blimps weren’t exactly meant for continental flights, enhanced by magic or not. “We still hold by Our earlier prediction.” She scratched at the wall of her left eye-socket; it was surprisingly empty. </p><p> </p><p>Cause snickered, clacking the stone pieces into fours and disseminating them into the board; Mancala was a familiar game to them, another vestige from <em> home </em> , whatever that was or meant now-a-days. “Truly? You believe them to be <em> that </em> incompetent? We’re starting to wonder as well why we chose them.” Chaos had made a good point in calling out the weakness of the Bathorys. If they could not regain power in four hundred years time, despite being one of the oldest vampire broods in the world, what could they be expected to do?</p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm….” It was Effect’s move; Cause started the last game. She traced her hand along the six pits designated to her side and chose the one closest to her Mancala, despite the third farthest being the typical best opening play. “We think it less a result of their personal weaknesses,” She cast the stones in their respective pots with a finger flick. “And more so one borne from our enemies' unpredictability.”</p><p> </p><p>“Unpredictability? Do tell, do tell; your deeper meaning evades me.” Cause pulled from her first pot and cast the stones. </p><p> </p><p>“Unaccounted for factors. Will acts as though she holds all the cards; she always has.” Effect raised a brow at Cause’s move, finding it strange for some reason. “And while We believe her to indeed be right to think this will all end soon, We believe it will end for… different reasons.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your sentiment reeks of hesitancy. You believe The Deceiver will be present?” Cause peered into her twins mind, something they did often to one another; not all thoughts were openly displayed though. </p><p> </p><p>“It is a fear of Ours.” The game continued, Effect gaining an initial upper hand in the total stone count. </p><p> </p><p>“And why wouldn’t Will account for its appearance? Why, We think she might <em> want </em> that to happen.” Cause giggled. “Ohhh, the drama! The tension!” </p><p> </p><p>“We would have to fight The Deceiver too.”  Effect’s words bit at Causes’ excitement, nipping it in the bud. “Presuming we even could; The Pact forbids it… under normal circumstances.” </p><p> </p><p>Cause leaned back into the dark nothingness, as if reclining into a form fitting seat, hands folded on her lap. “Truly, sister, have we ever known normalcy? Even before….” Cause paused, clearing her throat. She needn’t say more, Effect read her thoughts. </p><p> </p><p>“We suppose not.” The game neared conclusion, but the two had paused, focusing more on their conversation; it was Cause’s turn. “You’re still thinking of The Deceiver though; if she, er, it, appeared.” </p><p> </p><p>Cause drummed her fingers against her knees as a smile slowly formed. “Perhaps! We wonder, would we actually succeed in a duel of power against that fiend?” Effect hummed, but did not speak. Cause knew her answer already. “So if we could, then why would The Pact even force us to work around it? Is it not in The Pursuer’s interest to see The Deceiver dead?” </p><p> </p><p>“Tread careful with your wandering mind, sister.” Effect raised a cautionary finger. “It has never taken well to questions of that manner…. Not that We or you have the means to decipher its inscrutable tongue.” She looked back to the board then, sighing. “Would you kindly make your move?” Her tone demanded haste.</p><p> </p><p>Cause rolled her eyes. “You lack the finer points of strategizing.” Her move ended the game, and with their magic at work, the totals were counted; Cause won by a singular stone. “You should have known the game was lost from turn one.” </p><p> </p><p>Effect leered, distracted now from their prior topic. “Cheat! To be so petty!” She accused with a spit a small glob of a highly acidic substance from her mouth that burned a hole through the Mancala board. </p><p> </p><p>“For shame, sister!” Cause cackled. “To be such a sore loser. Truly, We thought We were playing with Will for a moment.” </p><p> </p><p>Effect briefly scoured Cause’s mind; she didn’t cheat, she simply won by making random moves, throwing Effect’s game and counting completely off. “As if Will enjoys anything anymore.” </p><p> </p><p>“Even the hunt?” Caused snapped the Mancala game away, leaned forward, and held her head up by the chin with one hand. </p><p> </p><p>“We believe it more… an automatic thing for her…. She is hard to describe. Harder to describe correctly.” Effect sat back into darkness, but flipped upside down, her her now aligned vertically with Causes’ but opposite in direction; it did not seem to phase her, nor did it seem like gravity was working against her. “Persistent. Unyielding. That is all we have ever been able to know her as.” </p><p> </p><p><em> “And cruel.” </em> Cause sent the thought to her sister, and they shared nods of agreement. They dared not speak insults of she who wielded the mantle; the same was done when Chaos had wielded it, and even Cause or Effect. She who held the mantle was to be feared, loathed. The memories of those times, when either of the twins held power, always strangely struck the opposite twin. Cause tried to get her mind of that, to no avail: “So regarding your predictions…. Why don’t we make a bet of it?”</p><p> </p><p>Effect too was not swayed from thinking of those times when she or Cause held power, but engaged in the conversation nonetheless. “Very well. You know my position.”</p><p> </p><p>Cause shook her head. “Not all of them.” Flashes of scenes from Effect brutalizing and scorning Cause bubbled to the surface, and then fell away once again. “We wonder, do you bet that The Deceiver is still alive?”</p><p> </p><p>Effect stared thousands of yards off and away as a vivid memory of being tormented by her sister flared to life. It dispersed when Cause reiterated her question. “A-Ah…. No, in truth, We do not believe her to be present. We are afraid it is, but find it unlikely.” Effect pointed lazily. “Do you think the Bathorys will claim victory for us?” </p><p> </p><p>“We do, actually.” Cause examined her palm; this body she inhabited now did not bear the scars of past ones, but she could imagine them. Still, the twins spoke with absolute calmness. “We find them annoying, yes. Loathsome, even. But their strength now is nigh insurmountable. Only treachery would lay them low now.” Cause licked her lower lip, chuckling briefly. “A follow up question then: Do you bet that the treachery would come from within the Bathory clan, or our own?” </p><p> </p><p>Effect blinked in a stupor, the question stunned her. “What sort of accusation is that?” Effect was always more defensive than Cause; one might say reactive, even. “It would surely be the fault of those ghoulish kings and queens; their crowns hang too heavily on their empty skulls.” Effect’s subconscious fell back onto another vivid and terrible memory of the twins' shared cruelty. The Pact forbade infighting, but The Pursuer was not all seeing. The faintest of cracks in Effect’s voice signaled her faltering calmness. “A different question for you then. Which of the New Nine holds the Claimh Solas?” </p><p> </p><p>Cause cooed; this one interested her greatly. “Oooohh…. So many factors to consider!” Cause pitter pattered her left hand fingers on her right knuckles. “You first, you first! Surely you must have a better idea to have posed the thought!”</p><p> </p><p>“The woman from the north. The one with glasses and auburn hair.” Effect nodded resolutely, her composure now fully returned as she suppressed any ill thoughts. “We have not seen hide nor hair of her since our plan was put into motion; they must be hiding her.”</p><p> </p><p>“Aaahhhh! A well observed fact! We had not considered her…. Though for sake of variety in answers, We place it in the hands of the Cavendish descendant. T’would be the only thing that makes sense!” Cause threw her hands up in exclamation. “Think on it: The Cavendishes remain as the only cohesive bloodline of the Eight Traitors; there is no other worthy candidate.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe so….” Effect clicked her tongue. “Say, why do you even level such queries at us? Why make a betting game of it?” </p><p> </p><p>Cause shrugged. “Boredom! Chiefly.” She then opened her mouth part way in a bonafidely creepy smile. “And because, we may share <em> everything </em>, but surely there will be a way to make payments due to the winners.” </p><p> </p><p>“Everything…. We do share <em> everything </em> , yes….” Even this torment. Effect grit her teeth, but her expression did not otherwise change. “We will be sure to pay you <em> in kind </em>. Win or lose.” </p><p> </p><p>“We would have it <em> no… other… way.” </em> Cause felt her toes curl in, her spine became tense, all involuntarily as her smile only solidified itself, now mimicked by Effect.</p><p> </p><p>Both then began to probe the other's mind quite fiercely. A war of psyche’s occured in the time between seconds. Memories were the munitions; trauma the ordnance. Their minds melded in that time, becoming a vortex of accusations and insults, a sort of release from their otherwise “sane” state where the floodgates of emotion were flung wide. Where Will was the unfeeling objectivist, and where Chaos was the mad and flighty sadist, Cause and Effect were the in-betweens; witches of shared torment in a constant battle on the plane of the mind for even the smallest bit of superiority. They knew both the unflinching stoicism and unhinged ravings of their polarized ‘sisters’ and lived both experiences at the same time. </p><p> </p><p>Amidst those moments of internal pandemonium though, Cause and Effect both managed to hide away their <em> deepest </em> and <em> worst </em> of accusations away:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “This is all her fault of course. Cause was the one who encouraged Will to delve beneath the roots.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “That wretch! Effect, to share a womb with her was assuredly my greatest of curses. She pushed Will over the edge! She made her pry where our eyes shouldn’t have! Damn them for making me get involved!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “And if that was not enough, she had to go and beseech Chaos at Pytho to scry the future! The poor girl went mad from it! She was so young!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “First she believed Will’s insanity, and then she forced it on Chaos! Gods and ancestors damn her! Had she not suffered enough in life?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “But truly….” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “The worst came though….” </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> “When Cause </em>—”</p><p> </p><p><em> “When Effect </em>—”</p><p> </p><p><em> “Knelt before that accursed outside; The Pursuer </em>—</p><p> </p><p><em> “Became awed by that eld thing, another invader </em>—</p><p> </p><p><em> “And agreed to it’s offers!” </em> The two minds shouted the same words, coincidentally, and then broke off into their own take on the events. <em> “The Middle Kingdoms…. SUNDERED!” </em> In their blank and silent stares, sweat dripped down from each of their foreheads; neither noticed. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Why did I let her </em>—”</p><p> </p><p><em> “How could I have been so naive to allow her to </em>—</p><p> </p><p><em> “DECEIVE ME SO!” </em>The shrieking of the voices once again coincided; the void around them was silent, but it reverberated. Eld things large and small scampered, they feared the Twins' fury.</p><p> </p><p>Reality slammed into them both like a semi on nitro; Will spoke: “We presume you two have nothing better to do, save stare at another… upside down?” She was surprisingly calm, but Will’s anger was always on a hair-pin-trigger. The twins were jolted awake and gasped in terror; Will did not scare them, but their link being broken like that was always a painful experience. </p><p> </p><p>“Nothing! Waiting, waiting! There is little to do but wait,” Cause started fearfully. “For the Bathorys to make their play! A terrible waiting game!” Effect ended</p><p> </p><p>Will leered. “Then where is your left eye, Effect?” </p><p> </p><p>“A-Ah! Yes, We sent it away,” Effect began, tugging on the collar of her robes and covering her empty eye-socket while Cause continued. “To track our vampiric allies!” The two paused briefly, then stared at another before speaking in unison. “We should check on that!”</p><p> </p><p>Will flatly regarded the two witches. “Yes.” She paused, perhaps awkwardly. “That was what We came here to ask about.”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Effect fixed her upside-down self, came to her feet alongside Cause, and began to focus all of her magic and mind onto the sight of her wayward eye. A projection, like a plasma screen, fizzled and shimmered on Effects’ palms, and was held up for the other two to see:</p><p> </p><p>From the eye’s perspective, Castle Bathory was over the sea that filled the English Channel, approaching the Isle of Luna Nova fast, showing no signs of stopping. Cause giddily clapped in a ploy to make things seem normal to Will; not that the stoic Fate Witch cared for their asinine qualms. “Death travels on swift wings indeed, Will! They will arrive within,” Effect completed. “Less than a day's time! Then our vengeance will be made manifest!”</p><p> </p><p>Will hummed, cracking each of her knuckles methodically and slow like. She sized up the quite distant but approaching island and dug through the heavily buried and mostly forgotten reservoirs of her memory; the well had almost dried, but Will recalled a few scant details of that place, of her time among the betrayers, and of friendships once thought sincere. “Our estimations hold true then. By morning, night shall fall again for Luna Nova.” Will’s heart, typically still and beating just enough to maintain life in the body of her host, quickened its pace. </p><p> </p><p>Effect meanwhile called back the eye, let go of her spell, and was soon greeted by a floating yellow orb with four tentacle-tendril-like flagella speeding along through the air. That thing, her eye, then shunted back into the empty socket while Effect pressed it properly into place, grunting and struggling all the while. “We shan’t ever get used to that….” Effect complained. </p><p> </p><p>Cause then spoke to Will directly. “With the time drawing near, w-what would you have us do, Bearer of the Mantle?” </p><p> </p><p>Will hesitated to respond; her mind was elsewhere. She thought of meadows, green and gold. She thought of two women in the field; she was one of them. She thought of gifts that were exchanged…. What were those gifts? Then her mind crushed those images, that yearning and burning. It was rare that she faltered in her hate for even a moment, but when those moments occured Will was quick to  squash any feelings of sentimentality. “Prepare yourselves. Do whatever you feel you must. You are not children, yes?” Will regarded both Cause and Effect who shook their heads. “Then you shouldn’t require Our direction. When the battle begins: Wreak havoc as you see fit, but do not violate The Pact. Rally to Us at Our orders and Our orders only. Follow the Bathorys’ requests and demands only if they serve our objectives well, and make that abundantly clear.”</p><p> </p><p>Cause and Effect both bowed over and over again; a sort of profuse nodding and sign of subservience. “As you command, Will!” They both intoned nervously as they still lacked calmness in the wake of their mind-meld. Will accepted their agreements and departed then, just as suddenly as she arrived. The twins were left alone again, breathing heavily and exhausted mentally. </p><p> </p><p>It was Cause who broke up their heaving and huffing. “So…. Are our bets final? Do we have a deal?” </p><p> </p><p>Effect nodded slowly. “It would seem we so….”</p><p> </p><p>The two stared at one another for a long time. Time passed and became fickle to measure. And then, suddenly, the two hatefully sucked in air and spun about. They departed in a furious whirlwind headed in opposite directions. Only time apart would allow them to function together come the morrow. Then, when they would meet again, they would have forgotten it all; the remains of a sisterhood frayed, buried beneath dirt and grime, to be exhumed once again in a future time.</p><p> </p>
<hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Night fell over the imprisoned Luna Nova once again. The shadows cast by the light of the moon of the statuettes to The Nine stretched from one end of the Headmistress’ office to the other. Amidst those nine looming shadows, a clandestine meeting was held. Holbrooke, Finnelan, Ibrahim, and the rest of the senior teaching staff were in attendance, their faces weary and drooping; sleep evaded them.</p><p> </p><p>“And you’re certain that this is wise, Mr. Berrada?” Finnelan managed to keep herself looking awake through sheer stubbornness and years of strict self discipline. </p><p> </p><p>“Wise? No. Necessary? Absolutely.” Ibrahim was at the head of the desk typically reserved for the headmistress. Before those present, he’d laid out a vast map uncovered from the archives. It was incorrigible, inscrutable, and massive. “The upper levels of the Sanctum are simple enough to traverse and navigate with this. We shouldn’t need to fear for undo casualties venturing on that level. It’s the lower portions where things become… strange.” His right hand guided from the apex of the mountainous labyrinth displayed on the parchment. His finger circled the area he spoke of, tapping it twice for emphasis. </p><p> </p><p>Pisces, sat on a stool nearby, glubbed something in query. Holbrooke replied. “That is where my fears lay as well, Professor. Ibrahim, I understand we face ever more desperate times with equally desperate measures, but just this morning the Sanctum proved to be far more dangerous than even the legends suggested.” </p><p> </p><p>Nelson, emotionally drained from earlier, but resolute in her attention to business, added. “We’re lucky any of them got out of there. And not for nothing, but from what we know it doesn't seem like The Nine are exactly all that accommodating to visitors.” The staff was of course informed of Amanda’s, Hannah’s, Barbara’s, and Constanze’s reports prior to the meeting. A small wave of agreement and disagreement rolled over the crowd, but it dispersed naturally. </p><p> </p><p>“I must admit, my faith in The Nine has come into question since that event.” Ibrahim, like many Antiquarians, revered The Nine Olde Witches as pseudo-religious figures. They were not gods, nor saints, but wise women and persons to follow; cultural heroes, titans of the archetype. “They have always been mysterious, but what those witches experienced seemed downright torturous, not to mention life threatening. And if even one of The Nine truly did speak to them, they must know of the crisis we face…. This is not the time to ‘test’ the next generation.” Ibrahim shook his head.</p><p> </p><p>Finnelan raised one brow with her chin held up high. “And you still think it best for us to evacuate the students to the Sanctum should an attack occur?” Finnelan withheld her gut feeling to argue in favor of The Nine; she never had nor likely would question their ways. </p><p> </p><p>Holbrooke spoke in Ibrahim’s place. “We are sadly left with few options, Finnelan. The Cafeteria is far too open, the potions cellar too cramped, the roof unusable for such a gathering….” The crowd offered some other suggestions, but they all had too glaring of flaws to be permissible. “The Sanctum offers us the best protections. It is secure and deep underground, sturdy, and secret.” </p><p> </p><p>Ibrahim added. “Secret assuming they do not already know about it.” He spoke of The Fates.</p><p> </p><p>Babcock cleared her throat. “They’ve infiltrated the academy before, they could have stolen the buildings architectural plans.” She stepped closer, as to be heard. “A-And, while the Mana-Lock would hold against any normal witch, I think we can all agree that those monsters aren’t normal!” </p><p> </p><p>Holbrooke adjusted her posture against the cane that kept her on her feet. She tapped it once to the floor. “I believe there are ways that I could alleviate some of our fears. I believe it’s time I spoke to a certain professor.” Whispered rumors and concerned eyes drifted along the room. “If there is anyone who would be able to ensure the Sanctum is safe for us, it is her.”</p><p> </p><p>Ibrahim pinched his chin at that assertion. He had seen what took Hannah and Barbara away, and from what he knew of the spirit of Woodward that resided below Luna Nova, he had his suspicions. They were wholly unfounded, but he could not shake the looming feeling that—”Tch!” He paused, having bit his lip a bit too hard. “While I won’t argue against it, what about The Sorcerer’s stone? Could it do us any good here?” His mind shifted back to the immediate discussion.</p><p> </p><p>Nelson shrugged. “It’s kinda just a shiny bauble now that magic’s back. I mean, sure, it’s powerful as all hell but no one at the academy can really harness it.” </p><p> </p><p>Lukic intervened with a hoarse grumble. “You’d do well to study the academy’s most ancient sections, Nelson. The Sorcerer’s stone has always been for more than just supplying magic to the academy; it’s our last line of defence.” Lukic, notably, was older than Holbrooke, but had never aspired for her position; she held secrets of the school that only the foundational stones could know. She continued, eyes upon her. “There is no hyperbole to my words, to utilize this method assuredly will damage the stone beyond repair…. Should we utilize it as such, it may yet function, if we’re lucky, but never as it did before.” </p><p> </p><p>Holbrooke smiled softly. “The old must end at some point, Lukic. If it could save the lives of countless young witches, I’m certain that even The Nine would choose to risk sacrificing it.”</p><p> </p><p>Lukic cackled slowly in a nod. “They would have it no other way.” Once settled, she explained further. “But we will require one or more witches to activate it. It would be a sacrifice in and of itself, as the witches doing so would be trapped outside with whatever horrors have been sent our way. They would need to be very brave indeed to volunteer.”</p><p> </p><p>Ibrahim didn’t miss a beat. “Then I’ll be among them. How many are required to complete the ritual?” The other staff present objected, citing Ibrahim’s presence as necessary, but they were silenced by Finnelan. </p><p> </p><p>“Enough!” They fell silent, cowed by Finnelans harsh tone and piercing eyes. “Ibrahim has a right to his own choices. Respect it as he respects yours.”</p><p> </p><p>Holbrooke sighed. “If I felt I could still ride a broom steadily, I’d go. It’s not the end I’d want, but I’ve lived well and wouldn’t mind dying well either.” </p><p> </p><p>Lukic nodded with a hum. “Agreed. But to answer your question, Ibrahim, only one witch is strictly required…. But we may want to send more to ensure the ritual is complete.” This earned more retorts from those present, especially Ibrahim. </p><p> </p><p>“No. No, that won’t be necessary.” He waved his hands in dismissal. “I can handle it myself. I’ll have my brothers and sisters at my back, certainly. But you, you all are professors, not mages.” the ‘official’ term for witches who primarily battled with their magic. “You have much more to give to the students after this is all over.” </p><p> </p><p>Finnelan chided. “Duty and honor won’t save lives, Ibrahim.” </p><p> </p><p>“It won’t.” Ibrahim smiled coyly. “But it most certainly inspires, doesn’t it?” Finnelan couldn’t argue with that optimism. </p><p> </p><p>“You don’t expect to fall then?” Lukic cocked her head. </p><p> </p><p>Pisces glubbed and glabbed something in a ‘sad’ way, however that sounded. Ibrahim replied. “I won’t make any promises…. Well, I’ll make one. We’ll get the defences up and running if it costs us everything. I’ll make sure to leave a majority of my Coven with you all; they’ll help protect the students and help evacuate them to the sanctum.” He folded his arms, chuckling now. “And I’ll make another promise. If we live, we’ll bring the wine.” The insinuation of a “we lived!” party earned a few morbid laughs; at least he brightened the dour mood. </p><p> </p><p>Holbrooke was among the laughing professors, and she shuffled over to Ibrahim to gently pat him on the hip; she was tiny, it was hard to reach much else easily. “Nine be with you, Ibrahim. You have all of Luna Nova in your debt.” The shadows of the hats morphed then, swirling into silhouettes of the Nine Olde Witches, stretching along the floor and wall. They had no expressions, but their shapes were unmistakable. They bowed and curtsied all toward Ibrahim. Then, they dispersed back into the simple shapes of the hats. </p><p> </p><p>He returned the curtsy to the shadows and bowed to each of the professors present. “It’s been a pleasure, as rough as things have been. Take care of yourselves, and live well.” He started for the door. “Send for me once you have the ritual scrolls ready. We’ll need them of course.” He said to Lukic on the way out. Just as he reached the door, a loud “glub” had him turning. Pisces gave a fishy salute and removed her hat. Ibrahim chuckled, returned the gesture, and left the room. </p><p> </p><p>Once alone, Ibrahim exhaled heavily. He spoke a sort of prayer or call for protection on behalf of Ishtar, Second of Nine; commonly said by Antiquarians before dangerous missions. <em> “Shadows keep me well; dark times are abound.”  </em></p><p> </p>
<hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1CPWLCGBFfusAU7xgNfkeN0-F6jkXXZBps3dYZ1Qd90Q/edit?usp=sharing"> STILL YOU LINGER AT THE EDGE BEYOND AFFECT; </a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1CPWLCGBFfusAU7xgNfkeN0-F6jkXXZBps3dYZ1Qd90Q/edit?usp=sharing"> DID I NOT TELL YE OF THE THREAT YOUR EYES POSE? </a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1CPWLCGBFfusAU7xgNfkeN0-F6jkXXZBps3dYZ1Qd90Q/edit?usp=sharing"> IGNORE MY PORTENTS AT YOUR PERIL; </a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1CPWLCGBFfusAU7xgNfkeN0-F6jkXXZBps3dYZ1Qd90Q/edit?usp=sharing"> INNOCENCE DIES AT THE FEET OF THE IGNORANT </a>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/>
<hr/>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Through The Storm, We Will Find A Way</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The battle for Luna Nova has come, and I'm excited to be feeling good about how this chapter came out. With my first attempt at heavier combat scenes (IE, more focus on actions in sections) I felt pretty good, but I feel much better about these ones and hope that feeling of mine accurately reflects the quality!</p><p>The next chapter will pick up where this one left off, but there will be a brief skip to when everyone has assembled in the sanctum!  </p><p>Again, I hope you guys are enjoying this fic a lot and I'm really grateful to be able to provide y'all with good content. </p><p>You know the drill with my tumblr: Here's the link! https://karmotrinedreams91.tumblr.com/</p><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Twelve hours; after twelve hours of whittling and fine tuning it was finally complete… for a test run. Constanze was sat out on the dew covered ground within the forests surrounding Luna Nova with her Entrapment Excavator Mark one, complete with all of its functions and necessary bits. It was laid in front of her beside a backpack brimming with tools and equipment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Close by, friends had gathered for protection; Sucy, Amanda, and Akko had all come out in these early pre-sunrise hours to ensure Constanze could test the fruits of her labor. It was around four AM, and the whole island seemed to be dead silent with murky grey clouds looming overhead, illuminated barely by the soon to be rising sun. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko was at the very edge of where the dome met the earth, blasting away all sorts of spells in a fit of frustration and anxiety. “Murowa, murowa, murowa!” Each spell fizzled upon meeting the barrier and the magical residue that was left traveled out like vapors or sparked against something, causing a seemingly random reaction. Akko eventually came to a tired halt, bent over and wanting for air. She’d come out here for a distraction from her most recent revelation; Chariot was in grave danger. Akko had of course known that they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> in danger ever since the dome had ensnared them, but this was different, somehow. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Chariot</span>
  </em>
  <span> after all; Akko had become especially defensive of her mentor ever since she lost most of her magic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chariot had confirmed she must have known things in advance, and she made it clear that she did not see Luna Nova going free without further strife or conflict. If she was certain of that, and based on Diana’s denials on Chariot being permitted to die, Akko knew in her gut that something was out to kill Chariot. Akko held out hope though, as always, that things would work out in the end. It’s all Akko could do since Diana had not awoken since she passed out last night. Maybe Diana knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> how to fix this. Maybe Diana was overreacting; Akko knew Diana wasn’t the perfectly calm and stoic woman she tried or claimed to be much of the time. Or perhaps Chariot, if she had foreseen her death, had seen things incorrectly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still, it didn’t explain why Chariot couldn’t say anything, and Diana was the only one who could pass that information on to Akko. In the meantime, idleness could do nothing but worry her further, so she volunteered to help with Constanze then and there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The layers to Akko’s frustration were dense and heavy indeed, weighing upon her very words. “Guhhh…. Why doesn’t anything work?” She pouted, having wanted at least some form of base stress relief from that exercise in futility.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Told you it wouldn’t be that easy.” Sucy rubbed her nose while sneering with that typical uninterested expression she always had at the unchanging and shimmering dome. “Save your breath. We came out here to protect Constanze, and I don’t see how you can do that when you can barely stand.” While Sucy wasn’t showing any excitement or concern of the situation she was full of dual tensions. She had the utmost confidence in Constanze’s machines; if anything would get them out now, it was Constanze’s witch-ginuity. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>However, that trust could not undercut or numb the looming dread she felt in this particular moment. Something was sending up all the red flags in her mind that danger was afoot, and while appearing distant as usual, Sucy was listening very carefully to even the subtlest of changes in the forest soundscape. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko rolled her head upward. “I just wish I could blow off some steam! I feel like I’m about to explode here, Sucy.” An exaggerated sigh and sway of her body had Akko leaning up beside the tree next to Sucy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Incidentally, that tree was the one Amanda was sitting in, grumpily. “You and me both Akko.” She spat out to the side, her face frozen with bitterness. “This shit needs to be done with, and fast.” During their whole time out there, Amanda had been brooding. Three damnable words had shaken her over this past week, enough to have her seriously questioning herself. Amanda </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> let herself get down like that! That was the lie she told herself at least. She’d thought so much on it though that even brooding had become a chore for her. “We’ve been out here for like twenty minutes. Conz, how’s it coming along?” Amanda asked impatiently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze dismissed Amanda with a wave as she went over her final calibrations and checks. The first moment of truth came with Constanze flicking a switch; the drill spun slowly at first and clattered, but a very scientific slap upside the chassis had everything working properly. The mithril tip was a blur in it’s spinning speed and that had Constanze smiling for once. She then gave a thumbs up to Amanda. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“All systems go.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She thought to herself, and communicated through her gesture. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bout time.” Amanda hopped down, stuffed her hands in her jacket, and shook her head clear of that malaise. “Let’s get this test over with. I wanna get out of here already.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze lugged the heavy drill forward through strength of her own body and determination. “Akko. Amanda.” She nodded them closer through a grunt or two; the thing was still quite heavy. They’d need to hold the thing up and keep it steady while Constanze aligned it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the two obliged their aid and brought the drill forward, Akko noticed something the others had overlooked. “Hey guy… isn’t this where, you know, this all started?” She was unsure whether to feel more or less uneasy over that observation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy, while following the group, took careful note of the clearing. The damaged trees, the faint signs of bone chips and hastily dug graves for the monsters. “You might be right….” Sucy raised a brow, surprised at Akko’s astute findings. The dead give away came at the sight of the Reality Ward; it was damaged. Where the dome was clear and translucent throughout, the otherwise placid surface was cracked here, like a near shattered pane of glass. Their efforts that night had not been in vain. “Constanze, there!” Sucy pointed it out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The group came to a halt and followed where Sucy had led them; the discovery had Constanze surge with confidence. “Here. We’ll drill here.” She pushed forward then, and Akko was given a second wind, her efforts redoubled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda meanwhile still felt herself semi-distracted by internal woes. She acknowledged the wound in the dome, but even if they were all suddenly released this very instant, if everyone was saved, and those eld witches never showed their wretched faces again, Amanda would not be satisfied. Constanze needed vengeance to know peace; Amanda needed something as well. She’d been closer to death more than ever before, several times now in the course of one week; these days would mark her memory forever, they were unforgettable. It all felt like a turning point, and even after feeling that fire within her go cold, she could never shake the feeling that it was just waiting to burst to the surface at any moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Seek glory and burn brightly!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The words of Jehanne De Aquittaine now haunted her as well, or at least they stuck with her. Amanda did not fear the flame as she feared her own unchanging self, but she did not understand it, less so than her own personal plights. Was it a responsibility, a curse, a boon, all three? It was anyone's guess, and Amanda wasn’t in a guessing mood. She was in the mood for a bar crawl that left her forgetting who she was; up to her waist in pints. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Nine Olde Witches go and eat your heart out. I ain’t fuckin’ around with whatever the hell it is you stuck me with.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She couldn’t imagine herself capable of living up to that expectation; she’d fallen short of all other expectations handed to her, of course. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Just focus on getting out of here, helping out Constanze, and then maybe all of this will blow over.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Amanda told herself while knowing very well that her problems would never just “blow over;” they were here to stay until she dealt with them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Amanda.” Constanze verbally jabbed Amanda, bringing her down from her half-daydreaming state. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eh?” Amanda blinked, resteadying her grip on the drill. “What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright?” The obvious full statement was: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you alright?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> but Constanze had naturally abbreviated it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. It’s nothing. Like I said.” Amanda reassured disingenuously; Constanze and Sucy could see right through it, even Akko. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ve all got a lot on our minds, O’Neill.” Sucy turned her head slightly to regard Amanda. “And while you’ll never hear me tell you to keep your business to yourself if you need to talk about it—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well I don’t.” Amanda insisted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy shook her head, disregarding the statement and continuing. “But right now let’s just table all of our problems. We can get all gross and mushy if we get out of here.” Sucy, ever the pessimist, spoke of possibilities rather than assurities. She had great belief and trust in Constanze, but she held none of that for the universe itself; fate itself stood against them, just as Sucy believed it to always stand against her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll get through this Amanda! And then everything’s going to work out. I’ll make sure of that!” Akko said through one last heave as she brought her part of the drill into place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda rolled her eyes drolly. “How you gonna do that?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko’s cheeks puffed up slightly as her face hardened with perseverance. How she was going to know about or fix any of Amanda’s internal issues of course didn’t matter; Akko was just going to “do” it, somehow. “Because I’m Atsuko Kagari, and I’m here to make the whole damn world smile!” It felt all too dramatic and rehearsed of a statement, but no, it was just Akko’s way of being. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda wiped her brow and looked down; she would never win out against Akko’s optimism, even when Akko herself was wracked with fear. Amanda missed a time when she could confidently exclaim her name and say what she would do; it was always kinda cheesy and prideful, but she never felt more validated than when she could say her own name and feel fulfilled in the woman she’d become. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“My name’s Amanda-Freakin-O’Neill, and I’m here to get casting, get blasted, and ride or die like there’s no tomorrow!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was horribly embarrassing to imagine herself saying those words in public, especially now that she was older, but tangents like that psyched Amanda up like nothing else. Now, they just made her feel like an ass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze, amidst the conversations, had brought the drill tip to align perfectly with the very center of the crack in the dome; now came the second moment of truth. “Look away.” She advised sternly while bringing her welding mask down over her face. Amanda and Akko followed the orders well, but Sucy, while stepped away from the drill itself, seemed transfixed in though; she was looking at the sky queerly. Constanze paid no immediate mind to it, and instead refocused on the task at hand. A few switches were flipped, bringing the machine to life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The trio’s arms steadied as the drill inched toward the domes edge; everyone held their breath until steady contact was made, the drill bit itself began to grind against the dome, shooting off little magic sparks as it dug into the translucent surface. The sort of noise the thing was making was difficult to categorize. It wasn’t like metal grating on metal, or stone on metal, or nails on a chalkboard; the closest comparison any present could draw on was to a blender filled with sand and tiny rocks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda was initially caught off guard by the sudden shaking, but with a change in posture to a low squat, she brought her full focus and strength to bear. “Alright! It didn’t go through!” She shouted excitedly above the noise. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko gripped the machine tight, pushing her whole body against it to keep form in spite of the shaking chassis. “Come on! Come onnnn!” She urged. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze stuck her tongue out just a hair to the side of her lips, leaning in with what could only be called “inventor’s anticipation.” She pressed her form forward, leaning over the body of the machine to catch sight of any changes in the cracked-web-shapes on the magicked dome. No signs of breaking through could be heard; Constanze turned up the heat. The mithril drill flashed in the moonlight as it spun faster and faster! A blinding reaction flared from where the drill tip met the dome and it forced Amanda and Akko to shut their eyes and avert their gazes more diligently. Strangely though, it appeared ever more dark as the clouds above got darker; </span>
  <em>
    <span>much</span>
  </em>
  <span> darker.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clink!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The dome took on one more strand in its web of cracks; the drill was breaking through! Constanze had a death grip on the machine now. “Faster!” She commanded it in voice and in action, turning up the dial to the highest setting. The previously dull grinding had become a shrieking tornado, and more cracks formed as the seconds passed; they were getting out of here!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Guys.” Sucy stepped back from her position. She did not trust the sky. Something was coming.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Having not spoken loud enough, Sucy went ignored as Constanze pushed her creation further past it’s limits. “OI, OI! SLOW IT THE FUCK DOWN CONZ!” Amanda shouted as a bolt shot right over Amanda’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“IT’S FALLING APART!” Akko added, ducking as magical steam vented harshly from an opening; the drill was becoming more dangerous than dome! Constanze could only grunt in frustration at the protests. She was certain they just needed a minute more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That minute would never come. “GUYS!” Sucy shouted panickedly, and her voice could never go ignored by Constanze. Constanze turned, and as she did so, the machine began to truly fall apart. The flimsy plating burst open, supports and screws snapped, and the drill piece, while initially steady, began to gyrate in a circular motion, the tip being flung about wildly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Upon feeling the thing shudder like a dying car, Constanze shot her gaze back to the machine and ordered: “BACK UP!” Akko and Amanda didn’t need any more incentive, and they dove away after dropping the thing on a silent count of three. At the same time, Constanze pulled back and allowed the contraption to die out. All present, Sucy included, covered their faces and ducked for cover as the thing went up in flames in a final but weak explosion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wands and warding spells kept the worst of the shrapnel at bay, and once all had calmed, Sucy spoke. “Something’s wrong. We have to get back inside!” The orders seemed absurd at first, even as Sucy came scrambling to Constanze, shaking her friend and hopeful love interest to attention. Sucy’s expression was never to be doubted; when she emoted, whatever emotion was at play was to be disregarded at onces own peril. Still, as Constanze looked around and listened, she could identify nothing that threatened them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko and Amanda couldn’t either. “What gives Sucy!?” Amanda said as she furiously came to her feet, waving her wand in anger. “There’s nothing out here!” And Amanda was right, there wasn’t. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not yet.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko had meanwhile gone to the ruined drill machine and put out the flames with simple magicks. She sulked over the remains. “Is this it? Are we done for...?” She tried her best at pressing some of the parts back together, but dashed them on the dirt in a fit when nothing seemed to be working. “We didn’t even break through!” Her fingers dug into the dirt beneath her. This was inconceivable; this was supposed to work, it had too! How else would they save Chariot, or anyone for that matter?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy of course couldn’t worry about that right now, she saw something in the sky, and she still could sense it; an unnatural swirling in the clouds, shapes that couldn’t be just tricks of the light. “Akko! Get yourself together! Amanda, zip it!” Sucy worked to get Constanze up from the ground. “Come on, all of you. We have to get back. Something’s flying in over head!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as Constanze was about to ask what exactly that meant, she took off her mask and blinked wildly at the sudden flashing from above; lightning, but this was no storm, not a normal one at least. With the brief brightness allowed by the electric crackle, Constanze, and all present, could see the true scope of the threat that had descended upon Luna Nova:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> A massive metal ship, a great balloon encased in steel and iron, wrought and bound by dark magicks and malice, loomed overhead. A large network of catwalks and hanging steel bridges made up the lowest decks and connected to the superstructure above by ladders, ropes, and enchanted chains. Swarms of bats circled with fel intent, and greater chiropterous creatures joined them like gargoyles unleashed from their stony prisons. Other floating abomina could be spotted from successive lightning strikes: A dread wing of Sky serpents, murders of harpies, wayward many eyed orbs, and all sorts of winged and floating things accompanied the massive flying fortress; the sight spoke nothing of what terrestrially bound horrors lay within, nor was the majesty of Castle Bathory clearly known from where the four witches stood, as it was situated atop the balloon.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda’s mouth was hung open. “Holy shit….” Her words came slow and drainedly, what was one to do when suddenly faced by such overwhelming force. Akko and Constanze had no words; Amanda’s sentiment had accounted for both of them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy kept focus though. “Hey! Are we going to raise the alarm or what!? Come on!” She urged with a yank on Constanze’s right arm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-Wait!” Constanze retorted. Sucy allowed her to go free with a turn of the head, and from there she watched as Constanze ran past Amanda and Akko to scoop up the mithril drill head and tool pack. “Can’t lose this! Now run!” Just as she had gotten a hold of her things she was already slipping to turn right around and make a break for the academy; she even got a head start on Sucy who followed after. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda, after having regained her senses, yanked Akko along out of her own stupor, bringing her into a sprint. The four of them made it across the grounds in record time, skipping over tangles of roots, mole-holes, and disturbed dirt; every second lost to a stumble or skid could have been the one that mattered most. Upon reaching the door, Sucy did away with the spells that reinforced them for enough time to funnel Constanze, Akko, and Amanda inside, before slamming it shut and rearming the barrier. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everyone staggered or stumbled forward, wanting for air. Constanze was surprisingly the first to speak. “What… is that?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda shook her head wordlessly. “Maybe… it's… help?” Akko threw out the idea, as foolish as it was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy dashed those innocent hopes with her dagger like words. “Get yourselves together and get moving! Akko, Constanze, go to the east dorms. Get everyone awake and bring them to The Sanctum as quickly as possible!” Sucy had of course been informed of the evacuation procedure, as had the New Nine, but their direct role in it was an “as needed” one. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze and Akko, to their credit, managed to suck in enough air and suck up enough of the pain in their legs to continue their run. Akko ran with huge swings of her arms, no doubt helping to exhaust her further, even if she felt like it made her faster. Constanze fumbled with the drill bit in her sprint, eventually finding enough space in her backpack full of gear for it, before she began to run more earnestly. The two were off and away faster than could have been expected, and that left Sucy with Amanda. “Amanda, come with me! We’re headed for the west dorms!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda steadied her breath and gripped her fists tightly. She wasn’t about to allow herself to succumb to those naysaying voices or her own loathing when doom approached. “Let’s go!” She agreed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two witches shared a momentary gaze that felt longer for all the weight it carried. Their eyes were upon one another, grimly, fiercely, but resolutely above all else. Both had come to terms with an early grave in their own ways; Sucy by way of pessimistic acceptance, and Amanda through daring-do bravado, but they were terms nonetheless. In that moment of shared stares, Sucy and Amanda both came to accept that their morbid eventualities might now become deathly realities. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Survival was not guaranteed anymore, as if it ever was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then they were away, sounding the alarms with shouts and faerie-flares that screamed across the academy halls with blaring horns and trumpets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All too quickly however, Amanda found herself coming to a skidding halt in front of a window that displayed all of the eastern campus and had a clear sight of the New Moon tower. Even after having just begun to sound the alarms, Amanda could see five broom bound witches flying out and away from the academy. She had no idea of their reasons or identity; they looked like Antiquarians though. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“O’neill!” Sucy had screeched to a halt upon realizing Amanda had fallen behind. “What is it!?!”  She slithered on back to Amanda’s side as quickly as could be. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Was anyone supposed to leave the school if something like this happened?” Amanda pulled Sucy in by the shoulder and pointed out the reason for her question. “Look, look! Who the hell are they!?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s no time to find out; focus!” Sucy had a right mind to slap sense into Amanda, but she’d reserve that for if someone had become properly stunned again rather than just distracted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no, wait, what the hell! Why are people running off like that? There’s gotta be a reason.” Amanda focused her eyes on the flying quintet of witches as they sailed for the New Moon tower, aiming for its peak. Flashes of lightning gave shape to the swarms of bats they’d all seen earlier; some of the flocks had descended and were gunning right for the flight-bound witches. “They’re gonna get slaughtered out there!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy grabbed Amanda by both shoulders, forced her to turn, and spoke with absolute seriousness. “And that’s not our problem. They have their job, whatever it is, and we have ours.” Sucy shook Amanda once, teeth bared. “So get serious, and get moving!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It made complete and perfect sense; there was no way it could be misconstrued, and yet Amanda had never been as unsure as she was then. Every shred of logic was telling her to aid Sucy in raising the rest of the alarm; the more hands available the faster it would happen. The faster it would happen, the more likely everyone would be safe. But in spite of all that, Amanda saw those witches and knew deep in her heart, in her soul, that their mission, whatever it was, could make or break this defence, and her eyes could clearly see they were outnumbered and outgunned tenfold. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The smoldered embers crackled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda could see it; the fives valiant Antiquarians out on whatever duty, waylaid by whatever flying monsters and bats the attackers would send their way. Somehow, that would be the defeat that decided the battle before it even began. They needed help! They needed something! Anything!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The embers grew hot, the kindling sizzled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They needed </span>
  <em>
    <span>Amanda-Freakin-O’Neill.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can’t do Sucy!” Amanda shoved her friend away with as much care as could be afforded. “I’ve gotta get out there, but I’ll be back!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucy stumbled back, bewildered beyond all knowing, but knowing Amanda, perhaps she should have expected this. Her eyes, widened in astonishment, looked to the window to see the struggle begin with the quintet of witches. They’d be overwhelmed in minutes without aid. For a moment, in the flash of lightning that followed, Sucy could clearly make out one of the outriders: Ibrahim. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda started slowly, but she quickly picked up her pace and began to run in the direction of the P.E. field. Amanda needed a broom. “I’ll come back, Sucy! Promise!” She couldn’t explain it further. The feeling of importance their mission held, the burning in her chest, as faint as it was, or the absolutely illogical reasoning that had her moving as she did now. Her heart had superseded her mind, and Amanda could never put into words what that felt like. “Trust me!” Sucy had to, it was the only option. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sucy, having been frozen in place for that moment, thawed herself out with a yell. “Amanda!” Amanda turned, though her legs did not stop; she couldn’t make them. Sucy’s mouth hung open for a moment, but the words she’d initially meant for her friend escaped her. Instead, she whispered to herself words that Amanda had known were coming all along, even if she couldn’t have heard them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You never change...” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The portion Amanda could not have predicted went unheard, unrequited. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“And part of me hopes you never do.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The words struck at Amanda’s resolve with a doubled edged blade. They dug deep into the side of her that could no longer stand the perceived self-incompetence, but they also stoked the flames of her passion, the side of her that had a penchant for heroics. Amanda considered the words for a fleeting moment, but when she realized she still hadn’t stopped running, she knew which side won out on that debate; for now at least. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Seek glory and burn brightly yeah?  Is that what you want out of me?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda ranted internally to that voice, that flame, whatever it was that had stuck with her. She had denied that force twice now, but just as she told Nelson, the world has a way of forcing her to do all the right things the wrong way.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Then that’s what you’ll fuckin’ get!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A single flame, lonesome, but proud, illuminated her soul.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The preliminary stages of the siege were drawing near. Below deck, atop the highest of the catwalks, Nikolai and several other more respectable vampires had gathered. They oversaw the preparations of their stolen weapon and the assembling of pledged warriors. Each vampire present had intended to take part in the coming massacre while others not accounted remained aboard the ship; Nikolai was unsurprised to know Katalin was among that latter group. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The former group though, including Nikolai and his lordly comrades, was eager for battle, for blood! Many donned gear that was both aesthetically pleasing (presuming one is of royal tastes that are near five hundred years old now) and functionally protective; not impenetrable by any means, they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>lords and ladies</span>
  </em>
  <span> of immortality and power after all. What need have they for the brutalistic steel plate of their lesser soldiers? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai of course was always prepared for combat; nearly every piece of his attire, whether it was made for court or leisure, was functional in battle, and his sword never left his side. Many, now headless, servants knew he was never beyond violence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One such servant, who was in possession of his head, but who was not fortunate enough to be able adorn it on his stumpy neck, shambled over to offer a report. “Master Zrinski! We approach the gathering of the witches! Our spotters say it is merely below us!” The ship itself was looming above the dome by several hundred feet above it’s apex, and this became ever more clear as Nikolai raised a hand to signal the corpse crewmen below to part the clouds and shine spotlights down on their prey. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Finally.” Nikolai spoke with little joy. He had been waiting for this, looking forward to it even, but his soul, bound by twisted and archaic ideas of honour and morality, could not be certain of whether this is what he really wanted; truly needed. His loyalty was not in question. His direct opposition to witches in general was also not in question. Nikolai was, by all means, unopposed to taking this measure, but it would bring him no greater meaning or joy should this battle not challenge him. If witches, who nearly destroyed the Bathory clan and who stood as the ideological antithesis to what the old orders demanded, could offer no challenge, could show no conviction, could not stir his soul, then truly the world had fallen into a state of necrosis. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai could hardly even take pleasure in the irony, that he himself, a man who was deceased by all magical and medical accounts, and his similarly vampiric comrades would “revive” the world from that “rotting” state; where humanity fed upon itself pointlessly in a dizzying dichotomy of burgeoning luxury and pauperish squallar. Such was the duty of kings and queens, lords and ladies; to bring meaning to the carnage, to “civilize” the immoral.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai spoke again, having reconciled with those thoughts during a brief pause. “By a count, do we know the strength of the defenders?” He peered over the railings, leering. “Are… there defenders?” The grounds were clear; no regiments had assembled, no loose formations of witches, no guards at the obvious entrances or rooftop enemies. Nikolai knew war had changed over the centuries, but this seemed wrong, even if this was just an academy; witches were never to be underestimated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We have no direct count, your lordship. The Fates claim the witches have sealed themselves within the structure proper! We also lack any knowledge of interior defences.” The servant did not err in any of his words; Nikolai hated stuttering. But his tone was extremely hesitant; Nikolai hated unpreparedness more than stuttering. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a sneer that grew more disconcerting every moment, Nikolai turned about to address the servant. “We prosecute </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> war, and yet you tell me they have said nothing more of our prey?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That is correct your lordship!” The servant lowered his hand-held-head and bent his body forward in a deep bow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai, in stride, pushed past the servant, sending him nearly over the edge of the railing. Nikolai then spoke with absolute authority to the lesser lords that had been assembled beside him. “Ready all of our warriors. I shall leave nothing to chance. And prepare that cannon the wyrd sisters stole away with; we will have need of it if those wretched sorcerers are to be trusted.” The nobles in service to Bathory all nodded or spoke in agreement before they began to scatter and attend to their own soldiers, ensuring they would be roused to the fray. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In regard to the “cannon” then, Nikolai shot a glance that brought the fear of god's upon one of the haggard mortal servants. The necromancer slave cowered in their all encompassing black robes while shuffling along to the edges of the gangplanks. Through waves of the hands and the invocations of dark words of power, the corpse crew was quickened and made orderly. They all started for the upper most portion of the catwalks, many carrying large metal cylinders that pulsed with electrical and magical energies. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One noted group of forty ghouls had shouldered the payload: A singular, twenty foot long and five feet thick, thinly and spear-tip shaped missile. It bore no explosive power, nor was it arcanely infused; it’s destructive power would come from the weapon it would be fired from. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slowly, creakily, a heavy steel platform was lowered from the guts of the ship. Atop it, a thick layer of black tarp and canvas covered the immense shape of the weapon. Where one would expect stillness from the black draping though, rustling and thrashing was disturbing the coverings at the presumed end of the barrel. A writhing tentacled shape tried to pry at the bolted down canvas, but it was beat back by the undead handlers with billhooks and cattle prods. The  cannon beneath snarled and gurgled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was once but a terrible, cold, and unthinking machine of mankinds’ wars. Now, a malignant and twisted sentience had been instilled in it, an object that could be used for one thing and one thing only: Destruction.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The result was an affront to life everywhere.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With the firing crews falling into ranks, Nikolai regarded the academy below one final time before he would take pause to rally the remainder of the minions and vampires. He knew not how this victory would bring his queen and clan the power they deserved; Nikolai knew only that they required “witches’ blood” and left the reasons to his better. All he wanted was for that power, that blood, to be won through a hard fought struggle.There was nothing worth gaining from a struggle if it would cost them nothing, Ludinghal had taught him that.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The air of that fateful morning, once clear and quiet, was dark and heavy. Winds and wings buffeted Ibrahim and his four chosen comrades in a furious storm. They’d gunned for the New Moon tower as quickly as things appeared off, but even with their quickest reactions, they were too slow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bats! Bats everywhere and encompassing everything! It was a maddened cloud of the things, and they weren’t like any normal ones, not any Ibrahim had known, or any of the other Antiquarians. They were massive, each with a ten foot wingspan, small bodied, but fanged almost as viciously as the dark masters who employed them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim and his comrades were fighting for their lives, for the lives of all in Luna Nova. If their plan fails, the academy was wide open to a direct assault. That </span>
  <em>
    <span>could not</span>
  </em>
  <span> happen, not while Ibrahim and his comrades still drew breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That said, Ibrahim was no dogfighter; none of the Antiquarians present were. His coven had focused much of its tactics and combat doctrine on misdirection and capturing enemies; illusions, mirages, and scare tactics were meant to end a fight before it began in earnest, or to force enemies to act hastily and be caught off guard. Broom bound combat in general was a rather archaic art in the modern age, practiced mostly by athletes and some collections of covens and cultural groups. On top of that, their enemy was far more nimble in the sky than any average broom riding witch, and they were so numerous as to be near uncountable. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blades were desperately swung in fits of pain, spells were shot wildly into the ever shifting mass of chiroptera, incinerating or bewitching only one or two at a time. There was no space nor ability to complete more complex incantations to make greater blasts or effect multiple targets, the swarming tactics of the vampiric bats had them clawing and cutting at each of the five brave witches incessantly. If they would not bleed out, they would be thrown from their brooms by the natural panic and flailing of their limbs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim himself could hardly even swing his pike staff, the cloud of the creatures was just too thick! With every swat he may have wounded or stunned one, but killing them was difficult given their flighty nature and quick speed. He’d downed eight, no, twelve, no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“We don’t have time for this!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> His mind clarified amidst the chaotic altercation. He knew that well though, this distraction, no matter how minor, could be enough to doom them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another surge from the bats had Ibrahim covering his face with raised arms. He screamed in pain and pushed as many away as he could with an arcane bubble, but wherever Ibrahim shunted them away, the bats would simply attack from another angle. Ibrahim could feel he was losing control of the broom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Through the storm of wings and fangs, the bleakness of the situation, Ibrahim saw a small light appear from below. It was small at first, but it was drawing closer. It was flying straight for him! Instinctively, Ibrahim sought to dodge, but when the sound of Amanda’s battle cry rang out over the screeching of the bats, he knew that it was no magic missile, but an ally!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda and her broom were a bat-seeking missile, surrounded by fire and propelled by a righteous fury. She shot up just a foot from Ibrahim’s broom, dispersing the cloud of bats that surrounded him with her speed, sending the flying things tumbling and fluttering incoherently. From her higher position in the air, still using her momentum, Amanda made a vertical U-turn, now careening downward, her body held tight to the broom. With an outstretched hand, her wand shot out indiscriminate gouts of flame; she’d burn the whole sky of those wicked things if she had to! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The attack was extremely effective as bats were burned away by the dozens!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Ibrahim, now freed, was able to add his strength to Amanda’s counter attack. He turned to the side Amanda had not fired upon and, through nimbled spearwork, cut down six of the bats in elegantly deadly spinning strokes. With the amber-gem tipped end, Ibrahim jutted his staff out and emitted a massive wave of force that shattered the remaining beasts, stunning them, and sending them into a freefall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda came up from another U-turn curve and managed to halt her speed near Ibrahim’s level. The two shared knowing stares; Amanda had already accepted she’d get hell for this later, and Ibrahim knew he’d owe her one for this some other time. There were four other Antiquarians to save however, so a moment's time is all they allotted to their acknowledgments. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their efforts and powers combined, Ibrahim and Amanda made to relieve their allies. They darted off together for the nearest Antiquarian: Amanda used her greater skill as a flier to pull off daring aerial dodges and loops through the clouds of bats while precisely blasting flame jets or explosions from her hands. Ibrahim, at the same time, used his more defensively minded repertoire of spells to change the flow of the wind itself; to Amanda’s aid and the bats’ despair. One by one, the four witches were freed, and with each freed, the fight became easier. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was no reprieve to be had though, for when the fourth had been given space to breath, Ibrahim whistled and signaled with hand gestures to follow him toward the New Moon tower. Each witch came in turn, but Amanda made sure to keep pace with Ibrahim. “Question! What the fuck are you guys doing out here!?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Activating the olde defences! We need to get to the Sorcerer's Stone!” Ibrahim explained. “This is likely a one way trip, O’Neill! We appreciate the assist, but—” A horrible hissing and screaming cut their mid-flight speech short.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The group was within reach of the spire-platform that held the Sorcerer’s Stone, but a vanguard of more winged terrors blocked their way; Were-Bats, large half man half bat like aberrations, brought into a bloodthirsty fury by some sort of all consuming madness, and fel-bats, like the ones from prior, spurred by their vampiric masters, stood between the witches and their stone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Where the fel-bats were of concerning but manageable size, the were-bats were hulking things of muscle and teeth, sporting ridges of red or black hair that formed a mohawk stretching from the bridge of their snubbed-noses down to the ends of their spines. The were otherwise covered in grey fur that concealed the pallid, leathery flesh beneath. Fangs worthy of a saber tooth stuck out from the were-bats massively over-bitten jaws and their claws were nothing to sneeze at either.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda didn’t need any more explanation on what to do in the face of such enemies. One way trip or not, Amanda was here to put the boot to whatever threatened the ones she loved; damn the expense that had on her body! She’d fight till her body was dry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“At the ready!” Ibrahim shouted back. There was no avoiding these things, they’d need to go through them. Wands and weapons were again brought to bare, but without the element of surprise, the Antiquarians found themselves on a much more even playing field. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The strategy was clear, each of the witches had to stay nimble and not get overwhelmed. If they were swarmed they’d be rendered immobile and out of control. Pre-empting warding spells were cast alongside elemental bolts and faerie hexes; the Antiquarians would win this fight on overwhelming firepower before the melee began in earnest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two groups were charging straight for each other, and in the seconds between the clash, two of the five were-bats were downed. One had its wings frozen and chest speared by summoned spikes of earth. The other became bedazzled and confused by some misdirection of fae origin; it saw stars, viewed all around it as foes and friends at the same time, and flailed in a tizzy on its way down, taking many fel bats with it.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then came the clash, and despite their best efforts, one of the Antiquarians was removed from the battle near instantly. She was charged by one of the three remaining were-bats, tackled from her broom, bit at the neck by the thing as though it were a wolf killing a deer, and brought spiraling down to earth where it would make a bloody mess of her body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Injuries were exchanged on both sides as the other winged adversaries dashed themselves against the arcane shields. Ibrahim had been cut along the waist, but not deep enough to harry him. Amanda meanwhile felt her left shoulder had been nearly dislocated after one of the were-bats nearly grabbed it and pulled her off of her broom, and the other four Antiquarians suffered similar injuries.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> The witches clutched at their wounds and hurriedly channelled healing magicks as they came to now float atop their brooms within the gazebo-like platform at the peak of the New Moon tower. A few moments were taken as both sides collected themselves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Ibrahim counted their number one short, he silently cursed himself and whitened his knuckles in a grip on his broom. “Dismount! We’ll take them from the ground!” he ordered. Their advantage, excluding Amanda, was not in the air, and the Antiquarians, Ibrahim included, jumped from their brooms, landing dexterously and readying themselves again; the monsters would not give them a true break. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, as Amanda rolled her shoulder back into place with a pained yelp, she saw the were-bats and swarms come again! They descended in a swooping attack with their leathery wings outstretched and clawed feet clasping to carry them away. The Antiquarians formed a shield wall of aegis spells while stabbing and slashing at the legs of the beasts as they smashed against the barriers with unrestrained fury. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One were-bat in particular had taken to finish what it started with Amanda though, forcing her to dip below the platform in a hasty dive to avoid its swiping claws. A game of cat and mouse ensued with Amanda dodging up, down, left, and right, all while circling the new moon tower and slowly rising as she sought to link up with her allies. Amanda and the monster were dancing on air, with Amanda unfortunately being forced into an unending defense as the assailant pressed ever further on offence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her time came only when the were-bat overshot an attack after a careful dodge Amanda had executed that had her rolling off of the broom, with one hand attached, which she used to throw herself back up onto the would-be saddle from below. With the creature now recovering from it’s missed swipe, Amanda was able to level several murowa spells to further stagger it, leaving pockmarks on its flesh where the magic singed it. Once enough space had been made, Amanda inhaled deeply and focused, her wand held upright in front of her face. “Magaria…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The were-bat recovered then in between the words of the incantation. It shrieked its feral disgust and charged forth with all four claws splayed out to tackle Amanda with reckless abandon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tryphell!” Amanda conjured forth, with the completion of the spell, a magical blade of fire, solidified like it was drawn from the belly of a volcano. With it held in her wand wielding hand, the fires consuming her whole right arm, she used her free hand to blast her forward. “Typherious Phos!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two forces, throwing all weight into the strike, passed one another in the air; Amanda had veered hard to the left as she diagonally slashed her ensorceled arm down across the were-bats chest. The gaping wounds that split it wholly in two pieces were seared, charred black by the intensity of Amanda’s fire. It fell, cut in uneven halves, to the land below. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda rounded back toward the tower after her valiant charge, raising her flaming arm like a lance, holding it high as she shouted victoriously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With every courageous act, the flame within, lonesome and small, would grow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda’s eyes then fell on the scene at the New Moon tower: Ibrahim and company had successfully beaten back the were-bats. She looked on just in time to see Ibrahim himself deal the final blow to one of the monsters as it was held down by illusory weights. His pike staff ended its maddened existence with a clean stab to the forehead. Finally, in the shadows of the bat and monster filled skies, in the wake of the flying fortress, Amanda, Ibrahim, and the remaining three Antiquarians could catch their breaths. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda made her way back, the flaming lance that was her arm returned to normal, and landed atop the tower. She dismounted her broom with all haste and made to walk toward the bloodied group. “What’s the situation? I mean, besides the obvious!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One of the Antiquarians, a grim voiced and grey haired Venezualan man, held his heavily bleeding left arm as he spoke. “We lost Catherine….” The realization had pained all of the Antiquarians, but especially him by way of his despairing words. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim went to him, ignoring his own pain and wounds, and helped him to fully stand. “Isaac! Isaac, look at me. Look at me.” Ibrahim shared in Isaac’s pain, but he knew well that to be distracted at a time like this was a death sentence. “Stay with me, with us.” Isaac looked up and listened intently, face strained in regret. “She gave herself willingly. We all did when we flew out here. Hundreds of lives are counting on this working, so take a deep breath, and lets get this done, alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Isaac did as told, wiping his face once as he held his wand to his kneecap wound. What magicks he could muster allowed his wounds to clot at least, but he’d need surgery. “Aye… ahh!” He hissed in pain. “I’m fine. I’m fine….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim nodded firmly and then gestured for the group to follow. He addressed Amanda directly in doing so. “I have no idea why you think coming out here was wise, but your duty now is to keep watch while I enact the ritual. This should buy us at least two days' time, if it works.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If? If it works!?” Amanda, having holstered her wand in her belt, threw her arms out wide as she followed to the center of the platform. “We’re doing this all on a gamble!? For two days worth of time!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The three Antiquarians left the two their conversing as they took up posts, each of them instinctively acting illusory spells to render, from the outside, an image of the New Moon tower that had no persons atop it; their position would hopefully remain hidden. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim replied with a weary turn of the head and a half forced smile. “I thought you cowboy types took well to stacked odds like this?” Amanda couldn’t help but chuckle, her body deflating somewhat. Ibrahim continued. “And besides; two days will give everyone a chance to be moved deeper into the Sanctum. Luna Nova is an academy, not a fortress; but the labyrinth beneath…. Well, you saw it yourself. It’s impenetrable when you don’t know where to go.” It may have been a suicide mission, but the oppurtunities for success made it a nescessarry one. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda, otherwise without words, regarded Ibrahim with one last look of resigned contentment. “Alright then…. It’s been good fighting with you. I’ve got your back.” She gave a quick two fingered salute. “Now go get that ancient whatever-the-hell runnin’!” Her enthusiasm was wholly in spite of the death she felt was fast approaching. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim, reinvigorated by his vigilante comrade and, from his perspective at least, new friend, turned to face the Sorcerer’s Stone. His face turned dour and serious once more. From his robes he produced a satchel of nine charms, nine different flowers, and nine matches; the components for the ritual. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim laid them out in a perfect circle around the floating emerald-hued stone and looked upon each of the paired flowers and charms. Then, as lightning flashed once more, he looked to the descending fortress in the sky. “Do what you will…” Ibrahim began in a soft spoken voice to himself. “But this academy will live on.” His words of defiance, meant for the invaders, served to remind him too of why his life would be forfeit. There were young women, children, some no older than thirteen at the academy. They were no doubt afraid, powerless to defeat such monstrous enemies, and above all, innocent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were the witches of tomorrow, a continuation of teachings and legacies carried through nearly all of human history. The Antiquarians were dying here to preserve those irreplaceable lives and the unique knowledge that came with them; a worthy sacrifice, Ibrahim reasoned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim exhaled once, his soul hardened, and began to chant the words of power. “Witches of olde, Nine revered, hear me….” His staff was held up with both hands to touch the Sorcerer’s Stone with the amber gem.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Up high, all the while, the metal demon of destruction roared to life. Its current handlers had not realized just how abominable it was.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Around the Sorcerer's Stone the nine pairs of flowers and trinkets slowly began to rise; Ibrahims’ words of power gave life to the very air itself. The flowers twirled in the arcane wind, spinning faster and faster both in circles around the trinkets and with their petals, to the point of becoming blinding. “Know the plight of your successors: Of witches young and old, of secrets and sanctity threatened; this academy faces doom….” More arcane words broke up the more typically languaged incants from Ibrahim.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Plugs were stuck into fleshy veins so that electric power might flow through it’s horrible form. The cannon barrel itself was slowly lowered.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then came the matches; they were brought to ignite with different colored flames, a rainbow of small fires. Each was brought to set alight the petals of each flower that danced around its specific charm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Somewhere distant, an onlooker of the doomed academy, a witch in white, felt a sudden pain in her heart. She had not known that pain in a long time.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The dancing charms and flames then shot up to meet at the top of the Sorcerer’s Stone, joining together to make a magical light of ever changing color, like an extremely bright but very distant star. “By the powers of my soul, the will to see our world preserved, Nine Olde Witches, stone of sorcerers, deliver us!” Ibrahim’s words were concluded with him making a striking motion with his staff against the great stone of power. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Targets were acquired. The munitions were loaded with haste; a living crewman was offered in recompense to the horrid machine that it might cooperate further. Its ghastly assembly of mouths and beaks were well fed. The word need only be given.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A beam of the purest form of magic that anyone could have ever seen emitted from the stone, cutting through the darkness made by shadows of Castle Bathory. The whole campus was illuminated as the beam careened toward the academy. The beam itself was aimed at the highest tower on the academy building itself and met with the adorning spire atop its roof, once thought to be a decoration, it was in truth a receiver and beacon meant for this very power. From there, the emerald energies were dispersed out to form a great shield, a barrier of magicks knowable only to The Nine; it surrounded the whole of the Academy building, making it impenetrable to any attack The Nine could have conceived of. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Alas, none but the most twisted of minds, poisoned by an obsession and centuries of eldritch influence could have conceived the cannon that now beared down on Luna Nova. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With that, Ibrahim had completed the ritual. He let his staff fall back down to steady himself; his body had been drained heavily from the spell. His allies, Amanda included, quickly rushed to him for aid. “Have we done it?” Isaac asked with all the hope that his closest of friends did not die in vain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim, upon being helped up, caught his breath and smiled softly. “Yes….” His eyes fell peacefully upon the academy. “We have.” Amanda too smiled in that same peaceful way. Whatever came next didn’t matter. The five of them had saved countless—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Deep, </span>
  <em>
    <span>deep</span>
  </em>
  <span>, bellowing sirens, foghorns from sheol, nearly blew out their eardrums. The great flying fortress had descended low enough to be but inches from entering the dome. The four remaining witches on the New Moon tower all cringed and clasped their ears. The blaring sirens sounded off in fours, followed by pauses for five seconds. Upon the third round of blaring, the ship began to move forward, moving the lowest section of the balloon and the front-most section of catwalks into the dome erected by the Fate witches. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The witches all looked at the ship in dreadful anticipation, their enemies' strategy unknown. The most gruesome of sights struck Amanda first. She saw the cannon, that despicable thing, between the mess of catwalks and cables:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> It was a grotesque and inhumane thing. Nothing in the universe had committed such a heinous act that would warrant such a wretched thing to exist, and yet there it was. It was a mish mash of… everything; everything biologically possible, stitched and melded with the metal frame of what could only be described as a </span>
  <em>
    <span>rail gun.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The only portions that made sense to describe with ease was the barrel which was loosely coated in patches of skin and hide, and which ended in a massive beak that opened up to reveal another smaller beak which too contained an even smaller beak that held the opening of the barrel. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda nearly vomited just by the sight of it, and her sickness was only aided further by the surges of electricity that began to coalescence and spark along its entire frame. That’s when Ibrahim and the rest spotted it. Each of their reactions were similarly mortified, but Ibrahim had noticed that the weapon was preparing to fire. “They can’t think to….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A raised and flat palm held the firing crew in place. When that hand fell the signal to fire was received. Power surged in the mechanical monstrosity, coalescing into a ball of light during a dreadfully silent period of delay at the end of the barrel. Then, in the next instant, localized annihilation was delivered unto Luna Nova.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ears rang, witches were blown back, foundations shook, and the air trembled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hope faded with consciousness.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clouds of dust and shimmering shards had obscured all but the vague shape of Luna Nova far off in the distance. Will was able to finally release her hands from her chest; the pain faded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She gasped for air, coughed blood, pure red blood, down into the shaken forests below. The blast itself hadn’t yet reached Wills position, but it came a moment later and made nearly every tree groan and bend slightly from the force. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will floated backwards a few inches, pushed by the wind, but regained her composure with a hissing breath. She had not not felt anything quite like that earlier pain in nearly a millennium. Whatever it was that had caused it, Will knew it to be a reminder of her old self; her destroyed and forgotten self. Perhaps The Deceiver had sensed her presence and psychically lashed out as taunt. Regardless if that was true or not, Will could only care for what came next. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let this be...” Will began through partially grit and bloody teeth. “My release…. Let this be my revenge.” She spoke to The Deceiver, whom she could only presume was watching, listening. She expected it to come and find her; hoped it would seek her out, but her the object of her obsession and hatred never appeared. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will would assuredly relish the destruction of Luna Nova, for while the smoke settled, revealing the ancient defences defeated, she would watch every moment of it. What merely watching could not provide Will though was closure; true satisfaction. She could not sense The Deceiver, and so she assumed it was absent. “And so you’ve turned back on your own blind followers once again…?” Will’s sorrowful words were only answered by the wind: A winter gale through the sleeping forests. “I know not what pains me greater: Your betrayal of me, or your abandonment of them…?” Regret took hold, but was never permitted to gain purchase for long. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“They deserved this.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Will’s collective mind concluded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Victory may come that day, but peace would never be known until those two met again and settled things once and for all. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The whole of the lower decks had been covered by an emerald mist; the attack on Luna Nova’s ancient defences was successful, but none had known the true power that the cannon had, save for the Twins perhaps. Coughing fits and groaning from the swaying catwalks filled the soundscape as distant stone crumbled and fell away, accompanied by the crackling of glass as the remnants of the shield blew away in the wind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Only after a minute of strayed vision and disoriented shuffling did Nikolai manage to get a hold of his senses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Their defences prove weak, m'lord!” A nearby necromancer called from the decks below out to Nikolai, who had now returned to his position overlooking the lower decks with a whole throng of vampire knights, each adorned in the Bathory heraldry and identical armor. The necromancer in question was pointing down as the clouds dispersed, revealing a mostly in-tact Luna Nova, save for the western lecture halls which were nearly blown wholly away. The highest tower of the school had suffered greatly as well, its roof had collapsed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai, having covered his ears and averted his eyes from the blast, stood up to his full height slowly. He had known that the weapons of the modern age were destructive beyond anything the feudal lords of his time could have conceived, but to have only been fired once and still caused an explosion so powerful that it had shook the ship disquieted Nikolai’s unbeating heart. Nearly all the vampires present were in awe of such absolute destruction, and even they knew that this was but a small weapon compared to some wielded by mankind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get a hold of that thing!” One mortal servant cried from back near the cannon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It's gone mad!” Another called out before screaming in terror. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai turned and shoved past his gathered warriors to catch sight of the disturbing scene: The mutated and defiled rail gun had begun lashing out in a feral frenzy at the crew. “Gain control of it damn you! We cannot afford damage to the ship!” His claws clasped the railings hard as he saw zombie handlers get picked up by tendrils and mismatched hands and claws, only to be chucked aside or thrown into the various mouths the thing possessed. “Where are The Fates!? It is they who created this accursed thing!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is it not the most marvelous,” Cause inexplicably began from behind Nikolai, “Weapon you’ve seen?” Effect concluded, also behind Nikolai, but to his right rather than left. It was they who had procured the weapon from a naval vessel, but Effect was the only one to have cursed the universe with its aberrant powers and shape. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai spun about, his hand instinctively grabbing the hilt of his sword while surrounding knights lept back as well; the Twins seemingly appeared from thin air. As Nikolai spoke, his hand slowly pulled away from his sword. “Marvelous?! It may have done as you intended, but that </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> threatens to tear apart the ship! Reign in that abomination before we are forced to destroy it!” Nikolai had known they were given a “particularly unique” weapon in the event that Luna Nova raised the very defences that they had just shattered, but he was unaware of it’s true form, and most certainly was not pleased with its appetite for crewmen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Effect spoke for her own deeds as Cause acquiesced with a hand gesture to her twin. “Such hurtful words for such a </span>
  <em>
    <span>sweet</span>
  </em>
  <span> creature! You wound my pride and its innocent hearts.” Effect had forgotten just how many hearts were inside of that thing, but more than one was a correct enough estimate. She floated leisurely past the vampires and down to the lower decks where mortal servants, necromancers, and dark sorcerers scurried in fear while undead slaves offered weak resistance to the unending hunger for death that the machine held. “There, there!” Effect cooed and shushed lovingly on her approach. To everyone’s surprise, the beast did not strike her with any of its mutant limbs or appendages. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause chuckled. “She always was </span>
  <em>
    <span>wonderful</span>
  </em>
  <span> with animals….” She made this remark when Effect came close enough to stroke the fleshy hide of the machine, singing some sort of song to calm the creature, putting it back to sleep. Cause could remember a time even when Effect was fond not just of the eld and horrid fauna of the world, but the mundane and the gentlest of fawns, the tiniest of mice, the fluffiest of hare; neither twin could return to such innocent times.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai recoiled, disgusted beyond belief at the display of kindness to such a wretched being. “I care not for what you do with it, but see to it that you remove it as soon as able. Its purpose is served, and we have no need to sully our rule by using such detestable armaments!” He ordered Cause as he began to shove back to the front of the deck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause followed, chiding him. “Focus on serving your purpose and then perhaps we might negotiate such terms!” Though demanding herself, Cause said all of these things with a coy grin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos joined in, but had the decency to not appear from thin air; she rose from the decks below, hiding most of her face in her hood and speaking very deliberately. “And be quick about it! Their defences are… wide… open!” She struggled with some words. Internally, Chaos had been feeling something strange in the past day or so. The Child had not returned in full, but Chaos could feel her tugging on the strings that animated their shared body; what was happening was beyond both of them, but Chaos could not risk herself being misdirected as she had been several nights prior. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai closed his eyes, managing his frustration at The Fates’ incessantly annoying voices. “I’m quite aware of that.” After a slight exhale, he turned to regard his throng. “Our task and stratagem are simple, but the results will be absolute! We descend from the air, mounted, and will surround the complex! Lords Ivanovich, and Falkenstein shall lead half of our number to the northern side and force entry, while Lady Varaz and Lord Amboise take the southern end and do the same! I shall lead my guard through the breach made in the western front.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai then turned to Chaos as the surrounding vampire lords nodded and conversed quietly between their comrades. “And we will be joined, yes? By minions under your control?” He trusted such a notion not one bit, but without insurance for absolute victory he would be putting his honour and pride at too great a risk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everything the Bathorys had been plotting for relied on success this night; Elizabeth had assured Nikolai this. Nikolai was kept ignorant of the specifics of that reasoning though, and it grated him to no end; there was no questioning his queen however. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos twitched twice, her raising arms trembled lightly. “I-It is as you s-say!” Her tone compensated for the unease in her body; was the curse spreading already? She could not consider that possibility right now. Instead, Chaos redoubled her focus on the spells and magic that would see the monstrous legions assembled. Power swelled in her palms as they were held out to her sides like she was commanding a great orchestra to climax. The magicks, granted by way of the pact, tore open dozens of holes and rips in reality, making gateways to the dark prison where the assembled hordes had been held. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From that black prison, that space between starlight and nothing, came creatures, fae, fair, foul, and fel, from around the world. They were known in the legends, myths, and stories of modern, medieval, and ancient societies of mankind. Gorgons slithered alongside trundling trolls. Beady eyed orbs flew on bat-like wings in small flocks with thunderous rocs overhead. Stone golems and tormented elementals marked the earth with every groaning step. It was a near comprehensive collection of at least one of every magicked being on Earth, and almost every creature present had been stolen against its will. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos, after having called the swarms of monsters forth, crashed both of her hands together in a clap that seemed to steal all sound away from the world around them. For a brief instant, only heartbeats could be heard. Then came Chaos’ voice which muttered words of powerful enthrallment; the assembled masses would not fight willingly, they would be instilled with thoughts of murder and slaughter, thoughts some of the captured beings could never have known prior, their nature having been pure and kind. Each creature, in its own unique way, began to writhe and fight off the arcane control with every fiber of their beings. There was no release though, no escaping Chaos’ control; not until the deed of Luna Nova’s destruction was done. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As puppeteer, despite having total control over each of the things now affected by her spell, Chaos did not feel she had full control over herself. As she exercised her pact given powers, she could feel The Child press further, struggling to swim to the surface of whatever sea that had found herself in. The collective Chaos and The Original held enough strength, for now at least, to suppress her beneath the torrid waters. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With finality, Chaos balled her fists that surged with purple-hued energies, snuffing out the last of the nightmare legions’ free will. “It… is done.” She did not turn, but her words were clearly directed to Nikolai. “You have your armies, now g-go! Go and kill as you—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The killings will have to wait, Fate witch.” Of all the people to interrupt, Katalin was calling out from the lowest of balconies connected to the castle-structure proper, overlooking the group. She was flanked by two of Elizabeth Bathorys’ personal attendants. “We require that the witches be brought to us alive!” Katalin continued haughtily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Twins, Chaos, and even Nikolai were all flabbergasted by such a demand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos spoke first. “You d-d-dare!?  Do know asking are you what you!? Words of agreement! Final! FINAL!” Her rage jumbled her speech as she stomped the air below her floating form in a fit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then the Twins, “This is most certainly the,” Cause started, “Height of your lunacy! Effect continued, having flown in hurry back over to the group. Then they spoke in agitated unison. “You asked for blood and blood you shall have! But you agreed to kill them, not take them prisoner!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai couldn’t believe he found himself agreeing with any of the Fates. “Katalin!” He bellowed upward. “Your demands are foolish! We will have all the blood we could want for by merely slaughtering them, and the crones have already agreed to secede all plunder to our coffers! Such a condition jeopardizes the will of our queen!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin upturned her nose at the immediate objections. “Then perhaps you would do me the favor of speaking such words to her yourself, as she was the one who made such demands in the first place.” Her lies obfuscated her involvement. Katalin had whispered what incomplete knowledge and rumors she had of the effects that could be brought on by drinking the blood of witches from a living host to Elizabeth, and that intrigued the vampire queen greatly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai was taken aback. For what purpose or reason was unknown, but Katalin, ever the aspirant for positions not meant for her, must have been scheming for her own success. Nikolai knew that she took no action that did not otherwise benefit her. He was otherwise left wordless though; to speak against her now would be to speak against his tenants. Katalin was accompanied by attendants to the queen, and those very same attendants had direct authority to kill any who dared defy Elizabeth, so Katalains’ words must have been true. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos of course had many words to say. “Prisoners!? This was our bargain not! Traitor! Deceiver!” She had half a mind to turn her summoned legions on the vampires, but knew better; Will would have had her tormented for years if she did that without a direct order. “Do well would you to remember your place, parasite!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Twins were too about to begin their continued rants, but Will made her presence known with an ill wind blowing over the whole of the deck as she screamed in from the south. “Silence!” She came to a halt just behind Chaos, having nearly blown her erratic sister away. She had also hidden any sign of her prior pain; the illusion of her invincibility and all powerful nature was paramount. “You waste valuable seconds. Already you have given the witches below time to respond.” Will looked up, her eyes partly aflame with white hot energies. “And you…. Answer Us this. Your prisoners, will any survive?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin’s raised brows slowly lowered and her neutral expression of command slowly widened to a “welcoming” smile. She shook her head. “They will not, but our lady has need of them while they yet breathe.” Her whole posture shifted, and were the Fates normal humans, they would feel at ease and relaxed just by looking at her; the powers of vampiric beguilement were not as powerful as legends say, but they were to be feared all the same.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then it concerns Our sisters not.” Will regarded each of them in turn, ensuring each had accepted the words she had put in their mouths. When they gave their nods, begrudgingly, Will then nodded to Katalin. “Do as you will, vampire.” Then Will’s attention turned to Nikolai. “The same for you, but act quickly. We shall suffer this waiting no further.” With a slight motion of her fingers, Will subtly coaxed the Twins and Chaos to float to her side. “Now we are away. We shall be watching closely.” It was both a threat and sign of continued aid, but mostly a threat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai barked back. “I’ve heard enough! Be gone and leave me to my men. You’ll have your vengeance, as we have had ours.” Even if Nikolai himself felt unsatisfied with said “vengeance.” A horizontal swing of his left arm outward marked his dismissal of further chatter; he too tired of banter when there was death to deal. The fates then left, floating off in different directions to encircle the academy from all cardinal angles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, Nikolai could see to prosecuting this battle. He whistled, calling forth the dread-steeds, winged black and white horses, similar to pegasi, but made flighty not by way of natural evolution but interference of necromantic magic. Each horse had sunken eyes and leathery bat wings stitched on, and while each appeared lean and muscled like any well bred warhorse, this was only due to false life being given to the once majestic stock. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A horse for every warrior galloped through the air and stationed themselves beside the long metal gangplanks. As their steeds arrived, knight after knight ran forth and saddled their horses with impeccable efficiency and speed. Once Nikolai had found himself straddled atop his own dread-steed, he gave the call. “Ride to battle! Ride to ruin! Night has fallen, and with it we have risen!” His blade flashed in the gleam of searchlights emitted from the fortress; it was the only natural light permitted on the battlefield as the magical storms blotted out the sun above. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thus the knights echoed in their galloped descent: “NIGHT HAS FALLEN! NIGHT HAS FALLEN!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In tandem, the nightmare legions of monsters made their plodding advance on the academy. Luna Nova was surrounded, its witches left with nowhere to run.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko could taste wood and dust; it was the first thing she felt after… where was she again? Her eyes shot open like she’d realized she’d been hours late for some important meeting, but that wasn’t what she’d missed of course. Her vision was dizzy, but she saw golden and hazy shapes on top of her. The realization struck when the dull pain became clear on her legs and head. She was laid out flat under a fallen light fixture in the stairwell leading up to the fourth floor of the eastern dormitories. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But what caused that? She remembered herself and Constanze were sounding the alarm, and had already cleared out three floors worth of students. Then something happened; from the windows, Akko and Constanze stopped to witness an emerald light nearly blind them. Then it all shattered; a great quaking seized the academy and, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh my god, Constanze!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Akko’s mind caught up with the present as she struggled against the chandelier that had fallen onto her and Constanze along with some wooden struts from the ceiling rafters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They must have only been out for a minute at most, as nothing else seemed to have drastically changed, and Akko made this assumption just as she managed to shift the weight of the chandelier off of her body. She rolled over and clambered to her feet as she heard wood get thrown aside weakly; Constanze had awoken as well, coughing up dust as she freed herself from her own entanglement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Constanze!” Akko hurried to her friend, digging her out with all due haste and clumsiness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze coughed a few more times before muttering, “I heard you.” She beat her chest once to ensure her throat was cleared before she reached for her tool pack. “What happened?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I dunno! Earthquake!?” Akko huddled close to Constanze out of fear, but when no tremors came, Constanze pushed her away with a nudge of the shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Explosion.” Constanze logicked. “You saw it.” She referred to the ship as she methodically, albeit disorientedly assembled her caster blaster. The pumping and cranking of her weapon spoke louder than what words Constanze could offer: There was going to be trouble. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko, having gotten on her feet, helped Constanze up as she spoke. “Oh we’re really freakin’ screwed now then! We gotta go, go, go!” As she yelled, Akko nearly tripped over the same chandelier as she ran to head upstairs to the second to last floor of dorms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze, luckily, caught her mid stumble. “Watch it!” She tersely demanded. “We’ll get them out. Mind your step. Stay with me.” Each sentence was said in just enough of a rush to convey its imperative nature, but the calmness that Constanze exerted made them appear as statements when heard. She was of course not calm at all; her heart was threatening to burst! But Constanze knew she had to stay calm, buckle down, and scream about it later, hopefully when no one was watching. “Come on.” She spoke with finality as she pulled Akko by the hand up the stairs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wa-ah-aha! Alright! I can run on my own you know!” Akko pulled her hand away and kept pace with the hurrying Constanze. Constanze only grunted annoyedly in reply, her deadpan expression faltering as the infinite possibilities for danger ran through her mind; every macabre calculation that equated to the witches’ deaths had her growing ever more panicked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze couldn’t die here. She had a score to settle first.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Up the winding stairs they went, and thus began their routine again as full control over their senses returned after that nasty knockout. Doors were banged on, students ferried out, and magic alarms rung at piercing volume. The sight Akko hardly expected though was Diana shambling out of the blue team dorm room, still dressed as she was last night when she’d fainted, disoriented beyond belief, and wide eyed as a deer in headlights. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“D-DIANA!?” Akko had somewhat forgotten how the school was actually laid out, and hadn’t realized they were on </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> floor. She rushed to Diana and threw her arms around her in a great big hug, but Diana made clear she was not about to waste even a moment with reunions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana pushed her love back, and with as much fear and genuine panic Diana had ever shown, spoke. “Akko! What in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>bleeding hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> is going on!?” The slightest hint of her otherwise quashed Scottish accent bled through; it only ever did so at times when Diana had fully dropped her guard, or in this case, had it shattered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko fumbled for words, and by some miraculous butchering of human speech, seemed to start five sentences at once before Contsanze summed up the necessary details in seven words. “Under attack. Explosion. Evacuating. Comes with us.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Where Constanze’s explanation lacked nuance and substance, Diana filled in the gaps with her imagination. It was better than nothing. “A-Alright! Do we know what… is… attacking us!?” Her words were slurred as her ringing ears disturbed a clean train of thought. When Akko and Constanze just shook their heads in reply, Diana replied. “Ok… ok! Then I’ll follow your… lead!” She tried to clamber forth to the front of the two, betraying her words as the instinct to lead herself took over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Akko stopped her girlfriend with an arm around the shoulders. “Oh no! You must be hurt or something! I’ve gotta get you down to the sanctum myself!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Akko, I’m fine!’ Diana reassured, shaking her head furiously. “Everything hurts but I’m fine, just let me go!” Akko relented as she was pushed away again, her face wracked by guilt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry I didn’t… I had….” Akko tried to apologize for whatever mistake she could come up with, but Diana halted her speech with a finger to the lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana then felt Akko’s guilt empathically. “Akko, it’s alright, but we can’t argue right now! Constanze!” Diana turned her head. “You… you go and….” Words failed her as the migraine took its toll, combined with the stress headache that had wracked her whole fainted sleeping hours before. She held her temples in pain as Akko came beside her, holding her steady.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze grunted and gestured with her blaster toward the stairs. She grunted then twice more when pointing to herself. “Get the remaining students. I’ll find the others.” She meant of course the rest of the New Nine; Jasminka, Hannah, and Barbara were yet to be seen, unless Sucy had already found them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Diana accepted the plan, relieved that she could focus more on execution over plotting at a time like this. “Alright, but will you… be ok?” Diana knew Constanze wasn’t a woman to be doubted in a fight, but with the whole world seeming beared down on the academy, no one could hope to stand alone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze only replied with a thumbs up as she backpedaled down the hall, making way for the stairs. “Stay safe!” She advised with finality on her way down and around the corner. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“C-Can we really just have her go alone?” Akko had the feeling to follow after her ingenious friend, but tending to Diana and the students had to be more important. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We have to, Akko.” Diana hissed, sucking in air as she began to walk away from Akko’s side. “Now… come on. We need to get going.” She was quickly joined by Akko again who helped her along until Diana had managed to fully shake off the sickness-like pain that ran along her whole body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All while continuing the efforts to evacuate the student body though, Diana was left with one residual pain: When would that awful throbbing in her head cease? Diana could have sworn she must have been struck in the head, but she knew that no physical pain had been brought to her. Beneath that immediate pain and panic lay the morbid conclusion Diana had come to the night prior. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze wasn’t a soldier, she was but a young witch, but her judicious footfalls and vigilant eyes, the way she ran with her shotgun-like weapon in hand; she certainly fit the bill for a militantly minded witch. She had received no formal training in such matters of course, her family wanted her to be a small town smith, and her education was otherwise mundane. Despite that, her breath was as steady as her grip against the trigger and frame of her weapon. And yet, Constanze was known to be one of the most anxious witches in the whole of the graduating class; she couldn’t stand before a crowd and give a simple presentation if it demanded she speak, and even when it didn’t, she would end up clammy and mildly sweaty by the end of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Certainly, Constanze knew that by the end of this, if she was alive, that she’d be a mess. As she passed by cracked windows, toppled statues, fleeing students, and disoriented Antiquarians, she could not find any logical reason as to how her legs kept going as they did. She was en route to the kitchen, where she expected to find Jasminka, and Constanze found that her pace never faltered. It made no sense. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The passing forms of the aforementioned things were a blur, sounds of whirring magical alarms and shouted commands were dulled to an inconsequential level; Constanze could not tell if she was fainting or if she was in a “flow” state. The only conclusion she could come to as she deftly dodged past the hallway traffic was that: While social anxieties and fears might strangle all the air from her lungs at but a moment's notice, she had become hardened, or perhaps numb to those same fears and dreads when </span>
  <em>
    <span>true</span>
  </em>
  <span> danger was afoot. It had seemingly been that way ever since the Hologarium incident; Constanze was a cool and collected fighter, even if she never truly recognized that fact until now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next thing she recognized though had her skidding to a halt: The heavy crunch of stone and wood shattering! Screams, more intense than the confused yells from the other students! The noises emitted from down the hall and round a corner, followed by a deep bellow and a responding bray and snort from what sounded like an ox.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze knew exactly what she needed to do next: Lock and load. The intensity of her weapons power was set to max; power surged! The blue glass lit up brightly to signal its full capacity, and Constanze took one long breath before she started to run again toward the danger. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When rounding the corner, Constanze was almost immediately knocked out flat by the body of some poor zombie who had been punched by a fist nearly as big as its body. Constanze dove to the floor, covering her head as she did so, as the punched body hit the wall behind her with a sickening thud. Constanze looked up and around, bewildered by what had happened, but the scene before her put things into context. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Several goblins and sprites that worked and lived at the academy were battling with what must have been the invaders: A frost giant, nearly thirteen feet tall, had smashed a hole in the outermost wall, forming a breach for it, and several other smaller monsters to pile in; zombies, skeletons, and featherless bird men, all armed with crude or improvised weapons. Then came the one who delivered the punch, a Minotaur clad in a janitorial jumpsuit! The students had always known the few minotaurs among the staff team as the most gentle, if menacing looking, beings at the academy, but Constanze could clearly see that their mastery over their strength was simply unmatched; they wielded it perfectly, and the time had come to unleash it all! The minotaur in question had become locked in a contest of might, with one massive hand wrapped around the heavy club of the ice giant, and the other vying for a favorable grip on the giants own free arm, hoping to pin or grapple it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amidst that pitched battle, Constanze could see many students were being dragged away by the undead and birdmen hordes; some were unconscious, while others called on whatever spell they could to save them, typically to no avail. And deeper past the foreground of the attack, Constanze could see familiar faces defending the more young witches who were fleeing the scene: Hannah and Barbara! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze clambered to her feet after that brief moment of observation, and as she heard a muffled groan from behind her, she instinctively spun about and relieved the enthralled corpse of its head with one pull of the trigger. That felt almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> easy to do; Constanze took solace in the fact it was an already dead man and left it at that. Then came the pressing issue of the melee: Pipes, crowbars, wrenches, and other household tools were being valiantly brought to bear by the fae staff against the monstrous hordes, and while Hannah and Barbara were there to help, Constanze wasn’t about to hang back while witches were being kidnapped!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze pumped her shotgun-like blaster once and ran for the fray. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the opening moments of her flank, Constanze found herself reading the situation as she did any logic based problem: The battlefield was an equation, and she, the fae staff, Hannah and Barbara, they were all variables; the trouble came in arranging them all to achieve the most favorable outcome. She considered her role, the role of others, and her abilities compared to theirs. She wasn’t terribly quick, but her weapon packed a punch that many of her allies lacked, save a few bull-headed exceptions. Her weapon was precise to, and so in the time between her beginning to run and aiming her next shot, Constanze knew what to do. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first blast struck true, blasting the ribcage of a skeletal assailant to pieces as it struggled to drag a student away by the wrist. With its crumbling, the young witch stumbled forward into the saving arms of Barbara who warded off the lurching of more monsters through a concussive blast of arcane energies shot in the center of their formation. The next target made itself clear when several of the featherless bird men had cut down two of the courageous goblins with crude blades, screeching as they did so. They took notice of Constanze immediately and ran past the other fae defenders with furious disregard, as if of one mind and one objective. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze cursed under her breath in german as they approached, felling one with a shot to the knee and then one to the chest, but was forced to dive as the second came dangerously close to snatching her by the neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It screed and cawed in an aviant fit and redirected its eyes to Constanzes’ new position on the ground. It plodded over in long steps, dragging its blade along the ground before raising it like a butchers knife. Constanze, turned her head over quickly to spot the attack and rolled first to the right, and then the left, dodging its successive doward stabs that marred the carpeted and wooden floor. On the end of her second rolls, Constanze aimed her weapon up to obliterate the creature with a shot to the beak, but had her weapon grabbed by the bird man’s free hand. It was jerked to the side, fired twice, and blew small holes in the ceiling where the blasts struck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Its rusted blade came down again, but where Constanze expected to be stabbed in the chest or heart, ending her life, the birdman instead used it to pin her arm to the ground, and likely by luck rather than the creature's mercy, it only did so by way of her sleeve. It cawed in a way that could only be maniacal before it used its greater strength to wrench Constanze’s blaster from her hand before tossing it aside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just then, a true hero of Luna Nova came up beside the birdman and “fore’d” it with a shovel. Constanze blinked as the birdman was sent reeling and stumbling back, a new set of cracks now lining its beak as it blubbered and flailed in pain, still on its feet. She looked to her savior and saw one of the goblins, the gardener specifically, had saved her. He was wielding a shovel nearly as tall as him and had already been cut and bruised a good deal, but he was fighting on in spite of it all; this was his home and place of work, and he’d defend it to the end. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The gardener took time to try and assist Constanze, setting aside his shovel as he focused on trying to wiggle free the rusty blade that was pinning the German witch. Constanze did her best to help, but when a pair of avian talons had stepped down hard on her already pinned arm, stabbing into her flesh, she was forced to bite back a pained yell as her body froze up. The gardener had been backhanded by the monster and was sent flying three feet away, clutching at his likely broken nose. The birdman roared, asserting its dominance before it stepped over Constanze and focused wholly on killing the gardener. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Through the pain, Constanze had to fight. Blood was staining the left sleeve of her white undershirt at an alarming rate, but she couldn’t let just one attack bring her down. She used all of her might to finally loosen the crude sword, scraping her palm in doing so, and cast it aside. While the birdman was beating away at the downed gardener, she made haste for her magi-technical gun. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She rolled onto her back once she had it in her hands, brought its sights to bear on the birdman, and obliterated its left arm as it was raised to claw at the huddling goblin below. It screamed in pain, but was made to gurgle and die when one more slug of pure arcane power was pumped into its back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In spite of her injury, Constanze stood and hurried over to return the favor the gardener had provided. He was more beaten and bloody than before now, but his eyes, much like Constanzes’ own, conveyed courage and a will to fight on. Silent acknowledgement had Constanze lifting the gardener goblin up onto his feet, and when his shovel was returned to him, he tipped his hat before making it back to reinforce his brothers and sisters in maintenance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the time between that engagement though, Constanze could see the battle was taking a turn for the worse. Many of the fae staff were being beaten back, and the Minotaur had lost out against the grappling contest, and was thrown through the wall opposite to the entrance, leading the battle to spill out into one of the alchemy labs where the Giant and the Minotaur now wrestled. Worst of all, Hannah and Barbara were now being harried from behind; the route of escape for both the students and the dual nobles was blocked by two armored knights clad in sparkling silver, black shoulder capes, and armed with swords. Their appearance seemed harrowingly familiar to Constanze, but she could not put a finger on it right now, not when chaos was all about her! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What Constanze knew for certain though was that they’d need aid, and fast!</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A few minutes prior….</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim struggled against his own body weight as a winter wind howled past the New Moon tower. He was dangling over the edge, having been blown back in such a way that he nearly skid off of the platform; his fingers were strained and cut up from how intensely he gripped the structure. He could neither see his comrades nor his broom, and no matter how closely he came to pulling himself up, his weight was just a tad too much when lacking for anything that he could truly dig into to support his weight. If he tried any further to force himself up, he’d risk slipping away, and his broom was nowhere in sight, possibly having been blown away in the shockwave. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim’s mind was still awash in fuzziness, his ideas were like television static. The proverbial wind had been knocked from his sails when that malignant weapon fired, whatever it was, and destroyed Luna Nova’s last hope. Whoever had attacked them now had a clear path to assault the academy proper, and where no witch should be counted out due to their youth, to expect children to fend off militant foes who were likely to use lethal force was folly at best and woefully irresponsable at worst. The graduate class and the one below them in age were the only likely exceptions given their greater mastery of magic, but not everyone was cut out for combat psychologically let alone physically. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Ibrahim dangled, the weight of his body grew with the weight of his heavied soul as he ran through the estimates. To man a vessel of that size, to say nothing of the monsters they could be summoned, assuming those eld witches were involved, Ibrahim estimated that Luna Nova’s defenders, generously counting the eldest classes, the fae staff, professors, and the Antiquarians, it was still likely the defenders were outnumbered twelve to one, or worse even! Ibrahim and company had only seen part of the ship; so much of it was obscured by storm clouds, and what appeared to be a castle structure most certainly was attached. If there were a way to visually represent insurmountable odds, this would be the primest of examples. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ibrahim!” Isaac called out, echoed by the two other Antiquarians who had collected themselves. “Ibrahim, where are you?!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another of the Antiquarians called out. “We may be down a witch!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Amanda?” Isaac could be heard faintly calling back. “Is she well?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A pause followed that had Ibrahim sucking in his breath. “She’s alright! Took a nasty fall though!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then Ibrahim released his gasp with a call of his own. “Isaac! Gabrielle! I’m over here!” Thankfully, they followed his voice well, and with one arm from each of the identified Antiquarians, they hoisted Ibrahim up onto the now partly glittering floor of the New Moon tower platform. The three of them fell onto their backs and bellies, breathing heavily for a few moments as they collected themselves. Ibrahim, laid out flat on his stomach, wiped his face and eyes to focus his vision. He had thought it a sign of a concussion or some other head injury, but no, he was seeing clearly: Emerald shards, the shattered fragments of the shield that protected Luna Nova, and pieces of the now fractured Sorcerer’s Stone, were coating the tower in a thin layer of near pure magic. With each moment, those small pieces faded away bit by bit, like snow on a surface that was just one degree above freezing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Sorcerer’s Stone itself was indeed in pieces; five to be exact. Ibrahim’s eyes wandered over each piece solemnly. Luna Nova no longer required it to operate, but it was one of nine irreplaceable artifacts that had aided academies around the world for centuries, each having its own unique property and purpose. Four had already been destroyed, and history had shown that soon after their destruction, the destruction of the academy they were entrusted too was almost assured. The stone had fallen to the platform below and shattered, and could likely never be repaired. Ibrahim knew well the power of omens, and this sight would likely haunt him for life, as would the names and faces of every witch that would die this day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What… should we do, Ibrahim?” Isaac asked through heavy breathing as he sat back up. “The invaders are… no doubt planning to… take their fight to the ground.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We need to get back inside!” Gabrielle urged. “Who knows what kind of damage that blast caused! We need to rally the defenders!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Haunted or not, they were right. Ibrahim had a defense to lead. He rose to his feet with a grunt of pain and staggered for his luckily nearby pike staff. “We do, and we will! Take a moment to regroup though.” His eyes turned out to the attacking vessel. “They're not making any moves yet, so gather your brooms, and let's figure out a way down there.” He then scanned the platform and found they had three brooms remaining; plenty to ferry all four to the school, assuming Amanda was fit to fight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Speaking of the flamingo haired witch, Ibrahim hurried over to her in the moments that followed, and for mercy, found she was already coming to. The third Antiquarian among the group had been lending some healing magics to staunch the bleeding coming from the back of Amanda’s head; she must have struck the platform hard when she was blown over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A low, uneasy hum, marked Amanda’s first signs of regaining her consciousness. “Mmmhmm… ugh.” Then came a sudden convulsion; her body shunted upward, lifting off of the floor in a hurry as though awoken from a nightmare. She breathed heavily at first, but with Ibrahim and company being the first sight she saw, she was quickly relieved, only for a moment; their hopeless expressions soured her spirit in another form. “Oh god, don’t tell me….” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We can lament when we’re dead.” Ibrahim redirected. “There’s no option for a retreat, and I’m not about to surrender; none of us are.” The other Antiquarians nodded in concert. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda sighed, rubbed her forehead, and examined her palm as her thoughts coalesced. It was one thing to come to terms with her own death, but Amanda could hardly imagine a world without so many of the witches she’d come to know at Luna Nova. Hell, even Avery, for all of her snootiness that she never seemed to grow out of, would be missed greatly should anything ill befall her. “Then what are we doing here?” Her opened palm tightened to a fist. “They can blow us to fuckin’ kingdom come if they want, I ain’t backing down when my friends are down there!” They felt like so much more than friends though. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The flame within, though dimmed, was not put out, mirroring she who hosted it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Isaac offered the hand that allowed Amanda to dust herself off and get back up. “We’ll need every wand available.” Isaac assured with a clasp on the back; Antiquarians were nothing but stalwart, and their second wind was infectious in a way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Amanda had begun to speak but was cut short by Ibrahim’s head darting out toward the sky surrounding the blimp-fortress. “We may have company!” The whole group turned together and then moved for the edge to get a closer look. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, on the horizon, winged steeds and flying monsters were descending on the academy. And from the forests, it was clear that large crowds of indistinguishable count and composition were marching onward; the whole campus was surrounded. Ibrahim’s former estimation of how outnumbered they were fell ever farther from the troop. “By the Nine….” He was left mouth agape and brushed his brow and eyes to assure he was seeing things correctly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To all their dismay, their eyes did not deceive them. The most immediately worrying of sights though was headed straight for them! It was a small squadron of the winged horses, and it was clear now that knightley figures were atop them; each was clad in silver armor, save the lead horses rider, who wore a billowing black cape and plate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Back up! Wands up, weapons out!” Ibrahim ordered as he himself backed away, his amberly tipped staff charging up. His Antiquarians joined him, their wands raised and magics summoned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda too prepared herself for battle, steeling herself once more with a wide posture. Her eyes focused intensely on the lead rider as they drew near. The dread-steeds galloping could be heard as if it were done upon earth despite being in the air, and with one glance given to Amanda by the lead rider, she was stunned. His pallid face, well kept brown hair and beard, black armor, those predatory yellow eyes, and lordly sneer; she had seen him before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The knights, Nikolai’s honour guard, circled the tower with a gesture from their liege as he came to hover in place. “Witches!” Nikolai called out, his voice demanding respect. “You are faced with certain doom.” His posture atop the horse remained stately as he spoke, but one hand remained ever present on the hilt of his sword. “But no lord is without mercy, no monarch without the capacity for forgiveness.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda could hardly stand his damnable voice; she had heard him before too, and now especially, with the way he carried himself, Amanda knew she hated him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim shouted back as she came a few steps closer, his posture made less aggressive for a moment, if only because it was clear that this would be the first and only negotiation between the warring parties. “What forgiveness could you offer? You’ve attacked these innocent young women and held them prisoner in their own academy! It is you who should beg for absolution!” Ibrahim pointed an accusatory finger at Nikolai. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai only grew more impatient with the rebuttal, but he would keep to the formalities of war for now. “The crime is your foul existence, sorcerer! Your lives, and the lives of so many on this wretched earth are forfeit. You are all mired in sin and immorality…. You have but two options…!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda could feel her teeth grinding. This talk of sin and crimes innate to the soul struck a terrible note in her psyche. She came to Luna Nova to escape the horrible shaming of her family; their market-gospel faith enraged her ever since she could read. And knowing </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the man who destroyed Ludinghal gave Amanda all the reason she would need to stomp him out right then and there. The only thing that had her hesitating was Ibrahim’s own voice interrupting Nikolai’s. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If neither of those options entail the absolutely ensured safety of all witches present, then we’ve nothing more to speak of!” Ibrahim’s principles could not be buckled nor broken, not by fear or intimidation; his will was as iron, and his tone said as much. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai allowed a brief silence to take hold of the scene as he sized up each of the combatants before resting his eyes on Ibrahim. “Then struggle if you so desire, but your deaths are now inevitable…. Make peace with your pagan gods, for I, Lord Nikolai Zrinski, favored son of—” A murowa struck his cheek, marring it black and making a dry wound. Nikolai’s horse bucked, and he nearly fell from his steed as his face became that of rage incarnate. His hateful stare fell on Amanda who had fired the spell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut…! The </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck…!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Up!” Amanda’s held out  casting-arm trembled with fury that matched Nikolai’s own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“To strike me so flippantly!” Nikolai held his partly open cheeks, his words having been more growled rather than said as the flesh reknit before their very eyes. “You shall not just die here, whelps!” He roared, his sword unsheathed. “You shall be </span>
  <em>
    <span>broken</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” He whistled in rally to his circling knights. “Slay them! Make them suffer!” His command brought four of the veteran vampire knights to leap from their saddles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rest remained in the air as Nikolai ordered them. “With me! I shall not waste time on such dishonourable scum!” His own steed and the remaining knights flew away then, gunning for the tower where Chariot’s quarters once stood and where a small magical barrier gave off light that drew in the attackers; they smelled weak prey. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ibrahim, the three antiquarians, and Amanda were forced to stand back to back then, each faced by an elite knight of the Bathory clan. Ibrahim whispered as the knights, with blades and shields drawn and held at posturing positions, circled the group. “I can’t blame you for your anger, Amanda, but was that wise?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck no, but I’m not about to get monologued at before we get gutted.” Amanda’s words were venomous. “Especially not by the son of a bitch that burned Ludinghal.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He did that?” Ibrahim was briefly caught off guard, but recentered himself with two blinks. “Nevermind! Look, you have the fastest riding skill of anyone present.” His pace of speaking quickened, the knights were getting closer and more ready to strike. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And? What the hell does that have to do—” Amanda was cut off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You need to get to the Academy. We’ll handle things here. Get back and tell everyone you can find to fall back to the Sanctum. We need to stand as a united front. I’m counting on you to—” Ibrahim was returned the favor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck that! I ain’t leaving you!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s no time to debate, Amanda!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, so stop trying to—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damnit Amanda, listen! There is a time for fool hearted bravery, and that time has passed!” Ibrahim’s words cut deep and silenced Amanda. “The whole defence could be riding on your assembling our forces down in the sewers. If we can’t reconcile our forces, we might not have any other chances of getting out of this!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How would we…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know! But we need time to figure that—” The knights had found their opening, and with a hissing befitting a vampire, the first lurched forward to strike downwardly on Ibrahim. With his pikestaff, he caught the blade, and at the moment the metal weapons clashed, the melee began in earnest. “JUST GO!” He ordered with finality; there’d be no time to talk when faced against these foes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda herself was forced to dodge out of the way of a horizontal swipe, having combat rolled to the side and shot a few simple arcane blasts at the knight who had attacked her. The blasts plinked off of their armor as they shouted in accusation. “Perish, vermin!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda again jumped back, but more desperately this time, and her eyes went wide when the blade impacted the ground. The strength of the knights was enough to leave a small crack and shattered wound in the stone floor. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Holy shit!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> And the regeneration of Nikolai was not lost of her; these fighters were pretty high above her typical “weight class.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And they were impeccably fast too, despite all that armor! The elite knight surged forward in a sprint despite having put his full weight into the strike. His blade grinded against the stone, shattering the face of the floor as it flashed upward to bisect Amanda. His strike was only deflected by a hasty arcane shield that Amanda summoned on her wrists, and the two forces grinded against one another for a brief moment before Amanda managed to kick away from the clash. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The advice to run was feeling a lot more enticing now, especially because the Antiquarians were all armed with wands </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> blades, giving them an advantage to at least properly block the attacks without magic. Amanda had no such luxuries. What she did have was a soul on fire, and a penchant for fire magic. “Igneousera!” She cast a lighting-strike-shaped firebolt with what space she had, and if only out of luck, her attack connected. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bolt pierced at a weak point in the armor where the plate gave way to chainmail and gambeson: The Neck. The flaming spear staggered the knight, but it </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> staggered him, and that had Amanda genuinely afraid for her chances. The knight screamed in pain and scrambled with his hands, eventually pulling out the spike as the magic dispersed. His now empty hand trembled before forming a fist; beneath his helm, Amanda could tell that the attack had only angered him rather than crippled him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Right. Just go!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda thought as the knight re-readied his blade and charged her  down at a blinding speed. Amanda forced his blade off course with a well placed murowa that struck the blade itself rather than the wielder, and with the space given, Amanda made a break for the nearest broom. By way of magic, she levitated the broom before she reached it, and had it thrown off of the tower. Then, as she reached the edge, she made a leap of faith off into the shadowed campus below. The vampire knight was too slow to catch her, and his blade merely stabbed at the air as he had just barely missed his chance to end his quarry with a hasty lunge. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now in freefall, Amanda made sure to bring the thrown broom back to her with a whistle and twirl of the wand. It sailed out from the air and came under her, and while it buckled under her sudden weight, forcing her to flounder and flail about in seeking balance, she had at least stopped her descent. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Phew…. Alright. Ok… those guys don’t die easy.” </span>
  </em>
  <span> She half whispered to herself between anxious breaths before pressing her broom to speed on toward the now assailed academy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Ok, what to do? Where to go? Rally the defenders, right?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyes took in the full breadth of the battle, and none of it looked pretty. Most immediately, Amanda could tell that some sort of skirmish was occuring in the ruins of Chariot’s old room, though she could not identify the combatants, save for that haughty Nikolai character. If his soldiers were anything to be feared, he must be quite the fighter himself if his words weren’t hollow; whoever was facing off against him would no doubt need help!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda veered up, her mind made up, and gunned for the ruined tower. “Typherious Ph—” But that were-bat from earlier, having finished off its prey, the now late Antiquarian Catherine, had other ideas. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s high pitched roar came only a second before the tackle hit Amanda from below, and the two were sent spiralling up in a messy grapple. Its bloodied claws and jaws snapped and thrashed, fighting for purchase on Amanda’s frame. Amanda was blindsided, and her body moved on instinct alone. She punched and kicked away with every bit of energy she had and managed to sock it right in the nose as it tried to bite at her face. The creature recoiled, briefly dazed, and that strike was enough to make it lose focus on their flight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two, now battling desperately for dominance in the air, were sent careening toward the academy by way of the broom that Amanda was still clinging to. A quick glance gave Amanda sight of where they were headed; right into the window of one of the dormitories, and her back was facing it! She needed to reverse her position and quickly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she shot her focus back to the creature, its wicked claws struck true along her left side; four blade lone claws were dug deep into her flesh. Amanda, while howling in pain, managed to hold her wand out to the side and blast off some random vent of magic. While appearing useless at first, it forced the momentum of their comet-like descent to shift, sending them now spinning toward the aforementioned window. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda was relying on luck, and for once, it was on her side. The crash came with the back of the were-bat facing the window; glass stabbed into its whole form and was dug ever deeper by the collision with the floor that followed. Amanda tumbled away, struck with the sharp pains of the claws being ripped out of her side and from the harsh skid along the wooden floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda brought her hands to apply pressure to and probe the open wounds, and she was very fortunate indeed to not find her guts spilling out, but the wounds were by no means trivial. Before she could even worry about patching up though, Amanda had a were-bat to finish off. It was too stunned with pain, and bled heavily from the wounds it had suffered; it no doubt had many brokens bones to live with as well. Amanda would make sure it didn’t live much longer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She rose to her feet, her legs staggered and shaking in shell-shocked fashion, and leveled her wand at the thing. As it reached for her with every bit of strength it had left, Amanda could see its eyes were just </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Amanda had seen werebats before, even killed one prior to this battle, and everything about the way it looked at her was off. She hadn’t had a chance to make the realization before given the pitched battles, but it was clear now. A magical red haze consumed the eyes of the entity, and by all accounts, were-bats were neither this aggressive, this </span>
  <em>
    <span>suicidal</span>
  </em>
  <span> in their aggression, or well known to populate the British isles. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Those damn witches….” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It growled and hissed even as Amanda contemplated it’s now miserable existence. Beneath all that monstrous physique was a human, and while Amanda had put one down before, she knew most “were” beings to be capable of reason even when transformed; the one she’d killed was an exception, and so was this one, and the one prior. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m gonna make those freaky bitches pay for what they did.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>They must have been the ones controlling all of the monsters, Amanda reasoned, and that fact alone put everything into context.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ludinghal was there doing as well as much as it was those knights; they were allied, united in a quest to destroy the witches of the world, so it seemed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Over my dead body!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She fired off one merciful bolt of lightning from her wand that silenced the maddened mewlings of the were-bat. Amanda was only glad to see that the body did not transform back; she would not want to live with the sight of the person she had been forced to kill. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda then slowly collapsed onto her side on the nearby bed for relief. “Haaahh…. Agh!” Amanda’s voice trembled in pain as she held her tender wounds and bruises before one hand made to grab the nearest blanket. Quick thinking had her tying it around her waist as tightly as she can with the binding point leveled over where the were-bat had wounded her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With the bleeding stopped, at the very least, Amanda took in deep and intentioned breaths. She needed to stop her body from going into shock at the barrage of senses she was being met with and the weight of the situation that held her down. Each rise in her chest felt like a rebellion against the crushing hopelessness of the situation, and Amanda took that time to reason out what to do next. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She spoke to herself as a way of centering her mind and spirit.  “Alone…. Fucked up…. Can I walk?” While she was just standing before she had to go down the proverbial checklist for her own sanity's sake. Amanda rose slowly, steadily,  and supported herself with a hand that held onto the headrest of the bed. “Ok. I can stand... “ She walked around in a slow circle, still breathing loudly, heavily, and intentionally. “And I can walk. Good….” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyes went to her feet then, and she sized up her whole body in the partially cracked mirror that sat on the mostly dessicated desk by the window. “Not dead. Not yet.” With her reflection, she examined the wound. “And I’m not bleeding out.” She presumed. “Ok… I can do this. Gotta find… someone.” Anyone would do; Amanda knew she wouldn’t last long alone, and she owed it to Ibrahim and everyone to do what she had been tasked with. She could only hope Ibrahim and the other three Antiquarians would hold out in spite of her absence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A lightbulb thought struck her then. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“The broom!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> But when Amanda turned, she found it snapped in two; useless. “Fuck!” She swore aloud, wiping her forehead. “On foot then….” There was no more putting it off, and she hurried on out of the dorm room, down the hall, and to the stairs; toward the sounds of intense fighting. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hordes just kept coming, and the battle lines, if they could be called that, were bent further and further; the defenders would break soon. Constanze felt the heat of her weapon in hand and lost count of just how many times she’d fired, or at what she was even shooting. The enemies ranged from the familiarly magical to the absurdly obscure, but they all shared that same terrible purpose: Capture the young witches, kill the ones who couldn’t be taken. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze had done her damndest to make her way to Hannah and Barbara, who were now playing the deadliest game of cat and mouse they could; dodging blades and grasping hands from inhumanly fast knights! Spells of all variety and schools bounced across the walls, danced on the floors; a fireworks display of magic. But Constanze could hardly get a beat on either of the most dangerous threats, mostly because of the bifurcated nature of the battle; Constanze, many goblins and faeries, and some reinforcing Antiquarians were split on one side of the hall, and on the other, Hannah, Barbara, and allies were faltering. With every few moments another of the trapped students was taken, and despite the best of efforts, the groups seemed to be stuck in a deadlock. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even the brawling minotaur and giant found they were once again near evenly matched; it would come down to endurance, as punch after punch, blow after blow was exchanged in this gruelling affair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze, as she fought, felt she was running out of tactical options, but she couldn’t just abandon anyone. “Constanze!” A familiar voice called out from behind, which had Constanze spinning her head right around. Amanda was running for them, bealguredly, but brimming with that signature determination. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Amanda!” Constanze wondered where her reckless friend would be during all of this, but before any Constanze could feel any relief, she noticed Amanda’s deep wound. “You’re hur—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know!” Amanda interrupted as she arrived at the firing line of defending witches. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze stammered, “N-No time! Hannah and Barbara!” and pointed out the danger the aforementioned witches were in. “Need to get across!” Constanze fired off a few more bolts between words as the group of witches and fae were pushed back, inch by inch. “Ideas!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda whipped up her wand at the surge of monsters, adding her power to the barrage as she otherwise fixated her attention on the two knights. There was a considerable gap between them, and a whole helluva lot of foes blocking the way; the obvious answer was to go over, even if that sounded crazy. Amanda was all about crazy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok! But it’s gonna sound dumb!” Amanda yelled over the din of battle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just do it!” Constanze ordered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-Wait a sec!” Amanda slipped behind Constanze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What!?” Constanze couldn’t take her focus off of the fight, but she felt Amanda rummaging in her backpack full of tools. “What the hell—?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda produced the grappling hook device Constanze had used a day prior; the very thought of using them had slipped her mind! “Remember these!” Amanda pulled Constanze back then, giving them space to jam the attachment onto her weapon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s only one.” Constanze sharply pointed out. “And you are </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> using this.” She referred to her blaster of course. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well it’s sturdy right? The rope?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And? What does—” Constanze was then scooped up bridal-style by Amanda. “PUT ME DOWN YOU—” Her voice became fraught with confusion, fear, and embarrassment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, we’re supposed to be a team for shit like this right!? Trust me! Just shoot it!” Amanda backed up to get a running start, and while holding Constanze, she kept her wand handy between her fingers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze, having been given no more time to even consider what this plan could even entail, hazarded a guess at Amanda’s intentions. When Amanda began running forward, Constanze fired at the ceiling above the battle, and sure enough, it's exactly what Amanda was hoping for. Amanda pointed her wand down, jumped up, and with a wind spell, propelled the two high enough to make use of their momentum, swinging over all of the mobbed monsters below. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The passing seconds felt slow for both of them, and while mid flight, Amanda threw Constanze out of her arms once they’d cleared the divide. Now mid air, Constanze retracted her grapple-shot, and tumbled in the air a full three hundred and sixty degrees. Internally, her mind was screaming, but externally, she was too focused on trying to land shots on one of the knights that had cornered Barbara. With the crosshairs aligned, Constanze pulled once, readjusted, then twice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first bolt shattered the knight's helm, and in the time between the second shot, the vampire stumbled in a daze, their bared fangs and gaunt face revealed. After the second trigger pull, that ghoulish face was no more, obliterated by the arcane slug. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Meanwhile, Amanda, after having thrown her friend, used another blast of wind to redirect her fall. She held her arms out wide and shouted intensely out of the sheer thrill. She could feel her soul on fire. Her whole body fell on the other knight as he began to reach for Hannah’s casting arm, tackling him from above, and leaving Amanda in a pinning position.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Miraculously, Constanzed managed to land with some semblance of grace, which was to say she didn’t land on her rear, and instead came to a running stumble. She could </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> believe that worked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Amanda!?” Hannah blurted out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Constanze!?” Barbara yelped simultaneously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Constanze turned about, time seemed to flow by more naturally, but everything was still so very dizzy. She caught sight of Amanda bashing the back of the pinned knight's head into the ground over and over again, only for her to be tossed off when the vampire got a hold of his senses. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The vampire knight then scrambled to their feet, but to no avail; the floor beneath him was made slippery by the most harmless of spells, but most effective, from Barbara. Hannah followed up with her own petrification curse, leaving the vampire helpless; they were strong, oppressive foes, but not as immortal as they claimed. “Get the students away!” Hannah called out to her allies. “Go on, come on, run!” She then commanded to those same students who were cowering in the corners. They ran past the stunned knight with all haste, and Antiquarians joined them, some wounded; they’d lead the younger witches to the sanctum. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda, now free to get herself together, decided it was best to make sure the frozen vampire would never pose another problem. She picked up his discarded sword and brought it haggardly down on his neck, severing it after two heavy chops. A bolt to the neck didn’t kill them, but clearly they still needed their heads. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before any recooperation could be had though, the team of four graduate witches had bigger problems to handle. WHile the hordes pouring in were focused almost solely on the fae staff and the Antiquarians now on the opposite side of the hallway, that frost giant needed to be brought down.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze shouted. “Amanda!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-What!?” Amanda spun about to see the giant stumble backward and managed to leap out of the way alongside Hannah. “Shit!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lumbering giant had been blown back by a heavy punch from the minotaur, but when the janitor tried to follow up on the opening they were met with a frosty mace upside the head, shattering his left horn. He fell onto his back with an oxen roar of pain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Barbara screamed in fear as she held up her wand, her arms were stiff as stone, and she was still backed up in the corner. Her spell, a telekinetic cast, sent a probably irreplaceable vase to crash against the giant’s head; that only pissed it off. It turned, slow and steady like, before howling a cold breath down on Barbara, which both completely froze her in fear and almost literally froze her body. “Barbara!” Hannah screamed as she sent a few distracting murowas the way of the giant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze took the lead on this one: “Amanda!” She called out to her would-be partner and gestured with a finger to the chandelier above and then to her grappling hook. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda seemed to catch on right away. “I’ll hold ‘em steady!” She called out while sprinting toward the lumbering Jotun. She got low when approaching, her speed allowing her to dodge the downward slam of the giant's frosty mace, and slid between his legs. With her “borrowed” sword, she managed to slam the blade against the giant's achilles, shattering the icy layer of natural armor and bringing it to one knee with a pained bellow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze was up next, and used her blaster to shoot down the chandelier. WIth the grand light fixture in free fall and the Giant stunned, it could do nothing when the heavy golden light fixture crashed against its back and head, shattering more of that frozen exterior. That’s where the grappling hook came into effect: With its flesh revealed, Constanze shot the hook into its exposed section, jumped up onto its back, and blasted three consecutive rounds at point blank range. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A mad sort of rodeo ensued with the giant thrashing about, smashing apart walls and windows and paintings, and only with Hannah and a bitterly cold Barbara’s help, was a nearby plant given such enormous girth that its vines could wrap around the waist of the giant. Now held in place, the recovering Minotaur dug its hooves into the ground before charging forward.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Constanze! Jump!” Amanda, having made it safely away from the danger, threw aside the sword and held out her arms to catch her gun-toting friend. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze did as asked and lept into Amanda’s arm with her eyes clenched tights. When she felt the relatively soft landing hit her, Constanze peaked one eye open, and then the other. Amanda grinned down to her. The two shot their heads back up in the next moment and caught sight of the titanic clash: The minotaur, in their charge, wound up a fierce punch. The haymaker of the century was delivered with a victorious “mooing” from the minotaur janitor; the giant was toppled and rendered unconscious. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hannah and Barbara too became entranced in watching the feat, but Amanda was the only one to really drop her guard. “WOO!! GET ‘EM BIG GUY!” Amanda cheered on as the janitor continued his righteous rampage; he turned about on a dime and barrelled back through the crowds of monsters, sending them bowling out through the very hole they came through as Antiquarians and goblins cleaned up the stragglers. Finally, with his last bit of mythical rage, the minotaur heaved heavy bricks, cabinets, clocks, anything inanimate that wasn’t bolted down into the open wound of the academy’s wall, effectively sealing it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, everyone could breathe easy, if only for a moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“THAT’S WHAT I’M FUCKIN’ TALKIN’ ABOUT! WOO!” Amanda cheered and shouted elatedly, enough to forget the tone and gravity of the situation. She was reminded, in part, by Constanze grunting and clearing her throat. “A-Ahh! Yeah… sorry.” Amanda let her friend down with a nervous chuckle, and after a brief moment of scanning her surroundings, she ran to Hannah and Barbara. “H-Hey! You two alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hannah turned around and bolted for Amanda in turn; the two met each other halfway in a hug that had Hannah spun around. Before the two got carried away though, Barbara spoke up through her teeth chattering. “A-A l-little… warm… warmth please?” She shuffled forth, shaking like a jackhammer, with frostbitten hair and bits of ice on her face. Amanda obliged with summoned fires that quickly cooled Barbara off. A dual hug went her way as well, and the polycule were given their moments of rejoice; though each of them was uncomfortably sweaty and wet after that, thanks to Barbara’s formerly frosted self. Giggles and smiles were shared as though they’d already survived the worst of this crisis. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze watched on, allowing them their moment with a half smile and shake of the head, though a responsible Antiquarian made sure they did not linger. “We have to get moving!” A woman with a heavy Russian accent reminded them. “There’s no doubt more breaches in other parts of the school!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The group split a part, allowing Amanda to address the defenders now that she’d remembered what she’d been asked to do. “R-Right! Ibrahim told me we all need to fall back! Like, right now! We gotta get to sanctum! He said we gotta come up with a plan or something. And I can confirm we do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanna stay topside! There’s way more than we can just take on!” She was by no means a born leader, but she got the point across, and no one was about to argue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the defenders began to run down the hall past the polycule and Constanze, Hannah specifically started pulling her two girlfriends along by the wrist. “Well, then what are we waiting for!? Come on!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“H-Hey! Wagh!” Barbara stumbled. “I wasn’t ready!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda barely managed to stay on her feet too. “Ok, ok! We’re coming!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze could only shake her head, “Idioten….” before she too followed behind, the half smiling having faded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now that they had been given a relative break from the constant action, each of them ran through their internal trains of thoughts as best they could, but none more so than Amanda and Constanze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze wasn’t crazy; she knew she wasn’t. She recognized those knights and even some of the monsters. None in particular stood out, but she had a terrible feeling that this felt all too familiar to the footage she’d poured over for hours; the destruction of Ludinghal. If fate was playing a joke on her, it wasn’t funny, because the coincidence that the same forces that wanted some poor and seemingly random town in the German countryside destroyed being the same that would then lay siege to Luna Nova a week later just seemed cruel. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There had to be some sort of greater connection, and while Constanze wanted nothing more for this attack to be a terrible nightmare, a part of her that had been consumed by rage was just aching for that hunch she had to be proven true. There wouldn’t need to be any long drawn out hunt, there would just be sweet, sweet vengeance. The real trouble was in being strong enough to actually achieve that goal. If Amanda was to be believed, and Constanze had no reason to doubt her, then they were woefully outnumbered, and they needed a miracle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>During her winded sprint, amidst her deep thinking, Constanze caught sight of Amanda’s own troubled expression from the side. Constanze turned away, frowning. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Can I really drag her down with me though?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze and Amanda weren’t the best of friends; there was a time when they weren’t even friends, but barely agreeable roommates. Now, years later, Amanda, while not even wholly aware of or invested in Constanze’s internal struggles and dicey relationship she had with her family, was willing to risk her life so Constanze could indulge her vengeful side. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“She’s not exactly happy about things either. She has her own problems.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>And what made Constanze feel worse about it was that she felt she’d made no attempt to aid Amanda in solving those things; not that Amanda was ever very keen on “letting others in,” so to speak. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I won’t change either.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The words Constanze did not speak, but meant in promise, to Sucy. Constanze felt those were significant, somehow, to the unease Constanze felt about all of this. Constanze often relied on others for emotional aid, and in turn, Constanze made sure she could be relied on when possible for the same reason. Amanda never “needed” that support, by her own account at least. Constanze felt it would be a sort of betrayal of that promise to Sucy to not press Amanda on her problems just because Constanze herself felt too wrapped up and focused on her own problems, her quest for vengeance. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“If she’s going to make my problems hers, it's only fair that I make hers mine.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze resoluted silently, her expression becoming stern once more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda, meanwhile, knew all too well that those knights, whoever they were, were the same ones who attacked Ludinghal. She wanted to stop Constanze right then and there, and tell her that, but what would happen? Amanda knew what she would do: She’d drop all pretense of putting up a defence, go out guns blazing into the campus, call out that bougie son of a bitch Nikolai, and either kill him or die trying, but things were not that simple. Amanda had difficulty even knowing if that </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> what she would do. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After all, Amanda </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated</span>
  </em>
  <span> her family. She couldn’t care less if they lived or died, and where she wasn’t so sick as to want to actively kill them, if those pale bastards came along and offed them, she wouldn’t complain. Back to the question of what </span>
  <em>
    <span>Constanze</span>
  </em>
  <span> would do, Amanda was still at a loss. She had never known her friend to be so vengeful as to want to actively hunt something down and kill it. Sure, Constanze was always joked at for being the “tiny German girl with enough anger and anxiety for five people,” but things had been taken to a whole nother level. For now, Amanda would hold her tongue: If Constanze would be tempted to do something reckless, enough to get her killed, then there would have to be a better time and place to reveal that information.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Pot calling the kettle black O’Neill. Can it.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sucy’s voice, ripped from the memory of that conversation back in the arboretum, added salt to irony’s wound. Sucy was, again, retroactively correct. Amanda had no right to criticize someone for recklessness; she could hardly even hold to her own self criticism, not that she felt life was being fair enough to </span>
  <em>
    <span>let</span>
  </em>
  <span> her do that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda hated this, all of it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Just… to hell with it!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her internal voice pushed aside all other thoughts. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Whatever happens, come what fuckin’ may, I’m doing this my way, Constanze’s way; whatever! We’re gonna get through this.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Amanda, mid run, took in a deep breath. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I made a promise, and like hell I’m gonna be caught dead or alive not keepin’ it!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She meant it for Constanze as much she meant for Hannah and Barbara; somehow, Amanda would satisfy all their needs, even if the objectives seemed to conflict. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even with all of this internal strife, the reclaimers would find themselves well kept in the sanctum. Jehanne and Vaal had chosen well, as had their flame. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><hr/><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Fates Deferred | A Kindled Flame</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>PHEW! It was a long two weeks. It felt like such a slog to write, not because I didn't enjoy it, but because life kept getting in the way and really was just non conducive to my mental health or my hobby/passions. Ideally this will be the end of those woes for a while at the bare minimum. This chapter ties up The Battle of Luna Nova (For now!) And sets us up for the second half of the story involving a quest to find and revive an all but forgotten order! </p><p>Be on the look out for chapter 12! It should be much easier to get it done in my preferred 1-week timeframe assuming life doesn't decide to kick my ass again, specifically because chapter 12 will be an interlude chapter. This will NOT be Rondo in Black, but will instead be an Interlude focused on The Child and her quest for identity that nebulously takes place over time between events in the other chapters. To clarify, Rondo in Black will be saved for the final five or so chapters of the fic. </p><p>I think going forward I'll stick to this style. One Interlude and one Rondo per Fate witch each fic since I feel it's nice to get some more variety/weird ways of telling their stories/developments, and one Interlude/extra chapter meant to help worldbuild, foreshadow other events (as I did in Interlude), and focus on one of the side characters, such as The Child in this case. </p><p>https://karmotrinedreams91.tumblr.com/ Here's my tumblr for those who didn't know I made one! I post updates for how the fic is coming along and reblog LWA fanart and musings alongside art that inspires me/writing resources and tips. </p><p>Without further delay, ENJOY!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The way down into the sanctum was more suffocating than remembered; Amanda, Constanze, Hannah, and Barbara were being funneled down the stairway into the study proper alongside a frightened and panicked student body. Fae staff and professors helped to calm the most struck students, and those with injuries were passed along through the lines by other witches as quickly as could be. After a less than pleasurable squeeze-by, the four of the New Nine present managed to slip out from the procession that was being shepherded down into the deeper parts of the sanctum. </p><p> </p><p>The archive room was as remembered, though the alcove where Woodward’s lone shrine and statuette stood was pushed back, and beneath it, another slope of stairs was revealed; the path into the labyrinths and the uppermost catacombs of The Olde Barrows. Supposedly, Holbrooke had ensured that it would be safe by means she never fully clarified, not  even with the other professors. They’d just have to hope that this “chat” with the enigmatic Woodward would be enough to ensure their survival.</p><p> </p><p>Now off to the side, near some of the dusty bookshelves, a heaving and sweating Constanze shivered and shuttered beside Amanda. “Tight spaces… crowds…. Not good.” She shook her head vigorously. Sure, the horrible army of monsters was awful, terrible even, but all Constanze needed was for her social anxieties to be agitated on top of that. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re alright Conz. Take some breaths, get some… phew, get your bearings.” Amanda, lacking a proper scabbard, stuck her stolen sword between some loose stones in the cobbled floor. “We gotta find the rest of—”</p><p> </p><p>“Hannah! Barbara!” Diana’s voice solved the problem of the missing four members before it became one. She made her way through the traffic with a few hurried pardons alongside Akko, Jasminka, and Sucy. “Thank god you’re alright!” Immediately, Diana threw herself into her roommates arms, and was welcomed with a shared tight grip from both Hannah and Barbara. </p><p> </p><p>Meanwhile, Jasminka, having spotted Amanda and Constanze both splattered with blood, charged over and shook Amanda by the shoulder. “Are you ok!? You’re bleeding!” Constanze surprisedly jumped back, not feeling up to any more touching for at least a few minutes. </p><p> </p><p>“Aahhh! I’m alright Jas, chill!” Amanda held up her palms flatly in defence, but that wouldn’t stop her back from being nearly broken by the weight of the hug that followed. Jasminka was speaking in Russian, and Amanda had no idea what she was saying as most of it was done in a sob. “J-J… JAS! ACH! I’m… not wounded yet, but if you keep this up, I’ll need a… fff-fucking stretcher!” Constanze weighed in for aid by at least doing her best to pry Jasminka’s crushing arms off of Amanda with a crowbar. Sadly, the crowbar only bent out of shape in the attempt. </p><p> </p><p>“Diana!” Hannah and Barbara both yelled in pure relief. Hannah pulled her head away just for a moment to check on their peer-role-model. “Oh my god, you look terrible! Did something hurt you? Are you alright?” </p><p> </p><p>Diana swallowed her pride. “No, no I just woke up like this…. Honestly.” Minus the light splatterings of blood of course. She then continued to clarify as to take the subject away from her own state. “We ran into some of the… well, I don’t know what to call them. The attackers; they came at us and forced us to run.” Diana reburied her head in Hannah and Barbara’s hug, breathing very deliberately. </p><p> </p><p>Akko, frightened, but furious more so, added on. “We couldn’t save them all.” Bitterness filled her voice as she raised her wand wielding hand up to examine it. “I tried, we all did, but there’s just too many of them!” Akko stomped the ground once, knowing not what else to do with her frustration, and clenched her eyes as tightly as she did the wand in her hand. </p><p> </p><p>Sucy held Akko steady with her hands resting on Akko’s forearms. “We did what we could. For now. Stay focused and stay calm. We’ll regroup and get a plan together.” It served to allow Akko to redirect her energy for a time at least.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda, now released, almost collapsed if it weren’t for Constanze holding her up from behind, loathing every moment of it. “Jasminka. Don’t… kill… friends.” Constanze struggled under Amanda’s weight. “Please?” Until finally Amanda got a hold of herself and filled her lungs with much needed air. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, please!” Amanda asked as if at her wits end.</p><p> </p><p>“Amanda.” Sucy intoned more urgently. “Where’s Ibrahim? The others?” She leaned in over Akko’s shoulder with one wide eye, her full attention given. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda shook her head and blew a heavy bit of air. “Didn’t make it…. That….” Amanda paused, catching herself before she revealed the identity of the attackers; she still wasn’t certain about Constanze’s likely reaction. For now, she would hide that fact and assume Constanze didn’t know it already, which just so happened to be the case. “The knights, a bunch of ‘em came and had us surrounded up there. I was the fastest rider so, yeah…. He sent me down here to try and get things together; mount a defence.”</p><p> </p><p>Sucy turned her head down, showing hints of sadness that even she wasn’t quite sure of how to handle. “Ah.” She remarked perfunctorily. Ibrahim and her weren’t close, and none of the other Antiquarians had known her outside of name, but it still was disheartening to hear of their presumed demise. “Well, I trust you. If it means anything….” Her words and train of thought trailed off into a fuzzy cloud of mixed ideas. </p><p> </p><p>Before Sucy could find her words though, Akko intervened and spoke above all the others. “Well if we’re gonna come up with a plan then we need to do it now!” Her fists were tight and raised up to head level. She was full of that signature determination and impatience which marked her younger days at the academy; though if there was ever a time for impatience, it was now. “Like, right now!”</p><p> </p><p>Sucy sighed as she waved her hands calmingly at the group, having been snapped back to attention by Akko’s call for action. “Yes, and we’ll get to that, but we can’t just make up something on the fly and hope it works.” Her head shot around then at a distant voice. </p><p> </p><p>“Close it up! That’s the last group for now!” An Antiquarian from outside of the Sanctum hollered down. “We’ll signal if more come!”</p><p> </p><p>Sure enough, the rest of the group turned to see that a final group of wounded witches, one in such dreadful condition that they were being rushed into the olden dormitories by two Antiquarians, a troll plumber, and Professor Babcock. The student’s left hand, or where her hand should have been, was held close to the chest, wrapped in heavy cloth. Their sobs of pain were harrowing and there was quite a bit of blood.</p><p> </p><p>The group’s eyes then pulled back to the center, with Akko speaking up again. “There’s no way that was everyone else! We have to get out there!”</p><p> </p><p>“Akko, we’ll just end up getting taken ourselves!” Diana snapped. There was a tough love that needed to be dealt here; Akko’s idealism was always cherished by the Cavendish heir apparent, but now was not the time or place for it. “Without a plan, we’re all as good as dead.” Dead; that word hung in the air for most of them, but unintentionally, it struck Diana the most, even if she was the one to have spoken it. It just rolled off of her tongue naturally, as it was correct to say, but when faced with the terrible knowledge of Chariot’s own possible death, it shook Diana to her core. </p><p> </p><p>Diana redoubled her stone cold self with further declarations. “We should take a few minutes to plan, tend to our wounds, and convene with the Antiquarians and professors afterwards. It would be the height of foolishness to rush out there expecting anything else but defeat.” When it came down to it, Diana was quite apt at issuing commands, she just loathed having to be put in such situations near constantly; she was growing more weary of her already heavy load of responsibilities by the day. </p><p> </p><p>Hannah, mercifully, decided to lend her voice to that organizing effort. “Let's get everything clear then! Who’s wounded enough to need a quick patch up? Raise your hand!” The two latter sentences hardly had any time between them with Hannah’s quickened speaking. Jasminka, Akko, Amanda, and Constanze all raised their hands at first, followed by Barbara sheepishly raising her own. Luckily, none of those wounds were terrible, but they warranted being looked at nonetheless.</p><p> </p><p>Hannah continued after clapping her hands together once. “Alright! We’ll focus better in smaller groups: Akko, Jasminka, Diana, you three go handle each other’s stuff and get thinking while you’re at it! Same for you three!” She pointed to Amanda, Constanze, and Sucy. “And I’ll stay with Barbara.” Hannah thumbed to herself. </p><p> </p><p>“Why not just…” Barbara began objectionably, but when met by Hannah’s stern face, which, while not necessarily meant to squelch anyone, ended up having that effect on Barbara. “Nevermind….”</p><p> </p><p>“Oi, Hannah, Babs, why split the trio up?” Amanda leaned in a tad when speaking, raising a brow. </p><p> </p><p>“Wha—I didn’t—Look, it was coincidence!” Hannah upturned her nose; she spoke the truth. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda relented, sensing that truthfulness and raised a hand in response. “Alright, alright. Sorry. Didn’t mean to come off as bitchy.” She was quick to snuff that argument before it began. “I’ll drop by after I’m all good though.” Amanda wanted that, at the least; things were looking dire, and she wasn’t about to chance not having said proper goodbyes and I-love-yous to either of them.</p><p> </p><p>Jasminka cleared her throat. “Amanda, I’m not trying to be rude….”</p><p> </p><p>But Constanze was. “Relationship problems later.” She said flatly. “Crisis situation. Not the time.”</p><p> </p><p>Hannah, Barbara, and Amanda all turned their heads in another direction. “Right!” Hannah remarked with a good deal of apprehension. “So… break!” She then hurriedly dragged Barbara along by the hand to be treated in the empty lounge to escape the awkwardness in the air. </p><p> </p><p>“Why are you always pulling me!?” Barbara said loud enough to be heard faintly as she went along with her more noble girlfriend. </p><p> </p><p>Diana sighed with three of her fingers pressed against her forehead. “I suppose that’s that then. Follow me, Akko, Jasminka.” The three of them made for the back rooms of the dormitory wing, squeezing past a few rushed students and fae. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze, Amanda, and Sucy, now left alone, simply shrugged at one another. Amanda then santched up her stolen sword from the floor and gestured to Constanze who led them along the same route as the previous group; to a different room of course.  </p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>“Well, shit.” Amanda held her lips shut for the moment that followed her words as Sucy pulled out yet another bit of glass from her exposed right arm that had gone unnoticed until now. “Kinda hard to come with a plan when you don’t even know where to start.” She was sitting on the old bedding the room came with; it was surprisingly comfortable. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze, from behind and with tweezers in hand, aided Sucy in beridding Amanda of her shrapnel, having raised Amanda’s shirt and coat up over her head. “Mmm….” Constanze grumbled with shared uncertainty. “We started already. Kind of.” </p><p> </p><p>“It won’t be easy to—” Sucy started, but paused as she magicked out a particularly gnarly looking piece of glass from her bicep. “Get back out there.” She concluded as the piece was removed.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda, after a few quick breaths, shivered and spoke. “Y-Yeah, I don’t think it’s really safe anywhere outside anymore. No way you’d have enough time to get that flaming scrap heap working.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze squinted slightly and peered over Amanda’s shoulder, snipping the tweezers near her cheek as she spoke. “Limited resources. Did what I could.”</p><p> </p><p>“What? I ain’t complaining. Just stating facts.” Amanda rolled her shoulders warrily. “Alright, that hurts less…. We done yet?” A few more awkward sharp pains answered her, alongside Sucy. </p><p> </p><p>“Now we are.” Sucy dropped the collected ball of little glass fragments into one of the ruined desk drawers; it was as good enough a waste bin as any given the age of the place. “Quick question: You have the mithril piece, right?” Constanze set aside her tweezer, dug into her pack, and produced the aforementioned drill head. Sucy nodded. “Good. That might be enough all on its own.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze cocked her head back and to the right. “Mmm?” She grunted in question, clearly asking: <em> “How?” </em> </p><p> </p><p>“It was pretty damaged looking.” Amanda posited. “Just need… I dunno, a good kick? Like, just get some good force behind it and mash it. You know.” Though lacking a very technical vocabulary, Amanda’s statements got their point across. </p><p> </p><p>“We need speed.” Constanze nodded in agreement. “It could work. Need a very, <em> very </em> fast broom. Something to fasten it too….” Constanze ran through the logistics of what that would look like and cringed. “Not a good idea to use a broom. But what else?” </p><p> </p><p>Sucy tapped at her chin with her wand as she leaned back. A bit of humming and hawing filled the air while Amanda pulled her clothes back down prematurely. Constanze chided her with a groan and forced the clothing back up so she could get to work putting ointments and what healing magic she knew to work. After a minute or so’s quiet, Sucy jutted a finger in Amanda’s direction. “Oi. O’Neill.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oi. Manbavaran.” Amanda twitched at a particular wound being touched. </p><p> </p><p>“Your bike.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda blinked like someone just told her she owed them a million dollars. “Pardon?”</p><p> </p><p>“You heard me.” Sucy’s eyes closed just a hair more in impatience. “We get to your bike, Constanze fixes the drill head to it, and we use that to smash open the dome. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda, again, blinked. Then her posture became rigid as she waved her hands in complete denial. “Oh no, no, no, no. You guys are <em> not </em> thinking of using <em> my </em> bike for—” Amanda stopped when she was met by equally critical and intense stares from Constanze and Sucy as they sat side by side. “Ok, yeah, if there’s <em> no other option </em> I guess I’ll just have to… make some sacrifices.” Amanda felt her voice crack and coughed into the side of her fist to mask it. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re hopeless sometimes, you know that right?” Sucy slowly shook her head. </p><p> </p><p>“L-Look! Me and that bike have been through a lot together….” Amanda lied at first. “Ahhh, fine!” She relented, finally, with a wave of her left arm. “But if we’re going to use it, that kinda makes me one of the guaranteed people that needs to break out.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze queried with a slow and unsure way to her speech. “Why… wouldn’t you… be?” </p><p> </p><p>Sucy filled in the blanks with a sigh. “I doubt we’ll be able to just send every one of us out. We don’t even know how the dome will break; maybe it only opens for a few seconds, or maybe the hole will be too small.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze gripped her chin in thought. “The former is more likely. Most magic shields are like liquid. Small damage gets repaired when it reforms.” She ran a few off the cuff calculations in her head based on the visual memory she had of the wound made in the dome. It was certainly big enough to fit the bike when it gave way, but in terms of how long it would stay open, Constanze could only guess it to be anywhere between fifteen to five seconds. “Best to send only the bike.” She concluded. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda, now relieved of her pains and wounds, fixed her clothes up as she added her two cents. “Ok, so if we’re just sending the bike, then you guys are pretty much stuck with me at the helm…. Unless any of you can actually drive one.” Amanda looked to them expectantly. They both shared a shrug and look between each other. “And what about the others?” Then they shrugged again and shook their heads. </p><p> </p><p>Sucy drolly spoke. “Why drive a car or bike when we have brooms. Especially you, Amanda; don’t you love flying?”</p><p> </p><p>“I do! I just also like motorcycles.” Amanda crossed her arms, feeling she didn’t need to explain it any further. </p><p> </p><p>Instead, Constanze explained it for her. “Aesthetics.” Though she said no more, the explanation brought on a whole host of implications for both Amanda and Sucy which had the former giving Constanze the stink-eye and the latter chuckling very slightly. “Not an insult…. Mostly.” Constanze half smiled, her eyes wandering up to meet Amanda’s. “Besides. I want to go with you. Stay with you.” A raised thumb showed her appreciation, “Mhm.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda couldn’t help but smile by infection; Akko smiled all the time, and it spread to everyone, but Constanze seldom smiled, and that made hers just as easy to spread. “Yeah, we do make a pretty good team don’t we?” They hadn’t formerly practiced anything, but even after that brief skirmish in the hallways, Amanda could tell they had some unexpected synergy in a scrap. Amanda’s smile only faltered when she thought more on that fact, her mind having thought of Ludinghal and that man, Nikolai. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze widened her eyes just a tad. “You alright?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” Amanda lied again, this time for more legitimate reasons. She was glad to have agreed to help Constanze in taking on her vengeful quest, but now, when push came to shove, Amanda was having doubts. Her hesitation lay not in ability, not wholly at least, but in Constanze’s state of mind. Now still didn’t seem like the right time to unveil it, but Amanda couldn’t avoid it forever; that she knew for certain. “We just need to be a better team if we want to win this.” It was a cop out statement, but still genuine. </p><p> </p><p>Sucy and Constanze both hummed and nodded in agreement, though Sucy spoke first. “On the bright side, if you two are strong enough to help us take this on, then I can’t imagine those monsters that ruined Ludinghal will stand a chance.” Amanda bit her tongue, literally. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze grimly agreed with a grunt before speaking. “Mmmhmm…. Have to survive. Have to push through, if only… no.” Constanze stopped herself; she had more reasons to live beyond vengeance. “But I have to survive to make it.” Constanze reached out to Amanda and held her hand, having grabbed it with slight force. “Never thanked you.” She held it somewhat awkwardly and shook it. “Means the world. And more.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda allowed herself to be pulled in, even as guilt began to bubble acridly in her belly. “Don’t mention it.” Amanda smiled uneasily, her head turned to the side. “What kinda friend would I be if I turned ya down?” She moved her gaze back to meet Constanze’s own and put on some of that good ol’ faux confidence. “We’ll kick ass from here to Beijing and back if that’s what it takes.” Though Amanda didn’t feel very keen on visiting <em> every </em> nation in between “here and Beijing:” She was possibly wanted for destruction of private property in Luxembourg, though she would swear up and down until the grave that it was necessary to contain that wyvern. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze took the proverbial bait and accepted Amanda’s commitment, which to her credit wasn’t much of a lie as it was a distraction from discussing Ludinghal. Another shake of the hand ended awkwardly with Constanze’s enthusiasm dying out. “Problem.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm?” Sucy turned away from her own bruises she was tending to. </p><p> </p><p>“What’s the plan when we get out.” Constanze asked. </p><p> </p><p>“Ahh….” Sucy began. “That’s…. Let’s wait to see if any of the others have an idea. They should be ready soon.” Sucy rolled her head from one shoulder to the other. “We should have a few minutes though.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda sighed and stood up. “Then I better go see Hannah and Barbara.” Her expression solidified; she’d do what she felt was right by them. </p><p> </p><p>“Say what you need to. Don’t take too long.” Constanze remarked with finality only to add another rushed statement. “And remember.” Amanda glanced curiously at that as she heard Constanze dig something out from her pockets. “I promised I’d talk to you today. Let’s reschedule that. Maybe we can help each other out.” The held up paper said, having been scribbled on in haste by Constanze.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda smirked. “Course. Maybe if this plan works, we’ll have a bit of time to… well, whatever it is you wanted to work out.” She stood in the doorframe then with one hand gently grabbing at the frame. “I won’t be long, but they need to hear a few things from me. Gotta say some goodbyes…. You know.” The hand on the door frame moved to rub the back of her head as that faux confidence from earlier slowly faded, allowing weakness to shine through. </p><p> </p><p>Sucy stood and offered a gentle pat on the back. “If it helps, I think we’ll survive this.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda scoffed. “Well gee, I guess if sour-puss-Sucy thinks things will turn out alright then it must be true.” She chuckled a bit after. </p><p> </p><p>Sucy allowed it, though she rolled her eyes. “I’m serious. I trust you, Amanda.” She said it earlier, but the context perhaps didn’t convey how much she meant it. Sure, Amanda was a bullheaded, cocky, foul mouthed, and generally crude woman, but she cared more than most about the things and people she loved or stood for. Sucy respected that wholly, and respected Amanda more in light of all that’s happened. Sucy didn’t think Amanda would change, not in the ways Amanda thought she needed to, but Sucy also didn’t want Amanda to change that way either. “And you’re a good friend. I hope we’ll see each other again.” Her monotone betrayed the genuine mirth that came with the message. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda’s cheeks flushed faintly and she took up her stolen sword from the side of the room as Sucy spoke. Afterward, Amanda remarked: “I really appreciate you too. All of you guys. Feels like I’m comin’ home every time I touch down in England, you know?” She turned around, sword resting flatly on her shoulder, the tip pointed away behind her. “And I ain’t about to give up my home to some freaky lookin’ S.O.Bs!” Amanda nodded resolutely; it had taken years of time apart from it in some respect, but Amanda knew it to be true: Luna Nova was her home. <em> “Guess that makes all of them family.” </em>She held back the words, if only in the interest of time.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze held her left hand gently to her chest. “Agreed.” She felt unsure before, but even with Ludinghal’s destruction and the death of her family, Constanze knew this place was always going to be the place her mind would come back to when she thought of peace and comfort; of love, like the one sitting right beside her. “Go on.” Constanze urged, for both of their sakes. “They’re waiting for you.” Constanze presumed, but it seemed to make Amanda feel better all the same as she nodded and left the room, confident in her stride. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze and Sucy were alone, and while they didn’t have long to pine or get sappy over one another, Constanze had to reckon with a few thoughts. “Sucy… I wanted to… talk…. Can we…?” Or that was the hope at least. Now was <em> not </em> the time for cold feet. Where spoken words failed her, she went to written ones, but her pen simply pressed against the page and remained rigidly stationary.</p><p> </p><p>Sucy, perceptive and empathic as ever, caught on immediately to Constanze’s aim. “Amalie.” The namedrop quieted Constanze’s uneased humming and had her setting the pen and paper aside; she was mystified, more so than usual, with her <em> “queen of questionable chemicals,” </em> as she so wistfully titled Sucy a few days prior. Sucy continued: “I’ll be ready when you’re ready. I’m very patient, and I don’t want to rush anything or say anything we might regret if the worst happens.” </p><p> </p><p>Cannonballs materialized in the pits of Constanze’s gut. “So… you mean you…?” Constanze held her hands close to her form, taking on a very defensive and curled posture as she sat on the old bed. She of course knew Sucy wasn’t going to hurt her, regardless of her answer, but she felt a natural inclination to hide herself away. </p><p> </p><p>Sucy frowned, plainly seeing her dearest friend’s discomfort. “Mmmm….” She offered a hand and laid it down on the bed in front of Constanze to take should she want to. Sure enough, Constanze reached out carefully and took it with both of her smaller hands, allowing Sucy to rub her fingers along her friends’ knuckles as she always did when they had heart-to-hearts like this. A brief few moments passed before Sucy worked the words from her lips. “When this over, when you feel it's right, we can—” </p><p> </p><p>Sucy grunted and shifted slightly on the bed as she was tackled in a lurching hug. “Mmm… heh.” Sucy returned the favor, allowing them both a brief respite as they held another in their arms, awaiting the time of the meeting. “I’m glad you agree.” The hug was enough of an indicator for Sucy, and so she allowed silence to grace their ears.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze, having quite literally thrown herself at Sucy, felt both weightless and immensely heavy. Her limbs could not be moved from around Sucy’s lithe form but her thoughts were adrift and immersed in a sweet sea of serotonin. To speak now brought a sort of taste in her throat, like that of sweets, and to breathe meant to do so sharply and with a shiver. For all her trembling, Constanze felt calm, as there was no safer place than where she was right now: In Sucy’s arms. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>“It’s just a bruise, Akko.” Diana grumbled, her voice half muffled by the straw filled pillow her head was rested on. The majority of her more severe aches or bruises had been cared for, as had Jasminka and Akko’s, so now it was Diana’s turn to get looked over. </p><p> </p><p>“And it could be worse than you think! What if it’s internal bleeding!?” Akko tried again to cast the proper healing spell and got it right this time; after three prior flubbed attempts. </p><p> </p><p>“It would have looked more swollen and darker. Honestly, you worry too much over me.” Diana let her face fully fall flat into the pillow, allowing her dull aching head to have the most slight of reliefs. Were it not for the slow rise of panic in her blood, Diana would have been liable to pass out then and there. And if the headache weren’t enough, Diana could feel something raw in her gut, as though she’d eaten bad food.</p><p> </p><p>“No need to seem ungrateful, Diana.” Jasminka toyed. “In times like this we need to rely on our loved ones the most.” Though simple and self evident, the statement was no less grounding; it was what Jasminka excelled at, caring for others. “Speaking of, we really should start putting our heads together!”</p><p> </p><p>“Mhm!” Akko nodded with as much as enthusiasm as would be expected from her; the motion almost qualifying as a curt bow. “We need to think of a way to beat those weirdos and save all those witches!” </p><p> </p><p>Diana turned her head just enough to have her mouth not be blocked by the pillow, letting herself be better heard. “I don’t think we can win this fight relying on pure strength alone, Akko. We’re woefully outnumbered and surrounded.” A slow hand was brought up to Diana’s temple to clutch it as she groaned in minor pain. “I’m… no battle tactician, but I think it’s plain to see that we’ll lose if we take them head on.”</p><p> </p><p>Jasminka hummed thoughtfully and leaned back in the creaky chair she’d taken a seat in. “Could they be drawn into the labyrinth? The professors and Antiquarians were saying it’s safe for us but would be very dangerous for anyone else…. I know Amanda, Constanze, Hannah, and Barbara had some weird experiences down there, but maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to go deeper?” </p><p> </p><p>Akko folded her arms across her chest angrily, not at Jasminka, but at the situation. Her posture became more upright as she sat on the bed beside Diana and spoke. “Even if that works, what about all the students they kidnapped!” Akko tried not to think about the ones that were dead.</p><p> </p><p>Diana took slow and methodical breathes, considering that particular issue with great care. “First… we should… consider why they’re even kidnapping student’s to begin with.” An abrupt cause had Diana thinking on what she saw; the attackers were too varied in form and shape to have come of their own accord, but the most consistent of their foes seemed to be those silver knights. “Could those… knights be their leaders?”</p><p> </p><p>Jasminka furrowed her brow and conjured up the images of those same knights. She didn’t catch the best glimpses of them, but she could have sworn she saw one with its helmet off. The fangs, the paleness, the sunken eyes, and those elfin ears. “Вампир….” Jasminka laced her fingers together in front of her mouth as her thoughts drifted to stories she heard of as a child. </p><p> </p><p>Akko, having picked up the most basic bits of Russian from Jasminka, repeated the word in parts. “Ва… мпир.” Then again, but more completely. “Вампир…. Ghouls?” Akko certainly did see undead among the crowds of foes, but ghoul didn’t seem like the right term. </p><p> </p><p>“Vampires.” Diana corrected, having taken an educated guess. “If vampires are at the helm of this… then….” Diana sighed, her headache having disrupted her thoughts. “Akko, some ice, please.” Akko did as asked, willing a baggy of ice cubes into existence with a little twirl of the wand. “<em> Much </em> better.” Diana secured the ice to her head, still unsatisfied with that queasiness in her belly, but she could live with it. “As I was saying,” Diana cleared her throat. “If vampires are leading this attack, then it must be the case that most of the magical creatures are being mind controlled by them.”</p><p> </p><p>Jasminka shook her head. “My бабушка,” she paused to mind her lapses in Russian, “My grandmother told me many, many stories about things like vampires. A lot of the stories are just that, stories.” Her diction became more intentional and serious. “Vampires can only control other humans, but not witches or other people who use magic.”</p><p> </p><p>She seemed surprisingly knowledgeable on an otherwise “rare” creature of the magical world. “Where’d you learn that?” Akko asked. </p><p> </p><p>“And why not witches?” Diana too raised her head to listen to Jasminka’s explanation. </p><p> </p><p>“You’d be surprised how much more common they are in Russia, Ukraine; more snowy and northern parts of Europe and Asia.” Jasminka needed to learn about vampires, of course, for just that reason. No village that held to the old ways, of witching or “pagan” practices, could survive without the passed down knowledge of the mystically varied beings that wandered the snowy vastness of Russia and beyond; so much of it was sparsely populated and untouched by mankind that some of the most primordial magical beings dwelled there, just out of sight. </p><p> </p><p>“There’s a lot less sunlight, especially near the most northern edges, near the poles. And people usually get snowed in during blizzards; that’s when they hunt. Nowhere to run.” Jasminka shivered, having been pulled briefly back to her days as a child being taught the scarier lessons of life. The stories still stuck with her, and she’d heed their wisdom well. </p><p> </p><p>Diana’s eyes partially widened, having never spoken much with Jasminka on the topic of her home country nor her childhood. Come to think of it, she hadn’t really heard Jasminka speak to <em> anyone </em> about those sorts of things, save minor references to being a daughter of a farmer. That seemed neither hear nor there though, in the grander scope, so Diana brought her thoughts back to the immediate issues. “So, assuming they are vampires, then most of those beings fighting alongside them must be controlled by some other force. The only thing that would make sense then would be that those shadowy witches led the vampires here and supplied them an army, unless this is all truly one big coincidence.” They all found that to be highly unlikely.</p><p> </p><p>“And those witches must be really strong…. We really are doomed then.” Akko lamented gloomly; her optimism had limits. </p><p> </p><p>Diana flipped over enough to look at Akko directly and lent a hand to lay on her lap. “Now Akko, when have you ever given up on anything you fought for?” </p><p> </p><p>Akko hummed sorrowfully for a moment before shaking her head. “I don’t know….”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s because you haven’t. So come now, look at me.” Diana reassured Akko with a squeeze of the thigh with her hand, and it brought Akko’s eyes to focus more on Diana. “If we can’t face them head on, we’ll have to fight smart, and more so, we’ll need to get help.” </p><p> </p><p>“Lotte!” Jasminka suddenly blurted out. “If we can escape from the dome, someone can go find Lotte and get her help!” Jasminka realized then the slight absurdity in thinking just one witch would be enough. “And… and…. There must be other witches we can call on! It wouldn’t be the first time in history when covens had to unite to stand against a greater threat.” </p><p> </p><p>Akko could see it; that imagined sight of a small army of witches from all banners and creeds riding in to save Luna Nova. While idealistic, Akko knew the value of romantic imagery lay in spurring the people to action that their dreams might come close to reality. “And those Antiquarian guys said they were a worldwide organization! They must have tons of witches who would be willing to help!”</p><p> </p><p>Diana, while similarly inspired by such a thought, had more inside knowledge on the state and politics of the witching worlds. “Sadly… I don’t know if it would be that easy.” Jasminka and Akko’s eyes fell to Diana, the two former witches having swallowed nervously. “For nearly one hundered and twenty four years, magic was declining at an alarming rate…. And it has only returned for five. So much has changed, but so much is still the same.” Diana shook her head as she rose to a sitting position. “Families like mine are an… outlier, in how brazenly we advertise ourselves as a noble family of witches. So many others hide it, and some covens have been so well isolated as to be possibly extinct for decades. We’d never know until we found them again, or until they decided to reveal themselves.”</p><p> </p><p>Akko couldn’t hold back her frustration at that fact. “That’s stupid!” She leaned in, her face fraught with misdirected aggression. “We nearly died up in space to save magic! To save the world! And after all those years of probably just waiting around for it all to slip away, they won’t even come help us!? It’s not like any nation’s government would help us either! Those bastards would probably just bomb the whole thing and call it a day!” Akko started to rant, but Diana caught her in that spiral with a trademark Cavendish leer. </p><p> </p><p>“Akko!” Diana chided correctorily. “Witches have been persecuted long past the witch trials that ran rampant over Europe, and that’s to say nothing of the perilous histories on other continents.” Diana then soothed her own voice to a lower volume, knowing there was no need to spark an argument. “I don’t mean to upset you, and I understand your anger, but it isn’t that they would <em> not </em> help us, it is that they don’t <em> know </em> we need help…. And they aren’t exactly easy to be contacted by those outside of their trusted circles.” Akko sighed long and heavily, drawing it out in a slight fit before she buried her face in her hands, wiping her cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>Jasminka too seemed quite upset by this and spoke with a more measured bit of impatience. “We don’t have time to go searching for help like that though! Time is the one thing we have the least of!”</p><p> </p><p>“THAT’S IT!” Akko suddenly sprang up from her hunched over form. “TIME!” Her volume had Jasminka jumping back and Diana clutching her ears. “WE CAN USE THE HOLOGARIUM TO RESET THE DAY!”</p><p> </p><p>“A-Akko! Volume!” Diana’s headache wasn’t immune to agitation just because she had some ice, after all. </p><p> </p><p>“S-Sorry!” Akko squeaked. “What about my idea though!? It could totally work, right?” Akko’s mood often rebounded like living rubber; so often that others stopped questioning it. </p><p> </p><p>While Diana was still stunned from the shout and aided by Akko who rubbed at her back apologetically, Jasminka pondered the tricky question of time. “Well… if we had it repeat the day like we did last time we used it, then maybe we’d be able to get people out faster….”</p><p> </p><p>“Ugh…. Not fast enough, by my estimation.” Diana shook her head slowly, roused back to reason in part by the massaging on her back. “If Constanze was outside testing her machine just minutes before this attack began, and if it didn’t even fully pierce the shield, we’d need several hours more time. We cannot just will that time into existence, and I doubt her machine could be assembled any quicker.” </p><p> </p><p>“So….” Jasminka began hesitantly. “What if we… froze time?” Her posture shifted to the wide, her shoulders slightly raised, and one of her eyes was shut; she was about as unsure as could be. Akko and Diana both slowed their movements, each taking time to contemplate it while Jasminka elaborated. “The effects of the Hologarium wouldn’t extend past the dome, I mean. So, if we were able to stop time, and someone was able to escape, then they could go get help from… somewhere.” Jasminka’s voice grew more confident as the pieces fell into place. </p><p> </p><p>Diana tapped at her chin, her eyes now closed in thought. “Theoretically speaking, yes, that would make sense…. If portal based magic cannot connect this portion of reality to another when cast inside of the dome, then the dome itself must be a sort of barrier in time and space itself. It likely is embedded on all axes of reality.” </p><p> </p><p>Akko, looking as though she was thinking with every cell in her body, hummed loudly. “So… we stop time after someone escapes…. But what if they can’t?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, someone will have to notice that something’s wrong eventually, right?” Jasminka added. “Perhaps The Council of Nine will realise they haven’t heard back from Ibrahim and the Antiquarians in a while, so they’ll send more help to check on things.” There was no harm to be found in the plan itself; both ways, escape or not, Luna Nova would stand a far much greater chance of surviving this ordeal. </p><p> </p><p>Akko hummed louder still, having held her breath up until the point that she burst out a sigh. “It’ll have to work.” She was at her wits end, and despite all the teasing she got, she was quite clever when she needed to be. </p><p> </p><p>Diana simply nodded twice. “That it will. I can think of no safer option.” Finally, Diana could avoid the subject no further. “We should ask Chariot though; if she’s seen the future—”</p><p> </p><p>“So she did know this would happen! Then why didn’t she—” Akko interrupted, but was quieted by a held up finger. </p><p> </p><p>“Chariot may or may not have seen any number of events. Scrying the future is extremely difficult….” Diana swallowed her worst of fears. “And extremely dangerous.” That pain in her gut felt like it was swelling, and Diana too suppressed that; she had to think about this logically and calmly, as always. Diana would come to regret this decision in time. “It’s why she could not speak of those events directly. We lack the time for me to teach you the finer points of it, but generally speaking, when someone reads into the future, they are not presented with certainties, but <em> likelihoods </em>. And, should someone then take certain actions in the present, those likelihoods become certainties.” Diana couldn’t bring herself to mention Chariot’s death directly, but she knew Akko understood, even if that had Jasminka blankly staring between the two, lost on what to say. </p><p> </p><p>“That makes sense…. I just don’t get why she had to talk so weird and avoid us like that.” Akko frowned. “It was like she was Ursula again… but with riddles.” Akko may have loved Ursula for the time she knew her, but when it was revealed Ursula was Chariot, and when Chariot actually started acting like herself, Akko was smitten, in a sense. She’d never want to see her friend and mentor go back to her old ways of hyper reclusion and misdirection. </p><p> </p><p>Diana uttered a few syllables here and there to begin a sentence, but stumbled four times before she managed to actually get the right string of thoughts together. “If you see your own death, Akko, and inform another of it, then that fate will be guaranteed, in one way or another.” Her tone was drowned in resigned depression. “That’s what I realized that… had me….” She was feeling faint again even as she spoke of it, but was far more resilient now that she had come to accept some of that knowledge as unavoidable fact.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Saw her own death?” Jasminka covered her mouth gently with both hands. “Ohhhh…. Chariot….” Jasminka could feel herself nearly being brought to tears. </p><p> </p><p>“No!” Akko yelled in defiance. “I mean, I don’t doubt you, but we’re not going to let it happen! Chariot won’t die on my watch! Or anyone’s watch! I don’t even own a watch!” There was nothing poetically smooth about her declaration, as was the case for almost anything Akko said. “She’s not dying to vampires, to zombies, to manticores, cockatrices, dragons, NOTHING! Chariot’s going to live through this!” Akko, having earned both Jasminka and Diana’s staring, grabbed Diana by the shoulders. “And we’re going to make sure that happens together! No crying, no grieving, just us being the best damn witches we can be while saving the day!” Akko’s face had an intensity that Diana had seen only one other time; up high above the Earth, bearing down on a mad-missile. That sparkle in her eye was not of joy, but of passion, like a burning star aeons away.</p><p> </p><p>Diana herself felt convinced by every word, such was Akko’s powerful charisma. Diana had to agree. “Of course, Akko.” Her lips trembled between something of a hopeful smile, a nervous frown, and a loving grin; all three of those made a vulnerable expression, one where all the muscles in Diana’s face eventually relaxed. It was a face that said <em> “This is why I fell in love with you,” </em> for Akko allowed Diana to experience the grim while remaining galliant; an idealism that superseded reason and just <em> worked </em>, time and time again.</p><p> </p><p>Jasminka, still unsure of exactly what to say next, offered a few words to try and refocus the group. “You can always go see her. I’m certain she’s down in the deeper parts of the sanctum! A-And maybe she can help us with our plan to activate the Hologarium!” She too was infected by the all powerful optimism that radiated from Akko, and so the plan was decided. </p><p> </p><p>“It is settled then. We’ll meet with the others and inform them of our plan. Based on their own ideas, we should be able to come up with a solid stratagem that will see us all through this disaster. We’ll rescue every last witch we can and show the world that Luna Nova will never fall.” Diana, impassioned by her lover and naturally a good orator, declared. “Agreed?”</p><p> </p><p>“Agreed!” Akko and Jasminka both exclaimed. </p><p> </p><p>The words came to Diana easily, and even as she felt confident in that moment, she knew it to be fleeting. That gnawing in her gut wasn’t physical, and her mind continued to assume the worst. <em> “Follow the plan, stick together, and everything will turn out well.” </em> She mantrad internally to silence the other thoughts, but to no avail. </p><p> </p><p>Diana refused to heed the warnings she’d been given days in advance. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>Hannah and Barbara were both seated in silence within the dusty longue of the Sanctum. Hannah had finished cleaning up Barbara’s minor wounds several minutes ago, and that too had been done with almost no words shared between each other. </p><p> </p><p>Hannah, with her head held in her hands while slouched over, sat across from Barbara in one of the ancient stone chairs that melded with the ground. She had words, or at least she thought she did, but Hannah couldn’t make much sense of things at the moment; not anything important at least. Particularly, Hannah felt like she should have had some sort of epiphany right now about a plan or action the defenders could take, but nothing came. At least the stone chair was comfortable, likely by way of enchantment which changed how it felt to the touch. </p><p> </p><p>Barbara meanwhile wanted nothing to do or say with what was happening. Her very expression said as much. <em> “This is not happening.” </em>She had to tell herself, clichely, just to prevent a lapse in judgement that would leave her completely stunned with fear. She was certain she’d seen people die that day, that all of her friends and schoolmates had, but Barbara would not call herself a woman of “strong constitution.” She took to crises as well as a square shape might take to a round a hole. Push and shove as much as one may, it would never fit, and Barbara would similarly never adjust. </p><p> </p><p>Barbara felt spineless and worthless amidst all the carnage. Even Jasminka, one of the “softest” women at the academy, was able to steel herself in the face of danger. <em> “I’m just dead weight. If I go with them, they’re going to get killed trying to keep me safe. I can’t do it. I can’t!” </em>Barbara felt her arms and legs quake and tremble. </p><p> </p><p>“Barbara.” Hannah had raised her head up enough to look at her noble lover with all but her eyes behind her own hands. “You’re sweating….” It was a statement that begat the obvious follow up of <em> “can I get you anything?” </em> or something along that vein. Hannah obviously wanted to do whatever she could for Barbara, but she herself felt quite unfit to the task. What was Hannah going to do? Tell her everything was fine? Neither of them worked that way. Akko and maybe Amanda could push past whatever was hitting them and come out swinging, but Hannah and Barbara just had to <em> feel </em> those emotions; escaping them was an impossibility. </p><p> </p><p>“A-Ah.” Barbara swallowed back a lump of fear as she forced her voice to steady. “I’m sorry.” For what, she did not know. </p><p> </p><p>“You don’t need to apologize.” Hannah added. </p><p> </p><p>“S-Sorr….” Barbara began to say it, beginning that terrible loop of apologizing for apologizing, but caught herself by the tongue. Her lips clamped shut. Hannah could only sigh and shake her head, knowing they were both a mess. </p><p> </p><p>A knock against stone had them both perking up then, and Hannah specifically compelled herself to appear more put together; a trick and occasional bad habit she picked up from Diana. Barbara let herself look miserable on the other hand; she had no desire nor saw any reason to put effort into concealing it. “Oi.” Amanda’s voice was unmistakable, and when her visage appeared in the dim doorway, she was smiling, albeit pensively. “Wanted to come check on you two, if you don’t mind.” </p><p> </p><p>Neither of the nobles beckoned her in, though neither objected either, and so Amanda strode over and knelt between the two after having stuck her blade into the floor again. Upon spotting Barbara’s sullenness, Amanda slid over and put her forehead gently against Barbara’s. The two shared some silent moments with eyes locked just inches away from the others. Amanda eventually made her move to plant a soft kiss on her lips before speaking. “I’m here now.” Her voice was a whisper, but Hannah could hear it well in light of the otherwise silent soundscape. </p><p> </p><p>Hannah stood up cautiously, though she knew not why she hesitated. Her body slowly moved beside Amanda’s and knelt down. “We know.” Part of her wanted that to sound comforting, but it came out critically; just the sight of Amanda after having gathered her thoughts on things had her blood pumping with annoyance and anger. She almost didn’t want Amanda around, and Barbara similarly longed for a brief solitude.</p><p> </p><p>“And I’m going to be around more often.” Amanda kept her voice quiet as she gently turned to face Hannah now. “I mean that. No bullshit.” Amanda leaned in to kiss Hannah next, but where Barbara offered little effort, Hannah put force into turning her head away. Amanda pulled back, shocked. “I’m sorry Hannah, I—” A slap across the face cut her short. It hurt emotionally rather than physically, as it wasn’t that vigorous of strike. </p><p> </p><p>“You should be….” Hannah said as her slapping hand balled into a fist and while she turned her head down to hide her tearful eyes. “You should have been sorry a year ago.” A stern anger dominated her tone; the would be floodgates that held back the sorrowful tears. “Four years Amanda…. Four years and…!” When Hannah’s now sobbing face turned up to confront Amanda, she saw that Amanda appeared withdrawn. She was listening, more so than she ever did before, but Amanda too had a tear in her eyes, and Hannah knew it was one of regret. “And we’re just—”</p><p> </p><p>“Miserable.” Barbara chided abrasively. “You’re miserable, Hannah. We’re all miserable.” That quaking and trembling had never left Barbara, nor did her own want or need to cry, but she was beyond done with the stressors of their relationship. “And it’s because Amanda spent too much time on her own damn thrill seeking escapades, and because you don’t do anything but yell at me and her.” Barbara lacked the immediate self awareness to comment on her own unwillingness to confront anything, but that was likely due to the fact that she herself was confronting them now; it wasn’t a pattern that had been broken tonight, but it was certainly a deviation from her own dependency issues. “And even when we might all be about to die, Hannah, you have to go and not just yell at us, but <em> hit </em> us too.” Barbara seethed. </p><p> </p><p>“I-It was… I didn’t—” Hannah lacked an excuse; she knew there was no excuse for striking a lover. </p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t think. You didn’t care. You got mad and lashed out like every other time. I don’t wanna hear it.” Barbara did not look up, but that was for the better. Her stare could have killed a man stone dead, then and there. </p><p> </p><p>“Barbara, I des—” Amanda was unlucky enough to meet that gaze. Those furrowed brows, teeth grit to the point of nearly chipping, reddened at the forehead, and trembling; it put the brief fear of god in Amanda, and it let her know that it was Barbara’s time to talk and for them to listen. On this accursed morning, one way or another, Barbara would be heard. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t even think about justifying it for her. And don’t act like a few hugs and kisses are going to solve things either. This,” Barbara waved flippantly to the air, speaking of the whole situation they were in. “Isn’t your fault. But some of the pain we’ve gone through together was your fault.” Either something changed here and now or Barbara was done with them both, and her tone made that very clear. “You promised us you’d be better…. You didn’t know this would happen.” She spoke to Amanda specifically. “But after all we’ve asked of you, even if Hannah was horrible in how she asked, it took you this long to listen?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda dared not speak, not yet. Every word was another blow to the gut, and she felt she may as well have been verbally boxing with Mike Tyson given how heavy each proverbial blow felt. She wasn’t here to even fight Hannah or Barbara. Amanda realized then how much of a bastard she must have seemed like: Even if she promised them a three month stay-cation, time they could spend together to work things out and bond, it was too late. Any one of them may die today, and no matter what any of them said, there was not going to be closure until the final curtain call; not until their shared survival was assured. </p><p> </p><p>“Well?” Barbara’s words stabbed at the blubbering Hannah and petrified Amanda. “Are you going to say anything?”</p><p> </p><p>Hannah, through tears, forced a few words out. “I didn’t want to hit her! I’m really sorry! I just… I felt like nothing else was getting through! It's been years like you said and Amanda hasn’t—” Barbara’s death glare went for Hannah then, and it was an expression Hannah had not seen on her childhood friends face before. It frightened the nonsensical claims and gaslighting right from her soul. She sobbed openly and heavily. “I’m sorry Amanda…. I’m so, so, sorry.” Her voice was as pathetic as she felt. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda, being unable to sit by while either of her loves cried, instinctively wrapped her right arm around Hannah. “Hey, hey, Hannah….” Quiet consolations would get them nowhere though. “It’s alright, I forgive you, I—” Amanda caught herself before she mistakenly allowed Hannah to “get away with” abuse, no matter how minor a case it was. “Ok I… look, I forgive you, but…. I’m not….” Those voices came back again, and they disagreed. Of <em> course </em> Amanda deserved to be struck. She was a failure, a drop out, a hooligan, and worst of all, a <em> deviant </em>. Amanda had to actively fight those thoughts off to finish her own statement. “Just… never do that again. I mean it. Not to me or to Barbara.” Amanda had to put her foot down, even if it felt so awkwardly wrong to do so at a time when she herself was at fault. </p><p> </p><p>Barbara nodded solemnly. “Better.” She wasn’t immune to emotion in this moment though, so she too found herself pulled into the huddling hug. Her seriousness and intent did not fade or waver though. “Amanda.”</p><p> </p><p>“Y-Yes?” </p><p> </p><p>“I can’t make you change. I can’t make Hannah change…. I don’t know if I can change myself even.” Barbara wasn’t about to leave herself wholly without blame; she was merely ignorant of where to place it in regard to herself. “But if there’s anything you <em> can </em> change, please, just let it be the time you spend with us.” Barbara cried silently, her voice only faltering here and there. </p><p> </p><p>“O-Of course.” Amanda nodded apologetically. “I… please don’t yell at me, but I really am a fucking idiot, alright?” Barbara heeded her ruffian girlfriend’s request in not chastising her for a self directed insult; she’d see where it went for now. “I’m a fucking idiot because I spent way too much time messing around…. I kept saying I love you guys, and… and I do, I love you guys, I always did, but—”</p><p> </p><p>“But?” Barbara asked over Hannah’s continued crying. </p><p> </p><p>“But I didn’t put my damn money where my mouth was. No more fuckin’ around from me.” Amanda pulled her head up and forced her otherwise shaking self to remain steady. “I’m putting all my cards on the table with this relationship now. No more unintended lies, no more screw ups when it matters most, none of that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, then what would you do if we made it out of this?” Barbara found it a bit rich for Amanda to say she wasn’t “putting her money where her mouth was” when all she could do now was offer promises and talk. </p><p> </p><p>“Three months.” Amanda nodded once as a tear went down her cheek. “I’ll never be away from you guys for more than three months. Any longer than that, and you can assume something happened. If something didn’t, then I won’t bother calling. I’ve got one last chance yeah? That’s all I deserve at this point.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not fair!” Hannah said through hyperventilations. “After all I… even….” Hannah sucked in a great big breath and held back the tears for a while, allowing her to speak unimpeded. “You can’t just make some arbitrary standard! That’s not love! This isn’t a job!” Hannah hugged them both tighter. “I just want us to have a normal relationship! Where we can be ourselves, and just… love each other! Call me a hypocrite, I don’t care, but I hate this fighting too! All I want is to run that shop we planned to get and be able to wake up and go to bed beside you two…. That’s all!” Hannah wiped her runny nose on her sleeve. “And I want you to be around because you want to be!” She spoke to Amanda specifically. “Not because you have to be!”</p><p> </p><p>Where Amanda fell quiet into contemplation, Barbara spoke up. “I want that too…. I think she wants it as well.” Barbara brushed her cheek besides Amanda’s during a leaned hug, and allowed herself a fearfully trembled breath to break up her outward abrasiveness. “We just… need… to find the balance.” Barbara felt of course they could just split off, but even when the logical side of her brain came to that conclusion, the rest of herself knew that it wasn’t what she wanted. Perhaps it was her dependency acting up, but Barbara felt she truly wanted and, more importantly, could reasonably conceive of a life where the three of them were happily married and settled. </p><p> </p><p>They would all have to fight for that reality; fight for every inch.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda found her emotional footing again and nodded. “I do too, but I also want to do… well, not what I’ve always done. I need to change, somehow. I do.” The words were like tacks on her tongue, but they needed to be said. “And I will; that’s not an empty promise. I’m going to be there more for you guys, and I’m going to help us work through all of this. And…” Amanda stuttered. “And, I’ll…. I’ll kick the booze habit.”</p><p> </p><p>Barbara raised a brow. “All of it?” Hannah too was intrigued by the veracity of that statement. </p><p> </p><p>“W-Well….” Amanda did her best not to sound like she hadn’t meant it, but she was no expert in policing vices, especially her own; it felt almost antithetical to her rebellious tendencies. “I don’t think it’s wrong for most people to have it once in a while. And I don’t think I have a <em> problem, </em> per say.” Hannah squinted at the statement, causing Amanda to squeeze her hand in reassurance as she clarified. “I mean I don’t think I’m, like, an addict or something. But… but yeah you guys don’t deserve to have to deal with me being tipsy or drunk half of the time we hang out. I wanna nip this thing in the bud before it becomes an addiction, for you guys.”</p><p> </p><p>“And for yourself.” Hannah sniffled.</p><p> </p><p>“And for myself.” Amanda nodded, despite it feeling weird to commit to such a task for her own sake; it felt almost wrong to try and improve outside her casting and riding, and while she didn’t fully understand why, she was pretty confident it was linked back to her family in some way. “So, I’ll only drink when you guys drink, and I’ll watch my intake.” As Nelson would say. “…. When I’m not the designated flyer.” She chuckled a bit at the end as she wiped away a tear. </p><p> </p><p>Hannah smiled and chuckled in turn. “Really?” And when Amanda reaffirmed herself with a nod, she was gifted with a hopeful expression from Hannah. “Thank… you.” </p><p> </p><p>Barbara smiled, though she wasn’t done yet. “Before… we have that meeting, we’re all going to agree on this, ok?” She left out what that agreement was, but Hannah and Barbara were already committed to whatever it was. “Say it with me: We’re going to love each other after this. We’re going to live the lives we always wanted to, but we’re going to do it together. No more abuse and no more unnecessary yelling.” When Barbara finished, she looked expectantly to the other two who repeated as per the request. After all was said, Barbara softened, and allowed herself to cry properly now. “Thank you, both of you.” </p><p> </p><p>The three held each other for a few minutes more, and where Amanda had come to say “goodbyes” she no longer felt it would be right to do so. That would be an admittance she might fail them. That wasn’t an option. Kisses were shared, bodies squeezed, and tears wept until all was perfectly still. Amanda brought them up to stand. “I wish I could sit with you guys like that forever, until everything was alright, but we got work to do.” </p><p> </p><p>Hannah breathed in slowly and exhaled slower. “She’s right. Let’s tell everyone we’re ready and figure things out.” The trio, in concurrence, wiped their faces clean, took each other by the hand, and walked side by side to meet the others. </p><p> </p><p>The two nobles held back any questions about plans Amanda may have made, and where Hannah and Barbara both bristled at the thought of their shared love doing something dangerous after a talk like that, they knew there was likely no better witch to take on the world than <em> Amanda-Freakin-O’Neill. </em></p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>The whole of the Academies elite had been assembled. Professors Lukic, Pisces, Finnelan, Babcock, and Nelson were all in attendance, alongside thirty Antiquarians who were still fighting fit. The rest of the defenders lay deeper in the labyrinth, tending to the students, or were still above ground fighting against impossible odds. The plan that those present sought to concoct would hopefully even those odds. </p><p> </p><p>The New Nine were of course all accounted for (save for the obviously absent Lotte), but so was Avery, Bice, Aira, Alice, and a small host of other seniors who had the spirit to stand up and fight alongside the others. </p><p> </p><p>Headmistress Holbrooke, who stood at the entrance that descended down into the deeper parts of the sanctum, and at the head of the circle that had formed, wrapped her cane twice against the floor. “Time is a treasure we lack, so we’ll do away with pleasantries. Diana, I heard that you and yours have come up with a plan that might help to salvage this situation?” She was using her “headmistress voice,” which had been surprisingly rare to hear in the past few months; an oncoming retirement certainly dulled the teeth Holbrooke used to have, but not entirely. </p><p> </p><p>Diana, in spite of her messy hair, dirty face, and disheveled clothes, spoke with all do grace and haste that she would wield in any other event that demanded her absolute attention and effort. “That we have. Myself, Akko, and Jasminka, have devised a plan that all but guarantees the survival of the academy…. Though it is not perfect, and demands we utilize The Hologarium chamber, and will leave us at the mercy of a competent and well meaning rescue party.”</p><p> </p><p>Finnelan, with her hands on her hips, wrinkled her nose. “I shouldn’t be surprised that <em> you </em> know about the Hologarium Chamber, Ms. Cavendish, but I wonder how the rest of you came to learn of it.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda butted in. “No offense teach, but is this the time?” </p><p> </p><p>Finnelan nodded. “I suppose it isn’t. But what do you mean to do with it? Ideally, it was never meant to be used, so if you intend to operate it, I hope you know what you’re doing, as no one else does.”</p><p> </p><p>Akko waved it off smugly. “Pssh, we repeated the same day like three hundred times with that thing! <em> And </em> we time traveled to like, eight different places, so we <em> totally </em>—” Akko opened her eyes to find everyone, literally everyone, staring at her with the most deadpan of faces. “Know… what… we’re… doing. Heheh….” Akko then retreated behind Diana who palmed her face. “Sorry.” </p><p> </p><p>Pisces glubbed something about enjoying that day no matter how many times it repeated, which earned a few very confused blinks and stares from the New Nine who had thought they were the only ones who knew about it, but Diana was quick to bring them back on track. “Escapades aside, we intend to stop time in its tracks.” </p><p> </p><p>Everyone was taken aback by that bold claim, but none more than Nelson who guffawed at it with both hands against her temples. “Are you kids crazy!? Do you know how terrible an idea that is!?”</p><p> </p><p>Jasminka assuaged many of the fears by speaking above the crowd, though she struggled to do so given her otherwise soft spoken self. “Everyone! Calm down! It’s alright! The dome will prevent the time-stoppage from reaching anywhere else in the world, so we can still be saved!” </p><p> </p><p>The voices slowly died down, but Nelson persisted. “But if we just isolate one area and then suddenly unfreeze time later, that could cause irreparable damage to reality as we know it!” Pisces glubbed something in retort, which had Nelson’s head spinning. “Woah, woah, slow down Pisces! I can barely understand half of those terms!” </p><p> </p><p>Pisces glubbed louder while remaining near motionless as ever in her fish-bowl, and while most of what she said was either completely incomprehensible or barely understandable, Constanze seemed to get it. “Mhm. Makes sense.” A few students and Antiquarians, equally befuddled, let their eyes fall to Constanze who simply shrugged. “It’s basic science.”</p><p> </p><p>“The plan, people! The plan!” Hannah urged. </p><p> </p><p>“P-Please! Focus!” Barbara added. </p><p> </p><p>Diana cleared her throat before ending her piece. “Well, obviously we need to reach the Hologarium to actually utilize it. Assuming the sewers are still secure, we can use the passages to appear just down the hall from the library which holds the hidden entrance. It’s a straight forward plan, but we could be faced with any amount of resistance, so it’s advisable that a large group be formed to fight toward it. I also advise that several groups of our best mages split off to cause ‘distractions,’ if you will, to help give the Hologarium team time to activate it, and possibly to help save more of the students or link up with tied down Antiquarians.”</p><p> </p><p>As a rumbling of varied opinions, mostly positive ones, rolled through the gathered assembly, Sucy took the stand. “Good plan Cavendish, but we can do you one better.” She was no more enthusiastic about this than usual, of course, but urgency marked her wider eyes and rushed speaking. </p><p> </p><p>Akko peered over Diana’s shoulder. “Whatcha got Sucy?”</p><p> </p><p>“Myself, Amanda, and Constanze think we can get some people out of the dome.” She paused, knowingly, to allow everyone to be surprised before she gestured with her hands as if to say <em> “get on with it, I’m trying to talk here.” </em> Finally, everyone quieted down. “We made some progress earlier this morning, but the drill broke down. Long story short, we get to Amanda’s motorcycle, Constanze straps her mithril drill on, and we use it to smash through the weakened section of the dome to escape.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda whispered, <em> “Please don’t say ‘smashed’ when talking about my bike….” </em>But Sucy promptly ignored it. </p><p> </p><p>Sucy continued: “Obviously if we intend to go through with that plan, Amanda and Constanze need an escort. Amanda needs to drive the bike, and Constanze needs to get the drill on.” She put her right hand over her chest. “I’ll lead that team. Anyone else is free to come with, but I won’t make you.” </p><p> </p><p>Finnelan shook her head and raised a halting hand though before anyone could offer. “Hold on a moment, are we sure this plan is wise? It sounds incredibly foolish and risky.”</p><p> </p><p>“There is risk inherent to any action we take, including the action of having this meeting, Professor Finnelan.” Lukic added sagely. </p><p> </p><p>“Of course, but should we really make such a ‘do or die’ move when our efforts can be best concentrated on simply activating the Hologarium. as Ms Cavendish suggested?” Finnelan scanned the crowd for those who disagreed, and surprisingly, she found Diana herself to be advocating for it. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s unwise for us to bank wholly on my plan succeeding. Where I have no doubt we will be able to activate the Hologarium, we lack any certainty that we will be discovered by someone who would or could actually help us; which is to say, other Antiquarians or particularly influential covens.” Diana’s eyes moved to Amanda and Constanze who stood side by side one another. “With two of our own able to escape, we can rest assured that we’ll be rescued.” </p><p> </p><p>Babcock adjusted her glasses. “Mmmm…. I’m not so sure those two of all people can be trusted with such a task. Perhaps if you were with them, Ms. Cavend—” </p><p> </p><p>“Absolutely not!” Hannah interjected to the surprise of everyone, but especially Amanda. “If there’s anyone who can get help and come back with enough firepower to blast these weirdos back to whatever hell-hole they crawled out of, it’s Amanda, and I’ll stand by that statement until the whole school’s in ruin!” </p><p> </p><p>Barbara raised her voice alongside her noble love. “A-Agreed! I don’t… I mean—” Barbara cut herself off with a tensing of her spine. She found that voice she was using earlier and put it to good use. “Amanda’s grown a lot since some of you professors last knew her. She’s stronger, smarter, and more worldly. And with Constanze at her back, I can’t imagine a problem that would have both of them stumped.” Barbara nodded intently. She didn’t want Amanda to be put in any more danger, but she also knew that Amanda was one of their best mages outside of the Antiquarians. “I believe in them!”</p><p> </p><p>A few Antiquarians spoke up, voicing their praises and agreement for Amanda given what they’d seen of her. Amanda, always one to enjoy the limelight, leaned against her sword all suave like and grinned. “Heheh, well, it’s not like any of you guys can drive my bike anyway soooo—Ow!” Amanda stood back at attention after Constanze pinched her side. </p><p> </p><p>“Brag when we make it. Not now.” Constanze elbowed Amanda then for good measure. Amanda grumbled and rolled her eyes at that. </p><p> </p><p>Finnelan sighed. “Really, Amanda, I wish you conducted yourself better so I could praise your ability more often…. Even so, I agree with Ms. England and Ms. parker.” She brought her hands behind her back then, satisfied that this plan just might work. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda thumbed to herself in reply. “You can count on me, Finnelan.” Since Amanda seldom ever called Finnelan by her last name, she must have meant it more earnestly.</p><p> </p><p>Jasminka, always the one to want to wrap a neat little bow on things, brought the two plans together. “So, one team will head for the Hologarium, one team will escort Amanda and Constanze, and one team will dristract and provide aid elsewhere?” She scanned the crowd and found only approving nods and gestures, and to that, she smiled quite genuinely. “Then it’s settled! I think myself, Akko, Diana, Hannah, and Barbara should all make for the Hologarium, while Sucy, Amanda, and Constanze go about their end of the plan.” </p><p> </p><p>“That would make sense, given our experience with the Hologarium.” Diana thought aloud. </p><p> </p><p>Holbrooke broke her contemplative silence then with a call to arms. “In that case, myself and the other professors who choose to join me can help in drawing those ruffians away from our students. It’s only right as their professors that we be the first to come to their direct aid.” None of the professors seemed to want it any other way; even Pisces glubbed in agreement, though how she would fight was beyond any of them. </p><p> </p><p>Akko certainly did though as she raised a finger. “Uhh, Headmistress. I got a small request about that…. Can… Chariot stay behind?”</p><p> </p><p>Holbrooke hummed curiously. “I’m not sure why you ask…. Actually,” Holbrooke glanced around. “I don’t think I’ve seen Chariot since yesterday; several professors are still held up by the attackers, no doubt.” She shook her head woefully; these would be the darkest days in Luna Nova’s history.</p><p> </p><p>In one moment, Diana was carefully contemplating the specifics of their soon to be executed plan, and in the next, she was petrified. <em> “I don’t think I’ve seen Chariot since yesterday.” </em> And given the time of the attack, that would mean, <em> “...still held up by the attackers, no doubt.” </em> And if what Chariot saw was true then, <em> “Find her.” </em> Her voice, but in a way she had hardly ever heard it before, echoed in her mind. <em> “Go. Find her. Run!” </em>Diana was powerless to do otherwise. She broke from the group, barrelled through the crowd, nearly toppling Sucy over in doing so, and sprinted out of the sanctum. </p><p> </p><p>“DIANA!” Akko cried out, having looked away for just one moment too much to realize her love would be running off. She gave chase to Diana, but as everyone was naturally flabbergasted and confused, Akko made things clear. “UH, GO ABOUT THE PLAN LIKE NORMAL! WE’LL COME FIND YOU GUYS AFTER!” After what? Only those two knew. </p><p> </p><p>The dissident tones and questions shook the cohesion of the gathering, and only Sucy’s murowa blast shot at the ceiling got everyone focused again. “That’s twice in a week I’ve had to do that….” She cursed to herself then in Tagalog. “You heard the witch, get moving! We’re doing this plan with or without them!” No one could argue against it; time was already short, and they’d spent enough of it preparing. </p><p> </p><p>Thus, all that was left to do was to split up and hurry to their objectives. In the mix of that procession, Amanda, Hannah, and Barbara, gave each other longing looks of goodbye, but these were no farewells in the face of death, but farewells given with the knowledge that they would be together again soon, and better for it. </p><p> </p><p>Meanwhile, deeper in the sewers, Diana ran with a fury she hadn’t known she had. Acid burned in her unexercised muscles, and her lungs felt cold and sharp with pain. She couldn’t stop though, and neither could Akko who was close behind. Akko, while confused at first, realized mid stride exactly why Diana was running with such purpose. Akko had made a promise to Chariot, with Diana in her arms, that she wouldn’t die, and it was a promise she intended to keep for all of their sakes.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p><em> Some time prior…. </em> </p><p> </p><p>All that could be seen or known in those moments following the cannon-strike was dust, smoke, and glimmers of emerald that danced and sprinkled the air like a swarm of fireflies. Atop Chariot’s tower though, in the mostly ruined shadows of the gazebo-like room at the peak, everything outside the emergency magical shield was made hazy. </p><p> </p><p>Chariot was dashed to the ground by the shockwave and by the weakness in her body that, at first seemed inexplicable, but then became self-evident in origin. Chariot had called on magic at the cost of her own body; just enough to erect that barrier. To her brief surprise, Chariot saw that same barrier to still be raised, albeit barely.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>As the dust settled, more of the scene came back to the forefront of her memory; the Luna Nova News Network crew, consisting of Wangari, Joanna, and Kimberly, had come to rouse Chariot from sleep when the alarms were raised, but by the time they had arrived, the worst had come to pass. </p><p> </p><p>Chariot saw most of it coming, or had seen it at least. The memory of that initially harmless ritual was fresh in her mind; she had committed every moment to memory:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It was about a month prior, and Chariot was alone. Magic still felt like a burden for her to manage, but she had persisted on as a teacher at a magical school regardless. Her classes had been almost fully focused on theory rather than execution for that very reason; not to imply that theory wasn’t important. One night, as innocuous as any other, Chariot had decided she’d gotten enough of her ability back to try her hand at her most skilled magical practice: Astrology.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Specifically, Chariot would scry the future, and with graduation fast approaching, she got caught up in the excitement of seeing Akko, Diana’s, Jasminka’s, Lottes; all of the New Nine and more’s faces as they passed from apprentices into fully blooded witches. Instead, Chariot saw visions of a most harrowing battle indeed. Somehow, Chariot would come to do battle with a brutal swordsman and perish by their blade. Sometimes Wangari and company were present, sometimes Chariot was alone, and other times, she emerged victorious. But she had seen one thread of fate cast where she did not; where death claimed her, and that was enough to spoil the whole reading.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The accursed ruling, put in place perhaps before the first of the stars shined in the void, passed down by The Moon itself to the Nine Olde Witches, read as follows; Chariot thought it to herself: <em> “It is with absolute assurance that, should a being scry events from the future which include, allude to, or reference the death of they whom scry those events, said being shall be fated to meet their end, if, and only if, they speak of, or otherwise inform another of said events directly.” </em>It was a mouthful, literally and by implication. “Directly” was of course the operative term that Chariot abused to try and inform Diana and Akko of what was to come, but that rule could only be bent so far before the universe struck her down for impudence. </p><p> </p><p>Not that such a violation would be made known to Chariot; she could have violated the rule a thousand times over already and she would be none the wiser, even as she died. Fickle are the ways of the cosmos, and ever more fickle is fate for putting her in this predicament.</p><p> </p><p>Her mind drifted back to the present: She was in the ruins of her room, likely kept alive only by the grace of the LNN, who had lent their full focus and magic to maintaining the barrier Chariot had conjured in haste just before the cannon fired. She forced herself to rise to a sitting position at least, hissing in pain as she did so. Mournful eyes fixated on Wangari; Chariot had tried to warn the students to run, but she had only a moment or two to spare. Now, all of them were likely to suffer the same fate. </p><p> </p><p>No words were shared as everyone recovered from the initial explosion. Wangari, Joanna, and Kimberly continued to pour everything they had into keeping that shield up, fearful that another blast would come at any moment and erase them. Chariot, unsatisfied to just sit by and watch, clambered to her feet and called out. “ALCOOOR!” She hadn’t the foggiest idea of where her familiar was when the explosion struck, and given they shared most of their thoughts, perhaps they had flown away. Regardless of the truth, no response came. “Alcor….” Chariot assumed the worst. </p><p> </p><p>“C-Chariot.” Wangari managed to spit out through grit teeth. “What… the hell… just happened?” </p><p> </p><p>Chariot could only shake her head at that question, prompting Joanna to speak up weakly. “Did we just get bombed?” It sounded absurd to all of them; Luna Nova was a school threatened by more whimsical matters, not by brutal realities such as this. </p><p> </p><p>“Is it safe to run now? Maybe we can—” Kimberly began, but was quieted by the sight of the one stairway down being blocked by collapsed rubble; they’d need time to clear it away, time they probably didn’t have. “We have to try!” She urged her fellow reporters and Chariot. </p><p> </p><p>As the go to leader, Chariot looked around amidst the now dying down swirl of dust clouds and nodded. “Ok, but do it carefully! We don’t know how stable the foundation is anymore.” She staggered past the trio only to be caught by Wangari. </p><p> </p><p>“Woah there! Slow down!” Wangari had stopped the professor from nearly falling over with an outstretched hand, and the other two witches lended their strength as well; the small shield faded with their lack of focus. “You need to take a seat; you’re in no condition to start casting again, and I don’t think any of us are strong enough to move all of that by hand.” Wangari of course had the group's best interest at heart, but Chariot knew just how dire things were likely to get. </p><p> </p><p>Arguing would only waste more time though, so Chariot resigned herself to sitting on the ground. “A-Alright, but hurry!” Even then, right before their likely demise, Chariot could not warn them, for a sliver of hope had to remain which saw them surviving this ordeal. To speak of that doomed fate now would only guarantee it. </p><p> </p><p>Kimberly and Joanna went to work the moment they heard Chariot spur them to action. Levitation spells were simple, but they required effort and concentration equal to the weight being lifted, and nearly a tonne of debris no doubt covered the stairway. “Why couldn’t they just build the place out of wood!” Joanna complained as they were met with immediate resistance. Inch by inch, they would have to spirit the largest chunks of stone away. </p><p> </p><p>Wangari meanwhile tended to Chariot, having gone down on one knee and put her left hand on the professor’s back to help keep her propped up. “Uhh, I’m n-not a nurse or a doctor! But, do you feel dizzy? Light headed?” She searched for bleeding wounds, and mercifully found none. Chariot’s quick thinking had saved them all a litany of injuries, Still, Wangari was in crisis management mode, which she admittedly wasn’t the best at. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m, alright…. Dizzy, yes, but it’s not a concussion if that’s what you’re asking.” Chariot shook her head somewhat impatiently. “I’ll be fine, but you need to help them! If you give me a moment, I’ll be there to push, but for now just lend your wand to the effort.” It was imperative they get off of this tower. Not just for the obvious reasons of fearing its collapse nor because it left them exposed, but chiefly because it was where Chariot had seen all of her visions take place. </p><p> </p><p>If she would die, it would happen here, on this platform. If they could make it down into the school, then certainly her foreseen death must have been a mistake; a fluke in the tapestry of fates. </p><p> </p><p>Wangari felt conflicted, but was a woman of action all the same, and took to aiding Joanna and Kimberly before she even thought about pressing for more questions. “Hnng! Come on, budge!” Even with Wangari’s magic, the trio could only move the heavy section of wall and stones by a foot every ten seconds or so, and there were more stones to clear away underneath that. </p><p> </p><p>Amidst their efforts, Joanna looked off and around to try and catch her bearings or catch sight of whatever it was that attacked them, and when she saw the massive flying fortress, she froze up in fear. The only movement her body could muster then was a shaky raise of the camera about her neck, <em> Ansel </em>, which flashed it’s shutters twice; force of habit had her taking pictures, if only to prove that this was not a dream.</p><p> </p><p>The other witches in tandem turned and slowed their motions at the sound of the camera flashed. They too, Chariot included, could not believe it. Chariot rose back to her feet and anxiously frew her wand; she could see winged things, fel bats, spiralling down toward them. Kimberly screamed and ducked down, as did Joanna and Wangari.</p><p> </p><p> Despite knowing the pain would be great, Chariot then cast a blinding orb of light toward the approaching swarm. The orb itself hung in the air and sent many of the bats scurrying and careening into the building below. For her efforts, Chariot was rewarded with a terrible sting in her chest; her heart felt like it had been stabbed. Over the screeching din, she called out to the stunned and still LNN. “Don’t just stand there! You…. You have to get out of here!” </p><p> </p><p>Wangari and company snapped to attention, fearful, but fueled by the primal instinct to survive. Their efforts to clear the rubble tripled; muscles strained, and wands surged with power. The first large slab was sent sailing down onto the roof of the academy below and crashed through the roof. Luckily, it struck an empty lecture hall. Then, as bats fell in a blind tizzy to the roof and platform around them, the three reporter-witches began chucking stones and pieces of rubble by the handful away from the stairwell. </p><p> </p><p>Chariot meanwhile struggled to focus. Her vision was distorted; some colors dulled while others became especially more vibrant. The cost of calling on magic when poisoned by the Wagandea tree was heavy indeed. Where Akko and the like had their powers “stolen” by Chariot, Chariot had hers nullified by a sort of infection of the soul and body. The spores of Wagandea were rooted, barbed, and stuck in her; only time could cure their effects, time they didn’t have. </p><p> </p><p>When Chariot had managed to steady her wobbling form and raise her eyes again to the sky, she could see more winged things heading for them. The shapes were larger though, and certainly not bat-shaped. <em> “Horses?” </em> The notion bewildered her; pegasi were some of the rarest animals in the world, and to see five of them riding toward their position from the New Moon tower was disorienting to say the least. She could see more even, dozens of them! They were surrounding the school like vultures! <em> “The students!” </em>She was powerless to help them, let alone herself and the LNN. </p><p> </p><p>Chariot could only breath and regain composure as the foes drew closer; five dread-steed mounted warriors, four in silver armor, and one more regally adorned and black clad. The sound of their heavy wingbeats on the air brought Wangari and company to turn away from their straining task, heaving and huffing for breath, and their eyes fixed on the steed bound knights. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai and his guard came to a steady gallop near the tower, having been drawn by the bright light Chariot had let off to scare away the fel-bats. By now, his wound had physically healed, but his pride was most certainly marked; that flamingo haired witch would pay dearly in time. As the group he led came to a halt just twenty feet away from the platform, Nikolai leered at the four witches below. He saw the fear in their eyes, but notably saw the eldest to be defiant yet. He had given the previous group of witches a chance for easy surrender; and perhaps they could have been allowed to live, either as thralls, or even being gifted with conversion to the clan, but those chances had been dashed by disrespect. Nikolai would offer no further niceties.</p><p> </p><p>“Do as ordered; take them into custody! Slay them only if you must.”  Nikolai commanded as he sized up the witches below as a farmer might to pigs and sow before slaughter. </p><p> </p><p>The four knights each lept from their steeds and landed gracefully on the platform in a semi circle formation. Chariot stumbled back, surprised by their speed and strength despite the gear they wore. Kimberly begged for mercy in a frantic fashion while Joanna clawed ever more desperately at the pile of rubble that blocked them. She could faintly see the stairwell beyond; they just needed a little more room! Wangari, though fearful, was not about to go down without a struggle. She came beside Chariot with her wand raised and nudged her with her elbow while still keeping a careful stare on the knights. </p><p> </p><p>Chariot turned for a moment to catch sight of Wangari’s expression; it spoke volumes of her bravery. Chariot knew her wand would be near useless, but held on to it anyway. At best, she could deflect attacks with tiny spells here and there, but she lacked a weapon. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Hey! Cherry! Catch!” </em> Alcor’s squawking voice came from behind, and just as Chariot turned to see what he was talking about, she found a rapier, likely one held as decoration in the displays of the academy, fell into her hands. While it was certainly for display, the sharpness and sturdiness of the blade couldn’t be doubted. The Knights, as they rose from their knelt down stance, eyed the now passing over bird strangely. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai raised a brow as Alcor soard passed him. “Hmmph. Perhaps this will be… entertaining.” His eyes followed Alcor as they now circled the tower. For now, Nikolai would simply stand by and watch.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Well don’t just gawk at it girl! Defend yourself!” </em> Alcor cawed again, only to be understood by Chariot of course. <em> “Had a bad feeling this might happen, so I went off to go get it! Don’t let all that effort go to waste!” </em>In his own way, Alcor was always going to be at Chariot’s side. </p><p> </p><p>After a quick glance over, Chariot spun about and took on as best of a fencing posture as she could. It had been <em> years </em>since she ever dueled, let alone with a proper sword, but she’d have to try nonetheless. “Y-You won’t lay a hand on them!” She barked in defiance. </p><p> </p><p>The lead most knight chuckled lowly while reading his greataxe. His comrades soon followed in laughter while preparing their weapons, they’re taunting cackles filled with sadistic glee. Slowly, they advanced. Two went for Chariot and Wangari in the center while the others kept to the left side to capture the now digging Joanna and Kimberly. Wangari called to them. “Jo! Kim! Watch out!” And sure enough, they turned about, hastily leveling their wands at the knights. </p><p> </p><p>“S-Stay back! I’ll… I’ll….” Kimberly stammered. Where Kimberly tried and failed to threaten her way to safety, Joanna wasted no time and casted a hasty spell with a squeaking scream. The small magical bolt struck the leftmost knight approaching them, and at first did nothing. </p><p> </p><p>The knight looked down to themselves in examination and chuckled again. “Haha! What? Have you <em> bewitched </em> me? Cursed me perhaps?” He began to step backward, and only a moment later did he realize this. “W-What?” His mind told his body to move forward, but everything felt opposite! “W-What is this!?” </p><p> </p><p>The other knight turned. “Get a hold of yourself you damn fool!” In that distracted moment, Kimberly made a move and cast a spell of her own. That one transmuted his polearm into a mop in a puff of smoke. He stumbled back in confusion before growling and tossing it aside. “Enough games!” He bellowed before charging the two down at full speed, leaving his directionally challenged comrade in an awkward mess of walking backward and forward. Kimberly and Joanna both began a crazed game of tag with the charging knight, leaping in and out of his tackles and hexing him in humiliating fashion whenever he got a hold of the other. </p><p> </p><p>At the same time, the two knights squaring up with Wangari and Chariot rushed forward, hissing vampirically. Chariot and Wangari split, dodging the immediate axe-head that struck the ground in between them, nearly shattering the stone floor. “Capture first! Kill later!” Nikolai shouted down to the knight to the warriors grumbling distaste. The other warrior meanwhile followed up on Chariot’s dodge to the right and swung his sword bluntedly at her. </p><p> </p><p>Chariot parried the attack with her own blade, and used her athletic strengths to the fullest. After landing and blocking the blow, she touched off the ground again and dove further to her right, but forward as well to get on the flank of the vampire knight. Hastily, she swiped the blade at the neck, but found it caught by a block. Chariot was forced to jump back then, and nearly found herself falling off the platform, but kept her balance steady. </p><p> </p><p>Wangari meanwhile earned the ire of the axe wielding vampire who struggled briefly to wrench the weapon from the stone platform. She tried a few murowas, but found each bolt merely plinked off of his plate. As he came close to sweep her legs with his weapon, Wangari jump-roped the swipe, and cast a curse of rust on his equipment. “Oxidia!” She shouted in casting it. </p><p> </p><p>The axe wielding knight quickly found his chestplate oxidizing at a terrifying rate, and it spread further and further to the rest of his armor. Despite that, he focused on his objective and took advantage of Wangari’s focus on spellcasting to snatch her arm with a free hand as she tried to run. “Insipid girl!” He hissed before beginning to drag her back toward his steed. </p><p> </p><p>“LET ME GO! GET OFF!” Wangari struggled all the wash, bashing with her fists at his rusted plate which tore away bits and pieces of it, allowing it to flake away in the wind. </p><p> </p><p>As this occured, Chariot had been dodging, ducking, and blocking in defense of the swordsman she faced, all while dodging the clownish tackling of the knight that chased Joanna and Kimberly. She felt she found an opening, and after throwing the attackers sword aside, Chariot made to run to Wangari’s aid. From behind, she thrust her rapier right through the chest of the vampire, piercing the rusted armor and mail below. “GAAACGH!” The vampire yelled in pain; his heart had been pierced. His hand tightened ever more around Wangari’s arm and twisted it, and she too screamed in pain while blasting off more murowas at the stunned kidnapper. </p><p> </p><p>Sure enough, with the piercing of his heart, the vampire dissipated into ash, leaving only his armor and clothing which clattered to the ground; to the surprise of all witches present. Nikolai nodded approvingly; his warriors may have been failing them here, but he could respect an opponent who fought with blade over spell. This was quite entertaining indeed. Nevertheless, he had an objective to complete; orders to follow. “You embarrass me! Your leisurely take to this battle insults her majesty!” Hypocritically, and self awarely so, Nikolai kept away from the fray for now. He wanted to see if this blade wielding woman would be worth his effort. Maybe she could make him feel <em> alive, </em> as those hunters did ages ago. </p><p> </p><p>The three remaining knights heeded their master, and while one was still struggling to discern how to move left while going right, the other two quit playing around. Before Chariot could react, she felt a heavy sting along her back. She’d been cut diagonally by the swordsman she was facing earlier, but not in a way that would kill her; they still had orders to capture them, after all. </p><p> </p><p>With a scream of pain Chariot fell over, but that just gave Wangari clear sight of the attacker who repeated her earlier spell. “Oxidia!” The bolt struck the warriors sword this time which began to grow ancient and delicate as he raised it up to bluntly strike Chariot on the head, with the intent to knock her out. </p><p> </p><p>Though wounded, Chariot did not yield. She hastily rolled onto her back from the all-fours position she was in prior and swiped her rapier in defence while doing so. The strike severed the rusted blade, shattering it in two, and leaving the knight surprised. A wayward spell from Kimberly then found its mark. “Terra-Tulmultua!” It enchanted the stone below the stunned knight, causing it to split wide for just a moment so that he would fall through the floor and tumble down the staircase below. The hole closed as soon as it opened, leaving no trace of the knight. </p><p> </p><p>Having cast the spell, Kimberly was left open to be strangled from behind by a crushing arm. The directionally confused knight had gotten a hold of his briefly jumbled mind and had wrapped an around Kimberly’s neck. “EEAAAHH!” She squeaked out. </p><p> </p><p>“Kim!” Joanna shouted before the knight who’d been chasing her struck her plainly in the face. The punch was enough to lay her out flat with a shattered nose. She made no further noise. </p><p> </p><p>Wangari, having gone to Chariot’s aid, was forced to act out of emotion when she saw her friends being taken. With Chariot only barely able to stand, Wangari left her side and leveled several hexes and spells against the knight that had gone to pick up Joanna’s unconscious self. The magic bolts struck only the air though as the vampire knight moved with preternatural speed. He became a brief blur and spun around to charge Wangari, tackle her to the floor, and secure her against the stone platform with one hand around her neck. He hissed viperishly. “That’s enough out of you children!” </p><p> </p><p>Chariot, even when in a state of great pain and exhaustion, fought to defend her students. She ran haphazardly to try and stab the knight pinning Wangari to the floor, but found her blade blocked by a regal sword that was stuck out between her and the knight. “Tch, tch, tch.” Nikolai tutted; he hadn’t been noticed in his quick leap down from his steed. “Valorous of you, but foolish.” Nikolai backhanded Chariot with a pommel strike that sent her tumbling back. </p><p> </p><p>The knight, with Wangari in a chokehold, kicking and screaming, rose. “Thank you, my lord.” He said with reverence. </p><p> </p><p>“Take them to the dungeons.” Nikolai disregarded the pleasantries and focused on the task at hand, but took on a stately yet relaxed pose; his sword was much like a cane and was gently leaned on with the blade pressed against the ground. “I’ll handle this last one. She… intrigues me.” </p><p> </p><p>“By your order!” The knight obediently replied.</p><p> </p><p>“C-Ch-Chari…!” Wangari sputtered, gasping for air as she was held aloft until consciousness faded. She, along with Joanna and Kimberly, were gathered up and tied to the dread steeds. The knights who remained then saddled up and sallied off with their prizes; their blood would be put to good use. </p><p> </p><p>Meanwhile, Nikolai waited patiently for Chariot to collect herself off of the ground; a small pool of blood had formed from the wound she suffered, and her whole left side was lightly stained with the fluid. When Chariot came to her feet, Nikolai cleared his throat. “Call it eccentric, but I’ve come to idolize those who hold to the old ways of combat; rather, the more <em> honorable </em> ways.” </p><p> </p><p><em> “Come on Cherry get up! Come on, come on!” </em> Alcor’s voice echoed in Chariot’s dazed mind as he circled above. <em> “You gotta beat this son of a bitch!” </em> Alcor, much like their bonded witch, was defiant unto the end. </p><p> </p><p>Chariot’s breathing was hasty and panicked as she faced Nikolai. Her rapier was held tight in her left hand and pointed down at the ground. She felt dizzy, weak, and uncertain of herself. She was certain, however, of one thing: This was the swordsman she saw in her vision; Nikolai would be the man to kill her. She did not speak, and simply let Nikolai continue his little ramble. “So, if you’ll indulge me….” He leveled his sword to point at her. “I might reward you. If you entertain, of course.” </p><p> </p><p>Chariot sized up her foe, not just in physical size but in demeanor and personality. She shakily spoke. “D-Dueling a wounded… opponent? What kind of k-knight thinks that’s honorable?” It was a stretch, but given she could imagine herself bleeding out in ten minutes or so, she had to try for a fairer fight. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai smiled coyly. “Ahhh…. I suppose you aren’t exactly in perfect shape.” The smell of blood was inviting, but Nikolai withheld his base desires in favor of greater pleasures to be found in a well fought duel. He lowered his blade and made a special sort of whistling tune which called forth the Twin Fates from the east and west. </p><p> </p><p>“Ehh?! What foolishness is this?” Cause confusedly probed. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you not see the witch before you? Kill her! Do something!” Effect similarly said. </p><p> </p><p>“That will come in time…. But I’ve a small favor to ask.” Nikolai looked to the Twins with that same smile from earlier. </p><p> </p><p>Chariot, during all of this, was flabbergasted and without words. These must have been the witches who were harrying Luna Nova from the start. Why would they be working together with these attackers? She caused one of the knights to become dust herself, and even then Chariot was unsure of exactly who or what they were. </p><p> </p><p>“More favors!?” The twins said in unison. “Entitled!” “Spoiled!” “Lecherous!” “Treacherous!” Cause and Effect alternated insults until Nikolai raised a quieting hand. </p><p> </p><p>“Now, now! I’ll end her life, but not hastily. I’d challenge her to a duel, and I’d do so fairly…. Heal her wounds that we might be on, hm, <em> even </em> ground.” To even insinuate that a human, let alone a witch, was equal or even to him was laughable. “To her credit, I have not seen her wield any wicked sorceries, but her blade work has intrigued me.”</p><p> </p><p>Chariot took a step back while posturing herself defensively. Alcor returned to her shoulder in this time, squawking to her. <em> “Ok Cherry, I know this looks bad, but I think we can get through this! Here’s the plan! You hold him here for as long as you can. I’m gonna go find some help; not like I’m gonna be very useful peckin’ at him!” </em>Alcor used to be an extremely powerful familiar, but only because Chariot used to be an extremely powerful witch. Without the Shiny Rod, and now without much magic at all, he, like Chariot, faded in arcane strength.</p><p> </p><p>Chariot nodded and whispered in kind. “Find Akko and Diana. Lead them he—” She was cut short by the surprised gasps of the Fate witches which ahd Alcor scurrying away into the air; they knew their task. </p><p> </p><p>“Wait! Is that—!?” Cause swooned dramatically. “Could it be!?” Effect leaned in with a toothy grin. “SHINY CHARIOT!?” There was no way either of them could have been more mocking in how they said Chariot’s stage name. The Twins flashed closer to Chariot, having blinked across the distance which frightened Alcor away, and began to circle her while floating in the air. Their eyes were wide and their smiles wider than ever; Chariot reeled, both at the usage of her disgraced stage name and at the sudden closeness of the strange sorceresses. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai, from afar, scowled and began pacing back and forth. He would not be denied this opportunity at meeting a witch who might satisfy that wicked nostalgia he had for battles of olde. </p><p> </p><p>Chariot, as she was examined in disturbing detail, raised her rapier and slashed it wardingly at the Fates whenever they seemed to get closer. Whenever the rapier got close to cutting them though, they would merely shunt backward; their eye contact never wavered, nor did they blink. Together they spoke: “We wondered where you went! From afar we watched you rise and fall, and OH how <em> deliciously </em> you fell!” Laughing broke up their diatribe. “Your magic really <em> stole </em> the hearts of your fans didn’t it? Ahahaheehee!” </p><p> </p><p>Chariot slashed more vigorously and thrust with wanton anger. “Shut up! Who are you!?” </p><p> </p><p>They ignored her question. “Tell us,” Cause began her own question which Effect continued. “Whatever happened to their powers?” Effect flew in close behind Chariot while her guard was down and whispered. “Clearly you haven’t stored it for yourself….” Chariot swung around only to swipe the air as Cause replicated her twin's eerie gesture. “Perhaps your <em> good friend Coix </em> could inform us of how she managed to siphon all of that magic so easily!” That struck a nerve, and with a surprising bit of speed and prediction, Chariot managed to cut the wrist of Cause as she retreated. </p><p> </p><p>From the minor wound, a purple like blood bled as the Fate witch giggled. “Ohh, how <em> rude </em> of you!” Effect stepped in, holding her sister’s bloody wrist in both hands as Cause swooned, feigning pain. “To strike at those who might offer you the union you so <em> desperately </em> seek!” </p><p> </p><p>Chariot raised her voice such that she felt her throat scratch. “DON’T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT HER!” Croix held a special place in her heart, naturally, as both the woman who betrayed her trust and came back with even greater spite, and as the one who fueled her dream to success. Chariot wasn’t sure if she loved Croix, but she was absolutely certain that she wanted, no, needed to be with her. There was so much left unsaid, even with their weekly video chats; so much that needed to be done in person. The very notion that the “union” the Fates offered was somehow related only hurt Chariot further; she knew their bargains, whoever they were and whatever their aims were, would be double edged. </p><p> </p><p>The Twins sensed Chariot’s denial of their offer just by how she stood and spoke; there would be no easy victories today. “What a bore!” They both groaned as Cause reknit her wrent flesh with a simple spell. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai shouted above their talking then. “Are you quite done yet!? I’ll not wait any further! Heal her wounds that we might duel honorably!” He pivoted on one foot to face Chariot, and with a swinging motion, he brought his bastard sword up to be steadied in both hands. Sparks flew from where the tip of the weapon struck stone. </p><p> </p><p>“So needy!” Effect harrumphed before snapping her fingers.</p><p> </p><p>Cause rolled her eyes and sighed. “Truly petulant!” She too snapped her fingers.</p><p> </p><p>At the snap, Chariot began to writhe in pain. She lurched forward, down onto all fours, and groaned in terrible pain. Her back wound was reknit and her vitality returned; of course, the Fates would not show true kindness in this as their magic was cast such that it was an extremely painful process. It was <em> technically </em> permitted by The Pact, of course, as it was done in the name of healing over hurting. </p><p> </p><p>Chariot shivered and shook on the ground, but after that defiling sensation left her, she was able to stand again with neither pain nor exhaustion. She was as fighting fit as she’d ever be, and that meant there was nothing left to do but test fate. “Why do you even want to duel me?” Chariot asked as she examined her body before fixing a fierce gaze onto Nikolai. </p><p> </p><p>“When you live as long as I,” Nikolai began to speak when he took a sideways posture with his head turned to keep eyes on Chariot. His sword was held high and pointed partially low in a block stance, and his feet were kept wide with one in the front and one in the back. “You come to learn that mankind is only ever tested at the brink between life and death; Heaven and Hell.” Nikolai rolled his jaw and cracked his neck. “Come then. We’ll have <em> plenty </em> of time to speak over a dance.” He bared his fangs in a grin. “A gentleman allows the lady to lead.”</p><p> </p><p>Chariot fixed her posture into a mid guard position, her sword wielding arm was bent inward slightly as her other hand gently ran along the length of her rapier. With what magic she could muster, to her discomfort, Chariot strengthened the durability of her blade; her rapier would never match up in durability to a bastard sword like Nikolai’s in a clash. <em> “Just stay calm, Chariot.” </em> She thought to herself in the second person. <em> “Stay calm and hold out for Akko and Diana to arrive…. You have to have been mistaken. The vision was wrong and we’re all going to escape this alive.” </em>Chariot could see her breath as she mentally prepared herself; the cold winter morning nipped at her cheeks and fingers.</p><p> </p><p>The wind howled over the din of battle below, blowing Chariot’s downcast and messy hair in the wind just as it billowed Nikolai’s cape. Seconds passed with neither making moves yet. “JUST KILL EACH OTHER ALREADY!” Effect and Cause shrieked childishly from the sidelines. It was no gunshot to start the race, but it was good enough. </p><p> </p><p>Chariot, having been given the opening move, stepped to meet Nikolai in the center who dashed forth in turn with incredible ease and speed. Chariot took to offense and slashed once downward, and expectantly, her blade was thrown off. In the motion provided by that block, she made for the second part of her attack where she allowed the rapier to be carried backward before thrusting it forward. Nikolai in turn brought his blocking blade to tilt from right to left and held it down, allowing the rapier point to bounce off the flat of his own sword. </p><p> </p><p>With her blade fumbled off course, Chariot had to react quickly with her open palm and conjured a deflecting shield of magic to shoo aside Nikolai’s counter attack. One measly block would not turn aside his aggression however, for Nikolai was no mortal man. The powers of vampirism made him faster, stronger, and tougher than most things could dream of being while still being bound by flesh. His assault was a flurry of five blows with each only being made possible to block by Chariot’s nimble usage of swordplay and magic. When faced with such speed and aggression, Chariot would need to burn her very soul with the magic that pained her so greatly to conjure just to survive. </p><p> </p><p>On the sidelines, Cause elbowed Effect. “Shall we make a bet of this as well?”</p><p> </p><p>“Gladly.” Effect chortled. </p><p> </p><p>Chariot’s openings were slim, but when they presented themselves she had to be ready. When Nikolai ended his back and forth of right and left bound strikes with an overhead, Chariot used her more limber form to deliver a swift kick to the jaw, staggering Nikolai and providing precious distance. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai, in reeling, held his jaw with one hand and snapped it back into place with a sickening crack. When his hand was dropped back down to his hilt, it slowly revealed an even greater smile; his eyes were wild. “Most men fall before just one barrage…. I was right to have preserved you.”</p><p> </p><p>Chariot backed up, but found herself but ten feet from the edge again; his assaults would push her off of the platform if she provided no counter. She couldn’t just keep blocking. “What are you testing me for!? Is this just a sick game to you?!” Perhaps it was unwise to indulge his conversations, but Chariot hoped to learn something about their foes, at the least. Something that could hopefully be used against them. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai growled eagerly and charged forth. His blade was swept up, sparking on the stone once more as it flashed in the moonlight. Chariot, with a small burst of magic, dodged over him with a leap. Once landed, she turned her crouching form into a lunging one, and struck out at Nikolai’s exposed back. Nikolai never stopped his blade though and allowed his full strength to carry it overhead and back around in a pivot; he pinned Chariot’s Rapier to the ground in doing so. “It’s foolish to think only you are tested here!” Then he swiped for a lunge of his own to graze Chariot’s stomach, and sure enough, his blade was true. </p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t deep by any means, but more importantly she bled. Chariot pulled back a good distance, wincing and holding the wound gently with her blade still outstretched to counter any further aggression. “What’s even being tested!?” She shouted. </p><p> </p><p>“Ooohh! First blood goes to Nikolai!” Effect leaned in, holding up her cheeks with both hands as she floated lackadaisically through the air. “Seems I won that bet.”</p><p> </p><p>“Lucky guess!” Cause snidely declared from below with an annoying jab to the gut to accompany the statement.</p><p> </p><p>“Ideals! The spirit! Aspirations and principles; in the eyes of God we are judged through battle!” Nikolai flicked the blood from his sword, inspired by the sight and smell of it. “Come and tell me what you stand for! With actions and with words! I’ve faced witches by the dozens before and found them wanting! What has time done to my old foe?” He prepared himself to meet a charge from Chariot and pointed his blade upward at an angle; his posture squared. </p><p> </p><p>Chariot couldn’t believe the man, no, the vampire before her. It took time, but the signs made sense now; the fangs, the eyes, the mannerisms. That didn’t matter, and to Chariot, neither did Nikolai’s proselytizing. If it meant buying time though, she would go along with the game. The problem came then with coming up with something believable; if she didn’t drag this conversation on, Nikolai might drop the pretense of dueling for pleasure, assuming he wasn’t giving it his all. </p><p> </p><p>Chariot gave ten seconds to the thought, and in turn, those seconds passed by as minutes. What did she stand for? She needed to satisfy her opponent's strange and twisted curiosity, but beyond that, Chariot could not deny such questions should have answers. What is a person without morals, principles, or a guiding philosophy? Chariot could not answer that question, but she knew that to be such a lifestyle would be unfulfilling or perhaps wrong even; inhuman? <em> “In spite of what you did, why do you keep on living, Chariot?” </em> That second person voice spoke up in her head. <em> “Why are you fighting against those visions? You’re trying to beat fate at a game of chance, and for what?”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Chariot had answered, though the words only came to her when she made her move and crossed blades with Nikolai. She made a thrust and was dodged and in the next moment, she followed up with a one hundred and eighty degree turn that saw her slashing low at Nikolai’s knees. Their blades met with a resounding clang, one that, without Chariot’s prior strengthening of the rapier with magic, would have shattered her weapon; her arm vibrated briefly from the strength of the blow, but held firm. “I’m fighting for the youth! They have a right—” Her retort was paused as she worked her blade down toward the hilt of Nikolai’s before dodging back with a flourish of her weapon, striking Nikolai along the neck and cheek. “—To live! To make this world theirs!” Diana and Akko were at the forefront of the sentiment, but Chariot hadn’t become a professor on a whim after taking on that false identity. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai’s head flinched as he took one step back. No blood marred his face, but he felt the wound all the same; surprisingly, his smile began to fade. “And by what creed is that made true? What right is instilled in every babe upon being born that they should one day inherit the Earth?” Nikolai roared as he retaliated with a leaping strike that forced Chariot to throw herself to the side to avoid. She recovered quickly enough to raise her blade to block the next strike, but was again forced to call on that painful magic to help hold Nikolai back. She was on her back and at the mercy of her strength and spirit. “And from who do the young learn but the old? Look at the world! Open your damnable eyes!” Nikolai pressed harder and harder on their crossed blades; he leaned in. “The world is fetid, rotten! And it shall raise rotting youth to perpetuate the corpse empires that spawned them! “</p><p> </p><p>Chariot could feel her weak barrier breaking as her heart burned and ached. She had to get out from under him or she would be cleaned in two. For a brief moment, she allowed her shield to disperse, but with that same hand she cast a blinding flash in Nikolai’s face that caused him to miss his downward strike; the blade landed inches from Chariot and lay embedded in the stone “GAAH!” He yelled. Chariot rolled away then and came to a sort of kneeling position. From where Chariot now sat, she springboarded in a dashing strike that found her blade cleanly slashing at Nikolai’s neck. The killing blow to behead him! It was the only other way besides piercing his heart!</p><p> </p><p>The cut was not deep enough though, and Chariot found herself awkwardly close to her foe with the blade halfway in his neck, grinding against the top of his spine. Only then did Chariot notice the scar formed just above her own mark; he’d nearly been killed in that same fashion before. The Twin Fates gasped exaggeratedly. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai hissed in pain and struggled to move his arms, but when his regeneration got to work, he was able to grab Chariot by the neck and toss her to the other side of the arena. She slid dangerously close to the edge. “Weak blows….” His free hand dislodged the rapier and held it by the blade tightly such that it dug deep into his skin. “And weak aims.” He spat in disgust while tossing the sword to Chariot; they weren’t finished yet, far from it. “You’re foolish to believe that humanity has any inherent right to exist and propagate after centuries of barbarism.”</p><p> </p><p>Through panting, Chariot clambered back to her feet, collected her weapon, and spoke. “And you’re a monster to believe otherwise!” She wiped dirt from her cheek. “The world may be… terrible.” She struggled for the right words, having never paid much mind to such matters of philosophy or politics. She used to be a stage performer; she wanted to make people smile. Was happiness for all not inherently justified? “But how can you claim to be solving that problem when you’ve come here to kidnap young, innocent witches!” </p><p> </p><p>“Theirs is a sacrifice,” Nikolai began to stride forward with arrogance and malice. “Is one we are willing to make. My Queen requires them to reclaim her rule. Only by rule of the elite, by those who have devoted themselves to God and righteousness, does humanity deserve to persist.” With each step, another section of his wounds healed over, leaving him as though he had not been scratched. That scar would never heal though, in memory or physically. “Without that principled aristocracy at the helm, humanity is doomed to enslave itself to greed and fantasies of power.”</p><p> </p><p>Chariot leered as she readied herself once again for a clash. “I’ve heard those words used before. Don’t act like you’re any different than the people in charge now! They think themselves righteous too, and look what the world has come to because of it!” She met Nikolai’s sudden charge with a swift roundhouse kick to the gut that sent him sliding backward, interrupting his swing; she followed after him with a slash of her own aimed at his wrists but found her blade blocked. “You couldn’t even survive without feeding off of other people, and yet you’re claiming they don’t even deserve to live?! You’re a delusional madman!” From the clash she was in prior to a series of flourish blows, each being met by Nikolai’s own counters, Chariot found herself winded and backing away. </p><p> </p><p>Effect cooed. “Oooh, it’s getting good!”</p><p> </p><p>Cause rolled her eyes and grumbled. “You're just saying that because your favorite is winning.” </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai, while not wanting for air given his undead nature, breathed a bit heavier out of human-habit. He did not tire physically, but he still found this unsatisfying; his opponent had only gotten one solid blow in, and where it <em> could </em> have killed him, she was too weak to have succeeded without wicked sorceries empowering the strike. </p><p> </p><p>The jab at Nikolai’s vampiric self and his purported ideas though caught his attention. “The irony has never been lost on me.” He began to pace counterclockwise, and Chariot followed his steps in turn while opposite to him, but far more cautiously. “However, you miss the point: The governing bodies of the world today already feed upon those who they claim to serve; they are no less a <em> parasite </em> than I by nature!” </p><p> </p><p>Chariot interrupted. “So you admit it then? That this is all just insanity?!” She felt as though she was at her wits end with this man. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai scowled more intensely and his plodding steps became heavier. “I am a parasite insofar as I must feet on another to live…. But my banner would see the world revolutionized! The greater parasites, the aristocracy of wealth, the liars in parliament, the slavery of mankind to gold and riches for riches sake; they will be destroyed, annihilated, ruined! And from those ashes….” Nikolai took up his sword in both hands and charged at Chariot, slashing at her furiously. As he approached, he shouted. “THE ETERNAL MONARCHY SHALL RISE!” His sword gleamed in the moonlight as it came downward upon her.</p><p> </p><p>Chariot went wide eyed at the sudden burst of speed. Her rapier was raised and summarily shattered; Nikolai had put all of his strength into the attack and left Chariot defenceless. The blow had her raising her arms to shield her face; the only thing that saved her from being cut down was a nimble step back, but she did not escape unscathed. A wicked gash was wrent along her right arm near the elbow, cutting deep enough to fracture the bone beneath. Chariot screamed in pain and she stumbled to the opposite side of the arena while holding her nearly severed limb. She could not muster words through the pain; she could only struggle for air as she felt the early onset of shock. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai’s cape billowed in the wind as he sighed disappointedly and rose from his kneeling and crouched pose. “And with its rise, the suffering of man shall end. There will only be loyalty, in life and in death.” His voice conveyed immeasurable disappointment.</p><p> </p><p>“HAHA!” Effect clapped giddily. “Seems you’ll be owing Us quite the payout sister!” She laughed maniacally while Cause simmered and muttered in tongues a litany of insults and excuses.</p><p> </p><p>Nikolai examined his now bloody blade with a sigh and shake of the head. “And even after having worked so diligently to overthrow the old orders, you witches prove wanting still.” With a simple cloth he wiped it clean; the blood was unworthy to stain his equipment. </p><p> </p><p>Chariot fell to her knees and faced Nikolai with a terrible glare. She couldn’t allow herself to fall yet; Diana and Akko needed more time. The greatest problem she faced though lay now in entertaining and countering his points. If she couldn’t hold him at bay with strength she would need to do so with wit; winning the argument meant nothing, though Chariot felt strange to think that way, as she <em> knew </em> his worldview was perverse and terrible. But what did witches stand for? Did they ever stand for anything besides the pursuit of knowledge and joy? Was that itself a “wrong” path to take? </p><p> </p><p>Only one thing was certain: If Chariot survived this, she would have to reflect greatly on what exactly she was doing with her life. It was one thing to watch over and raise the next generation with general life lessons in mind; the kind that helped people mature and find themselves. It was another to raise them with a purpose, that they might fight the evils of the world and spread kindness and love…. Had Chariot failed to do so? </p><p> </p><p>In those hazy moments between Nikolai’s approach, Chariot realized what she lacked; what witches around the world most likely lacked: An understanding of origins; where witching came from, what the Nine Olde Witches stood for. So much of the history surrounding those nine matriarchal figures was shrouded in mystery, but for why? Would that not doom witches to repeat their mistakes? Wouldn’t it leave their teachings to be misconstrued and abused by pragmatists and revisionists? There had to be answers to all of those questions, but Chariot felt that with every footfall Nikolai made that her chances of ever knowing the answers was growing slimmer. She swore to herself that if she did live, she would seek those answers; it was the debt she would pay to her beloved students for all the good they have done, and all the shortcomings Chariot had. </p><p> </p><p>Still, Chariot persisted. Her words faltered through the aching grunts. “You’ll trade… one corpse empire for another.” She used his words against him; it had to mean something. If she couldn’t offer a counter philosophy to distract and intrigue him, she’d just have to tear down his own. As she spoke, she kept back pedalling around the ring; every second wasted by her killer was another that Akko and Diana could use to arrive. “Kings and queens have shown… only… cruelty! Cruelty and… abuse… t-to their subjects. You lived that life, you know that it’s true!” </p><p> </p><p>“Cruelty has its place.” Nikolai kept up the pace with Chariot, twirling his blade slowly out of boredom. “Violence is necessary to rule. Without violence, order cannot be maintained…. Do not tell me you are so frivolous as to claim that mankind can live without its lords? Even a so-called <em> democracy </em> is preferable to barbarism.” </p><p> </p><p>“You’re wrong! You’re dead wrong and… and…” Chariot tripped and fell onto her back, now at the precipice of death by falling and death by the blade. She’d seen both ends as possibilities, but regardless, Nikolai would be the one to cause it. “And the young witches, the youth I’m fighting for…! They’ll show you that! I know they will!”</p><p> </p><p>Nikolai shook his head with finality and leveled the blade against Chariot’s neck. “And what makes you so die hardedly confident that those brats are worth anything?” High above, a white bird cawed and screed. Nikolai failed to notice it.</p><p> </p><p>The Fates too were caught up in the spectacle of Chariot’s demise. They would relish this memory and sear it into their minds that it might be replayable ad infinitum. They both bit their lips and held their tongues; this was a special moment, and neither of them even considered taking their eyes away from the two fighters or speaking in protest. </p><p> </p><p>Chariot was keen though; she spotted Alcor circling above and knew she just needed a minute more. “Because….” Chariot drew out her thought, and while part of her <em> hated </em> what she was about to say, she could never deny that the motto she conceived in youth never failed to carry her through the lowest of lows and bring her to the highest highs. “Because I believe in them. W-With every fiber of my being I trust them.” Chariot needed more proverbial ammo for the conversation; she could hear dirt and stone shifting nearby. The way up to the tower was being cleared. “Do you want to know why?” Chariot weakly smiled and allowed her body to relax just for the moment. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai cocked his head queerly. He took several moments to examine Chariot in full. Her wound was not fatal but she was exhausted now and likely experiencing minor symptoms of shock. Her wand was abandoned earlier and there appeared to be no magic on her fingertips; not that Nikolai was the best at sniffing the stuff out. There seemed to be no tricks at work from where he stood and so his blade was held stiff. “Yes, I would. Now tell me, and perhaps you might live… in memory, so to speak.” Should her words hold weight as the words of those hunters did, perhaps Chariot would earn a place in Nikolai’s memory to be immortalized; such was his arrogance. </p><p> </p><p>“Because my magic, what’s kept me… hnngh… alive all this time….” She breathed slow and steadily; just a bit more! She could have sworn she heard Akko’s voice from beyond the rubble. </p><p> </p><p>“GET ON WITH IT!” Cause and Effect shrieked from above and away from the platform. Nikolai raised a hand to silence them which only had them growling in greater impatience. </p><p> </p><p>“My magic comes from….” She closed her eyes; she’d just have to say it as she always did. “Because a believing heart is my magic…. Without it, I’m nothing.” And she would believe unto her dying breath. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai closed his eyes in turn. “Tch, tch, tch…. Pithy statements will get you no—” An explosion of emerald magic behind them sent rubble and debris flying in all directions! Nikolai and The Fates both redirected their attention to the now smokey entrance where the stairway entrance was; each of them as befuddled as could be expected. Nikolai took on a battle ready stance, but he could not have been prepared for what struck him next. </p><p> </p><p>“What now!?” The Twins said in sending gales to blow away the clouds and reveal the two witches within. </p><p> </p><p>Where dust and darkness once stood, a bright, near blinding light now took purchase. The voices of Akko and Diana rang out in perfect unison. “Nocto….! Orfei….!” The light coalesced at the tip of a singular all powerful arrow strung along a great ivory bow lined in seven small emerald gems. With that light came the illumination of their faces: Diana had never known fury and determination like this before. Her face was red and dry with tears; she cried them all out in fighting her way here. Akko too wore an intense scowl, but she, unlike her soulmate, had shed not one drop for her mentor. She knew they would arrive in time, no matter the circumstances; such was the power of a believing heart. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai, blinded by that otherworldly light, hid his face and hissed; the light almost burned him like the sun it was so intense! “Who dares!?” He tried to find his footing and regain sight of his prey, but to no avail. He could neither clearly make out the bow wielding witches nor Chariot anymore. </p><p> </p><p>At the same time, the Fates were awestruck. “Is that it!?” They chimed with envy, “The Claimh Solas!?” and with disbelief. Such was their surprise to see the relic so suddenly before them that they hardly had time to prepare a counter spell; not that they were even aware if their power, pact given or not, could stand against such pure magical fury. </p><p> </p><p>Chariot kept her eyes close all the while. Fate was in the hands of her students now. “Aude Fraetor!” Akko and Diana pulled back with all of their might and with the twinkling of stars in her eyes; Akko’s were bright and vibrant where Diana’s were dim and disparate. “SHIIINNYY… ARC!” The arrow was loosed and bound straight for Nikolai; there was no being quick enough to dodge it. It’s path was lined in magical sparkles, and while the arrow itself did not pierce through his chest, the trajectory beyond him was lit by that same emerald glow, lighting up the sky across the campus in line. </p><p> </p><p>The Fates recoiled while Nikolai staggered. He looked down to see the pure emerald spike in his chest and trembled. His body experienced a pain like no other and the wound did not heal. His sword clattered to the ground as his grip became uneasy and his vision grew foggy. </p><p> </p><p>Akko and Diana, all the while, were left standing in their firing pose as the Claimh Solas disappeared into dust as it always had since it became a part of them. They gasped for air as if it was the first time they ever knew the joys of breathing and barely stood on wobbling knees. They had battled through hell and high water to get here and the blood on their clothes, both theirs and others, was proof of that herculean effort. </p><p> </p><p>In spite of apparent victory though, neither Chariot nor her students could bring themselves to speak, for as Chariot looked on to her would be killer, she saw not the ash of his corpse, but of a man struggling to wrench something out from his chest. </p><p> </p><p>The Twins slowly reformed their devilish grins.</p><p> </p><p>“If the heart…” Nikolai began amidst his struggle with the arrow of light. When he spoke, Diana, Akko, and Chariot all felt dread overtake them in body and mind. “Is the source… of your… power!” Nikolai groaned and hissed as he began to remove the arrow inch by inch from his chest. All present heard the unmistakable crack of a fang that Nikolai had no doubt broken in biting down so hard due to the immense pain he was enduring. </p><p> </p><p>Akko and Diana both backed away, gripped by terror. Now, Akko had a reason to weep. </p><p> </p><p>“Then…!” Nikolai started again before falling into a coughing fit. Now on one knee, he redoubled his efforts. “Then…” His speech fell short one final time as he bellowed and howled in a pain that struck his very soul. “AAAGH!” The Arrow was wrent free and faded in his hands to emerald dust on the wind. Then, all was quiet, until Nikolai stood up uneasily and raised his head. “Then you should have aimed for mine.” Sure enough, a hole the size of his forearm was left in the dead center of his chest, revealing a tear in the cape over his back and the skyline beyond it. His heart lay just six inches to the left, untouched, and so painfully out of reach. </p><p> </p><p>The Twins, now clearly in sight of the two most wanted witches they would likely ever know, whispered to another. “To think fate would be so kind to deliver the Key unto us!” Cause said with barely contained mirth. </p><p> </p><p>Effect spoke with the slightest hesitation though. “Celebrate that victory when we actually possess it! We must find the others! With haste!” With that, they were away at aircutting speed. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai bent over with strained breaths and grunts to pick up his sword and leveled it at both Akko and Diana. His other hand was held over the gaping wound and his posture was bent over. He had not known true injury in centuries, and now he was face to face with the “youths” Chariot must have been speaking of. The fact that they had well and truly wounded him intrigued him greatly. <em> “Finally!” </em> He thought to himself. <em> “A true test!” </em>He raised his right leg to step forward with brutal intent; his strength was returning, though quite stymied. That fact alone had Chariot second guessing the ability of Akko and Diana to finish it. She trusted them above all else, but she could clearly see that they had spent so much of their energy to get here that there was likely little they could do in the face of such unstoppable and reckless hate. It was in that moment of realization that Chariot unfroze herself from despair and made a desperate choice.</p><p> </p><p>“Run!” Chariot called out with all due haste. Using the last of her strength, before Nikolai’s foot could hit the ground, she lurched up and wrapped her arms around his raised limb and whipped her lower half around such that she would roll off of the edge of the platform. Nikolai fell with a thud and lost grip of his sword immediately. He was clawing at the platform frantically as his body slid back until he found purchase just on the edge. </p><p> </p><p>“CHARIOT!” Diana shrieked as she began to run forward purely out of emotional instinct. She was reigned in by Akko who grabbed her left arm and pulled her back down the stairs as she cried and screamed. “NO! CHARIOT!” She cried tears she never knew she had. </p><p> </p><p><em> “C-Cherry! What’re you doing!?” </em>Alcor flew down beside the dangling Chariot in a confused fit.</p><p> </p><p>“We can’t stay here!” Akko urged through clenched eyes and an uneasy tone. She wasn’t even sure what to think anymore, but she knew to listen to Chariot up until the end. If Chariot wanted them to run, they’d run. “We have to go! This’ll only work if we get to the library!” Akko still tried to find some conceivable line of action that would see Chariot surviving this endeavor, even if that seemed well and truly impossible. It was the only thing keeping her going in that moment. </p><p> </p><p>From her dangling position over the edge, Chariot was forced to endure the receding cries of Diana and Akko as they ventured back into the academy. Each stung more than the pain in her arm which was now almost unbearable. She would have to let go soon or risk having that limb be torn away, but if she didn’t bring Nikolai down with her then he’d have an opportunity to chase after them. Worse, she wasn’t exactly sure of how she’d get down from this. </p><p> </p><p><em> “No, no, no! It don’t end like this!” </em>Alcor had tried pecking and screeching Nikolai with all of their might, but Nikolai merely ignored the bird. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Alcor!” </em> Chariot thought, and in turn, was heard. <em> “Remember what you agreed to do! You said you’d stay with them…. So go!”  </em></p><p> </p><p><em> “Cherry, I thought we were stickin’ it through to the end! Y-You can get out of this! You can </em> —” Chariot’s glare, equally as sorrowful as it was demanding, silenced Alcor. They squawked mournfully. <em> “I know! I know! I’m gonna!” </em>Chariot couldn’t bring much more words to bear as she strained to just hold on. </p><p> </p><p>Their conversation was interrupted by the half laughing voice of Nikolai. “Now… this! This is the old foe I knew!” He laughed bealourbedly. “I misjudged you, witch!” He looked down with an unhinged sort of joy at Chariot. “I still fail to understand what you fight for…. But I know now that you will do anything for your cause.” He raised his unheld boot up. “And for that, I will remember you fondly.” His voice turned twistedly grim as the boot came down to strike at Chariot’s arms. The metal of his greaves bruised flesh and bone alike, threatening to knock her loose! </p><p> </p><p>Chariot yelped at every sickening stomp that struck her arms. She could feel her bones being bruised by the steel greaves and felt new wounds open where the metal scraped along her flesh. When the boot struck her already injured arm, she yelped in acute pain, fearing that every successive blow to the limb would be the last she felt before it was torn away. Her strength was fading fast, and she was still at a loss for a plan that didn’t end in her own death. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Cherry…. Chariot, I’m sorry.” </em> Alcor turned their head to the side as they flitted around Chariot’s body. <em> “I’ll do it. I’m not goin’ back on that promise. You saved me once, and now I’m payin’ ya back for it. J-Just… hold still.” </em>Alcor flew in close and with haste; they wouldn’t have much time to conduct the separation with Nikolai kicking away at her. </p><p> </p><p>Chariot leaned her head in to touch Alcors, and with their eyes closed in emotional and physical pain, the bond between familiar and witch was severed; it was a silent affair that took place within the spirit and mind, only they knew the intense sadness that came with the breaking of said bonds. Usually, such separations are done through ceremony and celebration, following the olde traditions. When death was imminent like this however, such traditions were cast aside in favor of practicality.</p><p> </p><p>Now free of their link to Chariot, Alcor, a once haggard white-grey bird, returned to their old self so to speak: Their feathers became resplendently clean. Their wingspan doubled, their beak grew in size, and the magic within returned. Sadly for both of them, beings made into familiars, once bonded, could never release their magicks unless linked to another; Alcor would need to make a pact with either Akko or Diana in accordance with Chariot’s last request. Alcor squawked and chirped some final goodbye, but because of their newly severed bond, Chariot could no longer understand her friend. </p><p> </p><p>Alcor flew away then, off to find where Diana and Akko had gotten to, and hoped dearly that they were not far along.</p><p> </p><p>As all grew quiet save for the thuds and blows of Nikolai’s boots, Chariot thought deeply. <em> “If death is the price I have to pay to save them…. Then I’m sorry.” </em> She would pay it, but she knew that in dying, they would be left with wounds that would never heal. <em> “I suppose no matter what I did I was bound to hurt them again…. What a sick joke this all is.” </em>Chariot allowed quiet tears to roll down her face as she called on all the magic her body could handle. Her right palm glowed brightly, but burned worse. Flakes of skin flitted away in the wind as her body broke down at the point where the magic was gathering; the Wagandea spores cursed her to the end. </p><p> </p><p>She leveled the glowing palm upwards and aimed at the stone edifice of the tower. “Murowa!” She cried out as the final stomp from Nikolai collided with her wounded arm and snapped the bones near her wrist. The blast flew past Nikolai’s face and destroyed the stone he was holding onto, sending both of them into a free fall to the central courtyard below. Time moved slowly, like sludge, as Chariot wracked her mind one final time for any last words she might have for herself. </p><p> </p><p>Surprisingly, the words that came to mind were that of a spell, one she had almost wholly forgotten of. Akko had actually designed the spell so that she could more easily practice with her broom while not being constantly buffeted and bruised by her inevitable tumbles and falls. It had of course only been meant for use at low heights, but it was better than nothing, and it furthermore, it was a simple enough enchantment that Chariot could actually cast it. The words escaped her lips in a whisper as her eyes closed and consciousness faded. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Galer… Galera…!”  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>With Diana in her arms, sobbing and struggling meekly, Akko aimed her wand at the doorway they had just exited. “Murowa! Murowa!” Two bolts blew apart the stone and wood entrance, sealing it behind them, and left the two lovers alone in a mostly ruined hallway. </p><p> </p><p>Akko fell against the wall beside the now sealed passage upward, and into her chest, Diana fell too. Diana was limp, crying dryly, and near inconsolable, where Akko was silent, rigid, and scrambling for words to explain how things would work out in the end. The words never came. </p><p> </p><p>They spent a solid minute or two in eachothers’ arms, never sharing a word nor looking up, until Akko pulled Diana just a bit closer and whispered. “We need to go.” Her voice was pitifully quiet and weak, even as she searched the deepest depths of her soul for the strength to persist. She had promised to stand tall when Diana fell down, but what was she to do when both of them were floored? “We need to go….” Her words became more uneasy as her eyes glistened with tears. </p><p> </p><p>“She’s dead….” Diana sobbed over and over again. “She’s dead and we couldn’t help her.” Diana internalized every fault possible. She didn’t listen to her gut when it mattered most. She didn’t heed Chariot’s warnings. She didn’t rush to find her immediately upon awakening. “We should have come sooner!” She pathetically hit the wall behind Akko with a balled fist. </p><p> </p><p>“We couldn’t have.” Akko reasoned. “The… the…” A sniffle and stuttering breath interrupted her train of thought. “We would have… left behind so many… so many….” She couldn’t finish the words before she began to cry in earnest. “Our classmates….” </p><p> </p><p>That almost didn’t register or matter to Diana. Selfishly her mind lingered on the absolute importance of Chariot. She had idolized her as a child and even now as a young adult; she distrusted her, alienated her, in a way abused her, but somehow she still held Chariot in the highest regard. Diana felt incomplete without her. She tried so hard all those years to put her heart back into it; to <em> believe </em> in herself and in Chariot to find that magic. It all seemed for naught now, and Diana was unsure if she’d ever believe in anything again. Still, Diana was brought to her feet by Akko; her one anchoring light amidst the darkness. </p><p> </p><p>“C-Come on Diana. Come on and… and help me.” Akko was still sobbing. “We need to get to the Hologarium chamber. T-They need us…. And, and, and….” Her whole body shivered. “And Chariot asked us to do this. It’s what she would want! I-I… I mean… it’s what she wants.” Denial and impossible hope were Akkos’ only havens from all consuming grief. “She’ll be so proud to see us when it’s all over. I know it!” The two embraced each other with every ounce of strength in their bodies until it hurt to do so before they began to drag themselves down the hall.</p><p> </p><p>Diana nodded slowly. It is what Chariot would want, and Diana had disappointed her mentor enough; she was certain of that. She would not disappoint her post mortem. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Nikolai had braced for an impact that never came. He was held aloft by powers beyond his ken with Will looming in the near distance alongside the other three fates. “Where is it?” The lead Fate demanded. “Where is the Claimh Solas? There were two girls; where are they?” When Nikolai opened his eyes he saw he was just a few feet above the ground, having been mercifully saved from a likely end to his unlife by way of gravity. Chariot’s body, to his surprise, was quite far from where he would have landed, and surprisingly, was completely intact save for her barely connected right arm. Still, he was certain she was dead. She was too still to be alive, and not even a vampire could survive a fall like that, so how could a witch?</p><p> </p><p>“You will answer Us or you will be dropped from an even greater height!” Will reminded Nikolai of his current predicament. </p><p> </p><p>He groaned and grumbled as a not unnoticeable amount of pain was still laden in his chest where the hole yet remained. “They must have fled deeper inside; don’t ask me where they went for I’ve no clue.” Nikolai’s eyes turned up to meet Will’s own. “Now could you put me down? We’ve witches to hunt yet.” Even while in pain and injured, Nikolai would not give up the fight.</p><p> </p><p>The Fates murmured and whispered amongst each other, save for Will who only glowered angrily at Nikolai. “Fine.” She dropped him without any grace to the wet grass of the inner courtyard. “Though your failure to capture them is noted.” </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai shook his head as he gathered his senses and arose from the earth while still clutching at his open wound. “And here you expect me to know what in the blazes a Claimh Solas even is? How could I fail at a task I was not even presented with from the beginning?” Nikolai had wished he could savor the victory and battle he had just experienced but clearly it was more important that he argue seemingly petty matters with The Fates. </p><p> </p><p>Will simply shook her head and ignored his questions, instead posing some of her own to the Twins. “Cause, Effect, who were the witches you saw with the staff?”</p><p> </p><p>“The Cavendish Heir and The Fool wielded it! But it disappeared after they called on its power!” They replied in unison, as expected. </p><p> </p><p>Will’s inscrutable glare was hidden at first from her sisters by the hood as she inhaled long and intensely through her nose before exhaling out of her mouth. “They must have it hidden somewhere within the school so that they can summon it to them at whim. Trickery has to be afoot; the staff does not simply <em> disappear </em>.” She spun about with a sudden gust of wind that startled the other Fates who were cowed just by the white got eyes set upon them. “Find them, and see to it that they are taken prisoner above all—”</p><p> </p><p>Will’s words were cut short by the sudden collapse of a nearby door which was beat down by a cohort of Bathory knights en route to some other location “Lord Zrinski!” The lead vampire knight called out as they caught sight of the scene before them. “You are… woun—”</p><p> </p><p>“Finish that word at your peril!” Nikolai barked in retort. The Fates turned to ostensibly watch this exchange as Nikolai continued. “Now what do you want? You have your orders! Execute them!” </p><p> </p><p>“There is a problem my lord! One we were on our way to handle….” The knights' words trailed off as they approached nervously. Talk of failure was taboo around Nikolai; at least for the vampires. They would usually send a mortal servant to deliver such missives as to avoid decapitation. “The defenders have rallied into small holdouts around the academy and the monstrous minions are just too damn lumbering to reach them!”</p><p> </p><p>Will spoke for Nikolai in this case. “And you cannot muster yourselves to face them head on?” Nikolai turned with a scoff, but said nothing, as it was the question he was going to pose regardless. </p><p> </p><p>The knight, now faced by two short tempered masters, bowed once in apology as his comrades backed away. “T-They are inconsequential, I promise! The true threat lies in the group at the front most section of the building! A wounded fledgling came to me and informed us of an escape attempt!” As if on cue, a distant motorcycle engine roared to life, followed by the burning of rubber against the stone pathways of the main gate. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai stepped to meet the Knight with a slight limp to his step and an awkward posture. He swiped the knight’s sword from his side without even deigning to command his soldier to hand it over. “Bring me a steed, and quickly! Clearly an unseen weakness has taken root in our ranks.” Nikolai’s face was just an inch from the knight's own, who was spared the punishment of death for appearing frightened by the fact that he wore a helm that covered his face. </p><p> </p><p>Will hummed. “Things are developing against our favor. Chaos. See to it that this one does not fail us again.” She spoke of Nikolai in regard to the failure, earning another scowl that she of course ignored in turn. “Cause, Effect, focus your efforts on helping to overwhelm these ‘holdouts.’ Our numbers are great, but not limitless. We shall take to finding the likely wielders of the Claimh Solas.” Her words demanded action, and such, the Fates wasted no time in taking action.</p><p> </p><p>Chaos, as she flew away, called back to Nikolai. “Hurry yourself to the battle! We g-grow…” She wrestled for her thoughts as much as she wrestled for control. “Tired of this! Tired most! Escape if they do, you are blame to!” Her words became a mostly nonsensical soup as her anger rose by the moment. Then she was off into the sky, off to find those meddlesome interlopers, ideally before The Child could enact whatever it was she was attempting . The other Fates left in turn to see to their own tasks.</p><p> </p><p>Nikolai could only pinch the bridge of his nose in acute frustration. “Never have I known more irksome allies….” He opened his eyes to be reminded of the lack of a steed. “Are you all just going to stand there!?” He turned to face his cold-feeted knights. “I ordered you to get me a horse, so <em> get me a horse </em>!” </p><p> </p><p>The knights all jolted in shared fear and surprise at the sudden yell.“YES LORD!” They doggedly chorused before rushing to complete their task. </p><p> </p><p>“God, you’re all simple….” Nikolai palmed at his face. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p><em> A few minutes prior…. </em> </p><p> </p><p>The last of the roadblocks in the way of Sucy, Amanda, Constanze, and their accompanying Antiquarian allies, exploded into charcoal like fragments. The burning skulls were no more, and the fishmen too were subdued or felled alongside a small cohort of vampire knights who were dispersed in a rout. Finally, the way to the front entrance was clear. </p><p> </p><p>Sucy, having delivered the last killing blow against a floating burning skull, found herself caught up in flashes of a terribly familiar face. The human-adjacent shape of the skulls reminded her all too much of the Cinder Fae she nearly summoned years ago. The form of it, what she saw in the flames at least, was humanoid in all ways but consistency; they looked <em> melted </em>, as if they were a being made of pure magma. And the screaming; the skulls own screams were haunting as is, but they too gave off that same air of torment, malice, and confusion that the Cinder Fae of her nightmares did. If only it was confined to nightmares, then she might have coped better with it. It followed her in dreams as well, appearing in flashes as it did now, and on the rarest of occasions, she could swear it was watching her.</p><p> </p><p>And whenever she would see those mental images of it, or of things that reminded her of that day, she would feel goosebumps along her scar. They came, just as predicted, followed by the similarly consistent wave of stinging pain along the wound’s full length; from upper thigh to breast. She gripped her wand rigidly as it was held out by her equally rigid right arm, still pointing it at the place in the air where the burning skull once was. </p><p> </p><p>“Sucy!” Amanda raised her voice in approaching her friend in a jog. She had a cut or two on her face and was starting to get a bit winded after all of the combat they’d been through. The Antiquarians similarly were feeling the early onsets of fatigue, but fought on in spite of it all. “Sucy, you alright?” Amanda was naturally urgent in her questioning, but she was similarly confused. She knew of Sucy’s experience, but had never been told how deeply ingrained it was in her mind. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze came up beside her partner in crime just a moment later, and appeared more distracted by Sucy’s apparent discomfort than the immediate dangers of their circumstances. “Sucy?” She muttered apprehensively. </p><p> </p><p>Sucy shook her head and let her arm drop as her Antiquarian comrades collected themselves and came to stare at Sucy; she had chosen to lead them after all, even if she was just a recruit. “I’m fine! I’m fine.” A shiver ran along her whole body as she tensed her knuckles with finality before her posture became familiarly fluid and limber, though not so much as to be off guard; they were still in a would be warzone after all. “Did we lose anyone?” Sucy’s eyes flit about in search of her comrades while simultaneously shooing away any notion that the fiery faced spectre was watching her from the peripherals of her vision.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze, unconvinced, but knowing they could speak nothing of it now, shifted her focus on their numbers. “Two…. Two deaths.” It truly never got easier to remark on the dead by way of numbers, but they were strangers to her otherwise; Constanze would do her best to remember them all the same. The dead witches had been flanked by the vampires who cut them down with brutal efficiency only to be lit up by a whole host of spells and curses moments after. Eighteen remained, Constanze, Amanda, and Sucy included. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda cursed under her breath and let her eyes wander to the side for a moment before she spoke up. “We can’t stay still for long.” It was awkward to feel as though she were merely brushing aside their deaths, but to be idle now was to jeopardize everything, and they could already hear distant whooping and cries of other magical creatures out for blood. “Come on, we’re near the main entrance.” Amanda’s eyes, along with that of most of the witches present, lingered on the corpses of the fallen for just a moment more as they each made to begin to run once more; others averted their gazes entirely. It would hurt more to look. </p><p> </p><p>For mercy, they found the way ahead to be clear of all save scattered bodies of magical creatures, fae, vampires, and fallen witches, and so they arrived at the final corridor leading outside. They passed by the pillars of the foyer that once stood tall gleamed, only to find them muddied or bloodied or felled by terrible strength and spell. Then, as they exited into the early morning gloom and doom, they tread upon the massive wooden doors that had been toppled in the earliest phase of the assault. They had only ever fallen as such one other time; when the witch hunts gripped the land.  </p><p> </p><p>Once out into the open air, they could clearly see that the immediate grounds surrounding the schools were mostly clear of enemies. It made little sense at first, but Constanze was keen enough to spot movement in the forests surrounding the edge of the campus. The enthralled beings were coming in waves, and those that remained behind skulked and searched for any hiding or run away witches. Luna Nova had its work cut out for it yet.</p><p> </p><p>More importantly, Amanda caught sight of her motorcycle, and while it appeared unharmed, she had to check. She sprinted over to it accompanied by her more measuredly paced allies, and slapped the keys into the ignition; one turn brought it to standby, and she smiled with more relief than she’d ever known. There was gas in it; tons, and the tires weren’t flat either. The engine didn’t stall, and everything appeared to be in place. “We’re in business!” </p><p> </p><p>A collective wave of sighs ran over the otherwise wary group while Constanze squeezed past a few crowding witches to reach the bike. “Mm-mm.” She shook her head. “Need to attach this first.” The drill bit was raised up in one hand as her other went to sloughed off the backpack keeping all of her tools together.</p><p> </p><p>“Right!” Amanda had almost forgotten, having been swept up in the brief joy of knowing her bike was safe. She undid the keys and stepped aside. “All yours then Conz! </p><p> </p><p>“Mhm.” Constanze spared no time in getting to work and knelt down near the front of the crimson bike with her assembled belongings. “Cover me. Need a minute.” The first thing to be dug from her sack was the welding mask from earlier, and she quickly slapped it onto her head and adjusted it as needed before giving a thumbs up. </p><p> </p><p>Sucy dispersed the crowd with some light shoves and hand motions. “Spread out! We need to give Constanze a buffer zone in case something comes after her.” Sucy minded her volume as to not draw the attention of distant foes, but raised it enough to be heard. She drew a semi circle on the horizon of her vision around the fountain. “Let's make two ranks! Witches confident enough to fight if they get close up front; focus on keeping barriers up. Second group will focus more on the skies; we’re going to take off on brooms once Amanda and Constanze get moving, and if we’re already swarmed from above that’s not going to be possible. Got it?”</p><p> </p><p>Various agreements and callouts for positions various Antiquarians would be covering rang out after and the defensive formation took hold; a wide circle around the fountain was made, and each of the outermost witches incanted a spell similar to, but weaker in power, the one Ibrahim had called on several nights before. The powers and teachings of the second of the Nine Olde Witches, Ishtar, was brought to bear. A large, mostly translucent dome formed on the outer perimeter, allowing for fire from within but preventing attacks from without. The second smaller circle formed too and kept their wands, staves, and tomes of lore at the ready to blast and vex anything that came close. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda took up post near the bike beside Sucy, holding the stolen blade in her right hand at waist height, and scanned the treelines over and over again. “How long is this gonna take anyway?” She called over her shoulder to Constanze. </p><p> </p><p>“Not long. Minute or two if you don’t rush.” Constanze tested her blowtorch by blasting the flames through the focus of her wand, turning the normal heat of the tool into a hyper-precise and doubly heated beam; it might as well have been creating a small laser. “A hand here?” Constanze looked over to Sucy who obliged as quickly as she could. “Hold it in—Yes, right there.” With the drill bit in place, Constanze could weld away with ease. It wasn’t exactly the method she preferred (just slapping the thing onto the very front of the wheel guard and calling it a day), but they lacked both the time and resources to get a proper mount ready. The real concern lay in gaining enough speed to smash through the dome without just totalling the bike. To solve that, Constanze would have to employ her admittedly novice magitronic abilities; Croix was a good teacher, but her field was dense, and Constanze had only just breached the theoretical and “model” stage of learning. </p><p> </p><p>The next minute passed by slowly; they had gone unnoticed for now, but none of them were under the illusion that secrecy could be maintained forever. Amanda paced back and forth and tapped with one foot in a discordant rhythm. She couldn’t stand to sit by and listen to the sounds of distant combat without channeling all of that energy out into action, even if their plan demanded it. “Hurry up Conz! I don’t have a good feelin’ on this!” Nervousness and impatience were a terrible combination.</p><p> </p><p>“What did she say about rushing?” Sucy snapped back with a slight leer. Amanda shook her head in response and groaned as Sucy continued. “Are we spotted?” From her bent down position she could hardly look above the large fountain. </p><p> </p><p>One of the nearby Antiquarians replied. “Not yet…. I think? It’s hard to tell. They’re moving so—” Their words were drowned out and halted by the sudden roaring hiss of some gargantuan creature; it was approaching fast. “Something’s coming!” The surrounding witches, Amanda and Sucy included, with the latter just peaking her eyes over the rim of the fountain, turned to face the encroaching thing.</p><p> </p><p>It came from the forest, nearly as tall as some trees, and snapped wantonly at any that stood in its lumbering path with its many serpentine heads. It’s scaled and slimy body sheened even in darkness, appearing to be a bright teal with yellow lines along it’s quadrupedal back and long, forked tail. A hydra had come for them, barreling out of the forest, as wide as a truck, with pure ferocity! It had likely smelled them before it saw them, but there was no question now that it was out to devour every last witch and then some; no magic could fully repress its limitless hunger.</p><p> </p><p>The Antiquarians could have held back any number of smaller enemies, but something of this weight class was far beyond repelling, and they acted in kind. Calls for retreat came soon after the worried explicatives and panicked statements ran their course. “Conz!” Amanda shouted with an unhealthy dose of fear in her voice. “Weld faster!”</p><p> </p><p>Sucy, as wide eyed as could be, looked to Constanze and nodded in agreement with Amanda’s desperate request before she pulled away to rally her comrades. “Mount up! There’s no way we’re killing that thing!” She followed her own instructions first, but reiterated. “Stay with me and stay high! We can’t abandon the bike now but we can’t just get eaten either!” </p><p> </p><p>“There!” Constanze exclaimed in the midst of Sucy’s rallying. The weld job was so, so very far from perfect, but when you have ten heads worth of oversized snakes attached to a body the size of an elephant charging at you there wasn’t much room to complain about shoddy welding. “Start it!” She partly begged Amanda.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda, being a step ahead, mostly out of fear, had hopped onto her seat like any stereotypical road warrior might; helmet be damned, she forgot it in her room! Constanze clambered onto it clumsily with her backpack thrown on her shoulder in one whipping motion and naged onto Amanda for dear life. </p><p> </p><p>The engine roared to life as every Antiquarian, Sucy included, took to the air. The tires screamed as they went from motionless to blinding speed in a seconds time, leaving dark black skid marks all along the stone pathway as the bike was steered to circle the academy. There wasn’t a soul who didn’t hear that, and so from the forest and air surrounding the “docked” airship came another wave of magical minions; as if the hydra wasn’t enough! </p><p> </p><p>The broom bound witches kept pace with Amanda and Constanze, but almost immediately found themselves in a fighting retreat; a one sided dogfight where they flew and ran from any variety of flying things just to keep up with the witches below while dodging attacks with every turn and duck. They could seldom return fire at first, and sure enough, two more were torn from their brooms near instantly by roused gargoyles and a large thunderbird. Their screams joined the chaotic chorus of that battle filled morning, soon made worse by the blasting of wanton spells and hexes backward at pursuing foes or at swiping things from below. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda fared little better, especially since she lacked any vertical movement. The crowds of enemies running to intercept the bike’s trajectory were many, and every dodge or slide in between them only served to slow the bike down. Eventually, they’d be overrun, and that Hydra behind them showed no signs of stopping. It stepped on and crushed its own “allies” without a care, and even gobbled up one or two smaller minions with its more erratic and errant heads. “CONZ! What now!?”</p><p> </p><p>“WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME!?” She screamed with her face pressed against Amanda’s back. She’d never ridden a motorcycle before, and after this she wasn’t sure if she’d ever want to again. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, do something! I’m kinda driving here!” Amanda struggled to think let alone speak as she focused on the proverbial death-road. When there was space, or when there wasn’t any at all, Amanda would whip her wand up from her belt and blast a spell at anything that immediately caught her eye. </p><p> </p><p>“Fine! Fine!” Constanze worked up the courage to pull her head away from Amanda’s back and managed to rifle her caster blaster out of her backpack. Before she could afix her wand to it though, she saw an impossible situation before them. </p><p> </p><p>“Shit, shit, SHIT!” Amanda began as they rode towards a shield wall of possessed suits of armor; there was no way they could avoid it normally. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze, with what knowledge she had of elemental magic, cast a spell that altered the earth itself. A minor slope formed ten feet or so before the steadfast shieldwall just moments before Amanda’s would crest it. The vehicle was sent up and over the ranks of armor while both of them screamed; Constanze purley out of fear, and Amanda, mostly out of fear, but partly knowing that this was <em> “FUCKING SICK!” </em>as she might phrase it. </p><p> </p><p>Less “fucking sick” was the near miss the Hydra made with a lunging snap as the duo was airborne. Mercifully, it’s overextension saw it tripping into the crowd of possessed suits of armor whose weapons jabbed into its belly, bringing it to below and thrash about, and sending steel helmets and chest plates flying; make no mistake, it was only annoyed, not wounded.</p><p> </p><p>As the bikebound duo landed, they found the remainder of the lap ahead of them to be clear, for the moment at least. They both breathed heavily, but only Amanda laughed as if she had stared death in the face and snubbed it.</p><p> </p><p>Back in the air, all the while, Sucy and her compatriots were caught between a fast paced dance of passing on aggression of one train of horrors to one witch and then another. For every pair of wings they blasted out of the sky, it felt like another took its place. Only a few of the more veteran Antiquarians and Sucy were able to make dents in pursuers numbers. Sucy tossed back stowed potion after hidden concoction from her robe until she reached into her robe and found nothing. <em> “Damnit!” </em>She hissed to herself. Her brews incinerated, petrified, liquified, and generally disabled anything they touched, but it was only enough to buy them a brief reprieve. </p><p> </p><p>This was especially so because of the terrible flanking force that charge in from above the roof of the academy and down toward the flying escorts. Nikolai and his soldiers had come, lances couched, with Chaos in tow. “K-KILL! STOMP THEM OUT!” The aforementioned Fate sputtered at a piercingly shrill volume. “M-M… MEDDLING INSECTS!” Her true form, with all of the irony lost on Chaos, exposed itself in a flash of paradoxically “dark light.” Her mosquito, no, moth like, no, mantis? Whatever this form was like, it was insectoid, alien, and not revealed or used without a damn good reason; her sickness would only get worse with every transformation.</p><p> </p><p>Chaos buzzed toward Amanda and Constanze as the six horsemen from the Bathory clan, with Nikolai among them, charged the broom mounted witches; the results were as catastrophic as could be imagined by the defenders. Four of the six vampires found their marks and either impaled, or in the case of Nikolai bisected, one Witch whose lives were immediately cut short. The battle cries rang out, accompanying the sickening cries and gurgles of the newly deceased, further dampening the morale of the remaining witches. “NIGHT HAS FALLEN! NIGHT HAS FALLEN!” </p><p> </p><p>Sucy was spared only by way of a comrades own quick wit. He had conjured illusory blinds over the horse and rider which had the vampire’s steed speeding past as they struggled to remove the wholly fake, but all too real, cover over their helmets. The horse, while undead and not conventionally “afraid,” fell upon its instincts it had in life, and stampeded off while bucking in the air; the vampire astride it was tossed form his saddle and careened into a tree at the forest's edge while the dread-steed kept riding on into the looping dome. </p><p> </p><p>A fiercer and more desperate dogfight ensued; the witches were slower than the vampire cavalry, but they had the advantage of numbers if they turned to fight then and there, and so they did. Sucy called out to Constanze and Amanda as they sped off, her words becoming only barely noticeable due to the loud noises surrounding them all. “KEEP GOING! We’ll hold them here!” The last sight they had of her had Sucy screaming in toward Chaos from behind; a sorcererous bolt from the Filipino witch brought crows and ravens to manifest from the shadows to briefly harry the Fate witch, throwing off her trajectory. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze halted herself from reaching out instinctively toward Sucy; she feared for her safety above all else, but they couldn’t just ride around aimlessly. The duo needed to find a relatively safe path out, and the main gate was still closed, so that was likely out of the question. Surprisingly, the answer didn’t so much as come to Constanze as it did appear before hers and Amanda’s eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“You seeing this!?” Amanda called back over the roar of her own vehicle. </p><p> </p><p>Sure enough, Constanze could as she turned back to look over Amanda’s shoulder. A section of the forest was parting, as if the trees, shrubs, stones and all, decided to make way for them. The only sight of movement down that new road lay underneath the earth, as if a great worm had been snaking through the soil, though it was perfectly flat and undisturbed in spite of that. Amanda had already overshot it by the time they realized how clear the path seemed. “Did you do that!?” Amanda asked, having seen Constanze use her earth bending magicks. Sure enough, Constanze shook her head, though as she resettled her vision back on the path, she could have sworn she saw a garrishly crimson flower slither into the deeper darkness of the surrounding forest. “Well you don’t hear me compla—!” Amanda began, distracting Constanze, only for them both to be interrupted by the gaping maws of the hydra that had come in their path; the beast was charging them down from the opposite direction now!</p><p> </p><p>Both Constanze and Amanda screamed as the bike dodged in between three darting heads that all buried themselves in the earth in an attempt to gobble the bike up. Constanze, with a fumbling pair of hands, blasted off three random shots at a fourth head that slithered in from the left, causing it to recoil and roar annoyedly in pain.</p><p> </p><p>As they came past the main body of the hydra, they were forced to duck to avoid the whipping forked tail of the overgrown lizard. After that, Amanda raised her head up along with her voice. “OK! NOW I’M COMPLAINING! FUCK THIS SNAKE!” Even daredevils had their limits!</p><p> </p><p>“Just drive!” Constanze began with a stammer. “I-I’ve got an idea! Hold on!” And so she began to cast the magitronical spell that would see the motorcycles power tripled. It required no movement of the wand or incantation of old, but instead, demanded Constanze “feel” the “spirit” and “heartbeat” of the machine; or whatever it was Croix had said in their last class. Constanze wasn’t sure how to <em> exactly </em> do that, but it was worth the old college try! She closed her eyes, rested her hands on as much metal-bits as she could, and focused intensely on the machine she rode upon. If only she had some of those “bytes” that Croix used to modify machines and other metal objects.</p><p> </p><p>Meanwhile, back with the dogfighting witches, Chaos managed to free herself from the crow-swarm with a mad scream and burst of eldritch magic that saw the false birds evaporate as though wiped away by a nuclear wind. “RAAH!” She scoured the skies and ground about in a semi-delirious fit until she saw Sucy flying toward her with a dagger drawn. “YOU!” Her mandibles clacked and clicked the words. Chaos remembered Sucy from the earlier night; her impudence then had not been forgotten. Stranger though, Chaos felt she remembered Sucy from another time, in appearance at least. She knew nothing of that prior or future context, save that Sucy’s very existence angered her. She <em> hated </em> Sucy, both at this moment for reasons of annoyance, and for some greater existential reason that would need to be sorted out later. </p><p> </p><p>Chaos <em> loathed </em> that she couldn’t just kill Sucy then and there, but such was her own bargain with powers beyond her reckoning. She’d do the next best thing and remove her from the field instead. Chaos gurgled and chittered incoherently as her left arm shot out in a mess of tendrils and tentacles. Sucy cut through the first few limbs, but soon she and her broom were overtaken. “BEGONE!” Before Sucy could even begin to struggle, her broom and body were flung at terrible speed toward the general direction of the New Moon tower. Even if she didn’t fall to her death, which to an extent Chaos was counting on for the Pact’s sake, she’d be so far away from the conflict and busy collecting her likely shocked body that she would be a temporary nonfactor. </p><p> </p><p>Sucy’s shouting faded quickly as she became too distant to be heard. Chaos’ focus then resettled as her impossibly long limb reformed into something resembling a pincer proportional to her body. <em> “Where are they!?” </em> She thought nearly aloud in search of the motorcycle riding witches. Instead, she found Nikolai being wrapped up by the obvious distraction of the Antiquarians, and worse, he was <em> losing </em>. </p><p> </p><p>The wound in Nikolai’s chest proved more than an annoyance, for even while on horseback he found it difficult to properly pivot to swing at or block targets who came his way. The once minor pain had become intense, and he had not known such suffering in ages, leaving him exposed to the dancing blades of two Antiquarians. The cuts were minor, and his regeneration was great enough to counteract anything severe, but eventually they would have to get lucky and either pierce his heart or remove his head; the only ways his life could be ended outside of absolute immolation or annihilation, and, of course, sunlight.  </p><p> </p><p>Chaos stepped in, to her absolute displeasure and rancor, to relieve Nikolai of his assailants. With both arms outstretched and mutated into a mess of various limbs and grabbers, both Antiquarians were taken off of their brooms and slammed to the ground below with just enough force to disorient them, but not enough to severely wound them. Their brooms were smashed on the other hand, leaving them stranded on the ground with any number of monsters who were marauding about. “FOCUS! LOSING FOCUS!” Chaos shouted as her arms receded once more beneath her cloak.</p><p> </p><p>Nikolai breathed heavily thrice before settling into a low growl. “Your assistance is unnecessary, creature!” His free hand retreated once more to cover his wound.</p><p> </p><p>“THEN GET THEM!” Chaos pointed at the newly sighted Amanda and Constanze as they came around in their second lap; sure enough more enthralled minions were after them despite both of their attempts to blow the crowds away. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai’s only response was a snarl as his dread steed bucked up and whinnied before charging down to meet the bike bound duo As he did so, he recognized the hair of Amanda and hadn’t forgotten that slight against him earlier in the battle. His sword was raised up to shoulder height and swung out horizontally to try and behead the riding witches. </p><p> </p><p>With Nikolai fast approaching, Amanda cursed to herself. “Fucking—Not this guy again! DUCK!” Both of them lowered their bodies as close to the bike as was possible and only raised themselves back up once the sound of air being cut above them had passed. Nikolai was quick to make a u-turn and continue the pursuit, and after having failed to deal with them swiftly, Chaos made to follow beside the bike, using her extreme speed to stay neck and neck with the vehicle. “God dammit, you too!?” Chaos snapped her mandibles threateningly at them both; she was powerless to directly strike either of them, and destroying the bike now would easily kill them both, so all Chaos could do for now was watch and menace until an opportunity appeared.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze, having been focused on her magitronical spell the whole time, only opened her eyes for a moment to catch sight of Chaos beside the vehicle and nearly lept out of her skin. “SCHEßE!” She closed her eyes again just so she wouldn’t have to look at Chaos any further, and diverted all focus back onto trying to “commune” with the bike. Sure enough, something suddenly “clicked” in her head; she began to hear a strange tune or melody that ran in sync with the motion of every piston and piece of the engine. Every noise the bike could have been making formed a sort of symphonic band, with Constanze mentally framed as the conductor. She could tell, just by imagining each bolt and screw, that they were awaiting her instruction.</p><p> </p><p>“Conz! You alright!?” Amanda called out as she pushed the bike even harder to narrowly avoid another swipe from behind by the persistent vampire lord. </p><p> </p><p>“I... think I got it?!” Constanze replied with confusion as she looked down to her hands that had become enveloped in a teal light.</p><p> </p><p>“Got what!?” Amanda veered far to the right as they made their way into the final lap, passing that conveniently inviting forest entrance one last time; luckily that hydra had gotten distracted by the diligent Antiquarians who remained in the air. Nikolai came up for another attack, this time from beside the bike, but found his blade blocked by an unexpected metal beam that shot out from the side of the motorcycle‘s frame. “HOLY SHIT WHAT THE—”</p><p> </p><p> “Magitronics! Don’t ask!” She explained as quickly as she could as her eyes fell down to the shimmering bike; the metal pieces were morphing as if solid-liquids, but the stability never faded.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda turned her eyes back to the “road,” as it were. “G-Got it!” She could only hope her bike would be in one piece by the end of all of this. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai pulled away in his pursuit at the inexplicable block. “Accursed machines!” He bellowed in anger as he was again overtaken by the motorcycle once more. Still, his chase persisted. </p><p> </p><p>Chaos, to her credit, was doing what she could within reason by willing specific minions and creatures along the way to tear at the earth or throw themselves into the bike, but Amanda’s driving skills were too much for such simple roadblocks to work. With every attempt though, she could feel greater and greater resistance, and soon she’d have to resort to a more drastic measure. <em> “Child! Away with you! You doom us both if you sabotage Us once again!” </em>No response came. Chaos wasn’t sure whether that was for better or worse, but she couldn’t probe that question just yet and instead kept her attention on the chase at hand. </p><p> </p><p>Every bob and weave the bike made from then on was smoother and more precise in every slight adjustment made to it. Amanda was less driving as much as she was guiding the machine while Constanze did the heavy lifting. Neither Nikolai nor Chaos could come close to touching them now, and that queer forest path was coming once more. “Take the turn!” Constanze commanded both to the bike and to Amanda who obliged. </p><p> </p><p>Chaos, having not expected their quick change in direction, overshot the two and was left woefully in the dust. She swore and cursed in a thousand tongues all at once with her clacking mandibles. “Faster! FASTER!” She demanded of Nikolai while sending him aid in the form of a magical boon of speed for his steed. Now aided by the very wind itself, Nikolai was sure to catch them. Then, as Chaos tried to begin her pursuit again, she came to see what lay at the end of the unnatural path made in the tree-line: The worst of her fears were made manifest in the form of the wound made in the dome’s structure. Chaos had sensed and seen the mithril ramming-piece as well, and knew that, should the bike hit its mark, the witches would undoubtedly run free. </p><p> </p><p>That was unacceptable for her own safety and for the assurance of their mission; nothing could be left to chance. Chaos lifted both arm-like limbs up and outstretched them, their forms coalesced into blackened and malleable mimics of her “human” arms. Eldritch power gathered in the palms; she would see their path wholly destroyed and turned into a crater, even if it might lead to her violating the Pact by extension. Her incantations faltered though; the words were jumbled, another voice spoke through in her head. <em> “I won’t let you hurt them!” </em>The Child had surfaced from her abyssal journeys in the murky waters of the mind to halt Chaos’ attack! A struggle of forces began as Chaos’ arms shook and aimed wildly across the horizon of her vision, throwing off her aim and focus as the energies continued to swell and coalesce in her hands; she would have to release it soon before the spell backfired spectacularly, but The Child had ruined her aim! </p><p> </p><p>As this occured, Nikolai came perilously close to ending the lives of the riding witches. He drew close as the bike’s liquid-metal form created an “inconspicuous” red button on the right handle marked by a symbol for fire. “We got nitro on this thing!?” Amanda asked rhetorically. In that moment too, Constanze could hear the ominous grunts and panting of the undead horse behind her draw closer. She spun her body around, blaster in hand and wand stocked inside, and aimed at Nikolai. </p><p> </p><p>It was the first time the two had properly seen each other’s faces, and they both felt their limbs freeze up. Their eyes locked for a long few moments as each searched the darker dwellings of their memory. <em> “You.” </em> They both unwittingly whispered in unison. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze knew that face all too well. She had seen it in the footage of her home's destruction. This was the man who had killed her family; this is the man who she would kill in turn. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai had kept hold of those images stolen from Christopher Von Braunschbank Albrechtsberger’s wallet; Constanze fit the bill for the unaccounted for family member near perfectly. The picture he had absconded with was one when she was younger, and was in fact the last one ever taken before Constanze left for Luna Nova and never came back. Constanze was older now, but the most prominent of details and resemblances remained. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze and Nikolai burned with an immediate and intense rage, but before either of them could deliver their fury unto one another, Amanda pressed down hard on that aforementioned red button. The bike roared to life with a flame all it’s own, and Amanda could feel that burning in her chest return.</p><p> </p><p>The flame, once but a candlelight’s size, became worthy of a torch. It brought no pain to its host but inspiration and valor to mirror Amanda’s own!</p><p> </p><p>The motorcycle morphed at the rear end: The engine became jagged and shined with magical energies. The exhausts shot out blue streams of what could have been mistaken for fire but was in truth pure magical exhaust. Rocks and dirt were kicked up from beneath the unstoppable tires of the vehicle as it zoomed away from Nikolai’s grasp once more, though he pushed his undead horse to it’s absolute limit in return, aided by Chaos’ boon. </p><p> </p><p>Just as the escaping witches were about to collide with the wound in the dome, Chaos was forced to loose her spell. She cried in agony as the inchoate flesh of her arms began to flake away from the amassed power in her hands. The beam, predictably, went wide, and landed off in some random part of the forest, exploding the terrain and disintegrating a few hapless trees nearby.</p><p> </p><p>Alas, Chaos had <em> failed </em> once again, and despite Nikolai’s best efforts, Amanda and Constanze broke through the wound in the dome, causing a piercing <em> crack </em>to echo across the battlefield. Shards like wobbling safety glass glimmered and rained down around the bike bound witches and Nikolai. The path ahead of them wound and weaved all the way back toward the main dirt road that connected the ley line tower to Luna Nova, which saw them disappearing from Chaos’ sight. Then, as quickly as the wound opened, it closed again. </p><p> </p><p>Chaos screamed inhumanly and clawed at her face in a fit. A fate worse than death awaited her if this breach wasn’t contained. Regretfully, Chaos would need to inform her sisters to achieve such ends, so she flew off into the morning a moment or so after in search of them. </p><p> </p><p>Back with Amanda, Constanze, and Nikolai, the three had just gotten on to the main dirt road leading from the main gate; this time, Constanze <em> knew </em> she saw that strange red flower again. That hardly phased her though, for her mind was wholly elsewhere. The monster that had ruined her life was also the monster who had attacked her home away from home. He was no longer just responsible for all the dead at Ludinghal, but would be responsible for every witch, friend, or stranger that died today. Constanze would make him pay for every last one of those murders. Her almost primal drive for revenge severed the connection between machine and witch; Constanze would never know true harmony with her craft so long as her anger reigned supreme in her mind.</p><p> </p><p>Nikolai too knew only hatred at that moment. His long hunt would finally come to end with just one turn of the blade more! It was almost discouraging to know that, while Constanze was not exactly a child, she was likely no match for Nikolai. If he could not have a duel for his servants and admirers to immortalize in song, then he would have an execution worthy of his reputation. He shouted with “righteous” fury as he brought his blade up in both hands and swung down to cleave not just Constanze, but the bike’s rear end in two. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze brought her own righteous fury to bear in the form of her blaster. She leveled the sights on his head, seeking a quick kill, but felt a wayward stone jostle the bike just enough to send her first shot wide. It blasted Nikolai’s sword from his hands, sending it wide onto the roadside, and the second shot fired in the heat of the moment hit his horse’s head instead. The enthralled equine was put out of its misery by that singular slug; it’s head was decimated, and it’s body tumbled to the ground with a sickening series of crunches and cracks. Nikolai fell with it, and was similarly left to roll at high speeds. Bones shattered and jutted out of his flesh, but none pierced his heart or brain, and so he would eventually recover. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze though was unsatisfied; the bike was on the tail end of it’s boost, and the distance between her and her target became too great too quickly. Constanze gripped the stock and neck of her weapon with intensity as Nikolai’s body clearly stirred, enough for Constanze to know he was alive. </p><p> </p><p>Now on his knees, held up by one terribly twisted arm, Nikolai could only release his centuries long hatred in one emotional cry to the heavens. “VON BRAUNSCHBAAAAANK!” His very voice cursed the name. Lightning and thunder from the artificial storm above bellowed and flashed as if roused to anger by Nikolai’s own fury. Still, he was too broken to continue fighting. His bloodied form and the corpse of his dread steed faded around the next long curve, leaving Constanze breathing heavily, turned sideways on the bike’s saddle, and staring thousands of yards away through the obstructions into the icon which she channelled all aggression onto. She had half of a mind to leap from the bike and run off to go and finish what that <em> bastard </em> started.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda’s sudden speaking snapped Constanze back to reason then. “Oi! Constanze! Y-You ok?” Amanda could only pretend that she didn’t hear Nikolai call out Constanze by her family name. If she didn’t know before, she knew now. At least Amanda could speak freely once they got a chance to; though she had erred earlier in remarking on the familiarity of Nikolai. Amanda hoped for her own sake that Constanze didn’t think anything of that comment. “We’re good to keep going right? Nothing else chasing us?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” Constanze snapped while removing her wand from her blaster and stowing the latter in her sack of tools. “Nothing following.” Her hatred for Nikolai bled out into her words for Amanda, but part of that anger was meant for her friend. She had indeed picked up on that earlier comment, but hadn’t worked through the proper implications. Her time would come to investigate that later. “Just drive.” She ordered curtly before her body was pivoted to face forward on the now un-magicked and reformed bike. </p><p> </p><p>“R-Right…. Should be at the leyline in a minute or two.” Amanda reassured with sucked in lips that betrayed her tone’s aloofness. Constanze had promised Amanda they would talk sometime; now Amanda was dreading that conversation more than ever. All that was left to do was to focus on driving. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The Fates had assembled just outside the dome, having used their mastery over magics not their own to circumvent the barrier while maintaining its integrity.   </p><p> </p><p>“You understand that with every failure Our patience for your very existence wears ever thinner, correct?” Will’s aggressive monotone barely concealed the abhorrence for her sister in black. Her back was turned to the other three Fates where Chaos hovered sheepishly in between the scowling Cause and Effect, now in her human form. </p><p> </p><p>“Y-Yes, but of course! The hatred is shared in me and of me!” Chaos did in fact loathe much of her existence, but above all, she couldn’t stand that wretched child any further. “Responsibility falls solely on Us! Punishment is deserved, but can be dealt later! Day is not yet lost!” Chaos could still feel that presence near the surface of her subconscious; she’d break free and act on her own again soon if she wasn’t suppressed. To make The Child’s presence known though was to sign her own death warrant; Will wouldn’t hesitate to exercise her right as bearer of the mantle to rip Chaos apart to remove the uncooperative elements of her collective consciousness. It had happened once before, and the process had inadvertently led Chaos to die once more in a particularly painful way. She wouldn’t die again; not by any means! She refused! “Punishment could be… reduced... perhaps? If and only if interlopers are halted, of course!” Chaos pleaded. </p><p> </p><p>Will bristled. Her cloak whipped back in a singularly harsh wind as she inhaled and exhaled. “This will be the last bit of mercy We ever show you.” </p><p> </p><p>“What!?” Cause and Effect both guffawed but immediately were silenced by another harsh wind that had the other three Fates covering their faces with their arms. </p><p> </p><p>“Need We repeat Ourselves?” Will was hardly being “nice” in agreeing to Chaos’ terms. There would still be hell to pay for this breach. </p><p> </p><p>The three other Fates shook their heads at Will’s prior question. “Good.” Will intoned tersely. “Then attend me; we’ll see them stranded here.” </p><p> </p><p>“B-By what means?” Chaos asked against her own will; The Child had briefly seized control of her voice, but mercifully went undetected. </p><p> </p><p>Will thought nothing of the question and obliged to answer it. “The ley line portal: It shall be destroyed.” </p><p> </p><p>Cause and Effect both brightened up at that declaration. “Ohh! We’ve been wanting to do this since we trapped them here!” Cause said while floating to Will’s left side. </p><p> </p><p>Effect floated to Will’s right while speaking as well. “Really why didn’t we start with this?”</p><p> </p><p>“To preserve a semblance of secrecy. Let us hope this does not draw the attention of the mundane…. Their intervention would be… meddlesome.” Will then floated below her prior position as Chaos floated nervously above it; they formed a perfect diamond high above the canopy. </p><p> </p><p>Will extended her arms outward and slowly brought them back toward her center, curling such that her fingers would steeple in an oval shape completed the touching of each fingertip to its opposite counterpart. The other fates followed her motions in sync, as they did her words. Her mouth mouthed signaled speech, but instead of creating conventional noises, more “complex” vibrations were created; ideas and thoughts, emotions and memories, concepts and imagination itself was the alphabet by which the Fate’s spoke. Sound was too basic a form with which to communicate the incants of the spell they called on, and so they instead utilized a language that superseded sound. Each conveyed notion rippled the space around them like a pond in rain.</p><p> </p><p>Traveler’s Cant was the <em> “language of all great things that roam betwixt the dark void that separated stars,” </em> and so it’s means of conveying meaning were expectantly bewildering. Thoughts themselves became the mode of conveying messages, but they did so as a sort of <em> substance </em>. The theoreticals of the mind that used Traveler’s Cant became realities unto themselves, and with those ideas, the Fates would conjure massive runes of bright white, green, red, and black coloring to float in the air respective to their quadrants. The symbols were as alien and confounding as the language that summoned them forth, and their power was even more inscrutable; to stare at one for too long as to know the truth and meaning behind them echoed in one’s own mind.</p><p> </p><p>A great circle formed around the assembled runes and witches, and as their chanting became “louder,” so to speak, the circle did begin to spin. From the bodies of the Fates came four beams of corresponding color, and each shot toward the center of the great sigil to coalescence into a rainbow of unbound energies. Sweat dripped down the faces and brows of the fates and their bodies bubbled; even with the endowments of the Pact, they could not easily wield its full power.</p><p> </p><p>The chanting only grew more intense, and when it rose to a fever pitch, the orb of rainbows split open to reveal one singular eyeball; woe betide those who looked into it! The Pursuer had come in its simplest and smallest form, having been given brief sight of the world it floated toward with dark inevitability by way of it’s unwitting but useful servants.</p><p> </p><p>From its slit iris, the power the Fates called upon was unleashed in a singular concentrated beam of pure, unfettered, and unrestrained eldritch might, straight from the source. It parted the clouds of the false storm and revealed the brief rays of sunlight onto its full length; the resulting cascade of color could unhinge even the most stout and stalwart of mortals. </p><p> </p><p>The ley line portal would be no more. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><em> Just seconds prior…. </em> </p><p> </p><p>“Ok! Pulling up now.” Amanda and Constanze were just twenty seconds or so from riding up on the portal connecting the island of Luna Nova to Blytonbury. The former sighed deeply with relief while the latter could only grunt weakly and nod. Constanze’s heart wasn’t in much right now; she didn't know what to think. Everything kind of hurt or felt wrong as if Constanze had come down with a sudden flu.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda began to break the vehicle slow and steady; she’d traveled here by motorcycle alone when she first came a week or so ago, but it was a real hassle to get the thing floating up into the portal. <em> “Honestly couldn’t they have just put it on the ground like normal? Does it really have to be twenty feet in the air?” </em>She rhetorically thought to herself. </p><p> </p><p>From behind them both, as they drew closer and closer to the tower, the horizon lit up with a primeval glow. In one moment, Amanda and Constanze both turned their heads to look, but were immediately forced to hide their eyes from the burning intensity of what they thought was a second sun. Amanda inadvertently sped up the bike then as she exclaimed: “Ahh! What the hell!?” Constanze would only grumble loudly as she held her arms up in front of her eyes. </p><p> </p><p>The next moment saw them nearly annihilated. </p><p> </p><p>The flow of eldritch power scoured the sky for a mile at least, but first, it made contact with the humble tower which housed the leyline portal atop its precarious precipice over the sea below. The tower wasn’t so much “destroyed” as it was “unmade” when the light washed over the structure. The stones undulated and bubbled before they inevitably faded away as ash in the wind. The earth beneath the structure too was not saved, even though the eldritch light did not touch it directly, and began to crumble and fall away to the waters of the English Channel. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda and Constanze were both rendered temporarily blind by the stream in front of them. Just staring it at had their minds racing at speeds not meant for mortals. It made them feel secret emotions, had them experience wholly alien and inscrutable events taken out of a madman’s dreamscape, and generally befuddled them. In this stunned and shocked state, their bike was sent careening over the edge before they could even reach the now fading tower. Even on their way down toward the water below they found themselves helpless to act against it. The shivering waters engulfed them, and put a merciful end to their chaotic streams of thought with blissful unconsciousness, but left them doomed to drown without aid. </p><p> </p><p>The eldritch light above that stuck out against the soft blue tones of the wee morning light and the grim darkness of the false storm faded slowly soon after. When the beam had faded into nothingness, the natural light returned, revealing a place where a tower no longer stood; the tower <em> never </em> stood there, as far as mortal memory was concerned. It had been erased from the minds of those who had known it, leaving only incomplete scraps of information that could only cause anxiety and dread whenever dwelled on for too long.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>  A tower containing a leyline? What tower? The witches of Luna Nova had always taken a leyline portal from Blytonbury that deposited them…. It deposited…. They…. It was connected to…. It’s not there. What’s not there? Well, the…. I don’t…. Please, let’s move off of this subject. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>This was but some of The Pursuer’s power.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The Fates had spent all of their energy. Chaos nearly fainted but was caught by Effect who floated wearily to her erratic sister’s aid. Cause went to examine the motionless Will but was brushed aside by a warding wave of the hand. “That will do.” Will exhaustedly declared. “Come though. We must… ensure they have not perished. Not yet.”  The Pact must always be upheld, especially when The Pursuer itself was acting alongside them. It followed its own laws set in place by forces and things more ancient than it, and in turn, the Fates had to wield its power in accordance, even if it was but a fraction. </p><p> </p><p>Will began to float toward the sight of the… whatever it was that was there prior, and beckoned her sisters with a simple gesture. “Hurry. Time is still… of the essence.” They wasted no further moments, but struggled all the same to bring enough strength to bear just to maintain their hovering positions. </p><p> </p><p>A few dizzying minutes passed for each of them, with Will alone still making it a point to maintain her composure and show as little weakness as was possible. The others retched and coughed up bile like fluids as needed. Chaos was leaking more of that black sludge from her nose and mouth now and could feel the flesh of her shoulder blades give way to chitinous protrusions and clear insectoid wings befitting a dragonfly. She swore over and over in languages of Earth and beyond as the painful process ran its course. </p><p> </p><p>Effect showed what could be called care as best as she could, but was similarly distracted by her own purple blood that seeped out of her fingertips and ears. She shivered as if hypothermic; Cause was much the same as her Twin, but neither of them had become as mired in the clay like ocean of eldritch power that they were mutating uncontrollably as Chaos did. By all accounts, the Twins could still be easily classified as human, even if some aspects of their host bodies’ physiologies were unorthodox.</p><p> </p><p>Only Will excreted any natural fluids; she was untouched internally by the powers of their eld patron, and accepted only its “gifts” that did not in turn come with a price for wielding them. She had made it a point to gain victory over The Deceiver without miring herself in the same powers that her own foe wielded. The true pain of having wielded such power came mostly in memory for her, rather than physically as it did for the others. It felt all too similar to the power she felt wash over her upon her first death at the hands of The Deceiver. That sensation dug up more tender memories: A forest grove. Wandering hands. Exchanged flowers. Longing eyes. Confessions. Faint drops of blood spilled from Will’s eyes. She wiped them away mercilessly, and with them buried deep the memories once again as a wind blew over her, it sounded like the howling of autumns’ leafy laments</p><p> </p><p>Eventually, the Fates arrived over the place where the non-tower never did stand. Each of the Fates projected their senses down into the cold of the waters below; they sensed the lives of two witches, but that life would fade soon. Will nodded once. “Then it is done. We away.” Will would spend no further time on this island than she needed to. It was starting to get to her like nothing else ever did. </p><p> </p><p>Chaos bent over and released a wretched glop of black sludge from her mouth, chittering violently all the while. During that sickening movement, she waved the other Fates off, wanting for privacy. Cause and Effect were quick to move after Will had nodded in acknowledgment of Chaos’ state, leaving the sickened sister alone to her heaving and purging. </p><p> </p><p>Chaos would have no true privacy though, for once the other Fates had gotten far enough from her, The Child emerged once again through the churning seas of her own subconscious. <em> “I’m sorry,” </em> The Child began <em> “I’ve done so much wrong already. I can’t let you kill anyone else…. I… I think it’s for the better.” </em>The Child couldn’t exactly explain her logic right now, but through her journey, she had come to believe that the Fate’s were on a foolish path. To The Child, it was purely self destructive, even if it was one that purported itself as one of pure vengeance. There would be no rest at the end of that road, only ruin.  </p><p> </p><p><em> “Child, please, I beg of you! For not just my sake but for all within Us!” </em> The Original replied through proverbial sobs and literal vomiting. <em> “I know your heart is good and… and that I have likely erred in entangling you in this sordid business! But you must understand, we do this for the good of the world! Magic shall be humanity's doom, and it’s practitioners have wronged us most severely…. We have tried for peace, and have known only war in return!”  </em></p><p> </p><p><em> “I…. I know.” </em> The Child gulped, so to speak. <em> “Just give them a chance. One last chance. If… if I’m wrong, I’ll take the full blame.” </em>The Child began to manipulate Chaos’ body to conjure up weak magics. The waves below where Amanda and Constanze sank stirred and bubbled. </p><p> </p><p><em> “It doesn’t work like that! You are I, and I you! Us! Us!” </em>Chaos urged. </p><p> </p><p><em> “What if I find my name? I… I haven’t found it yet, but when I do….. Can I be me? Can I get out of Us?” </em>The Child was just that, and such childlike optimism was to be expected. Sadly, Chaos’ fate was never to be a happy one. </p><p> </p><p><em> “No. I, I mean, We, We will still shall suffer greatly for this. We have suffered enough already! Surely you, as someone who almost became a sufferer herself can understand!” </em>The Original was at her wits end; she was not powerful enough to wrest control back from The Child, and neither knew how to properly excise one another without killing either them in some capacity. </p><p> </p><p><em> “I do.” </em> The Child sniffled. <em> “But there’ll be no peace if We keep going like this. Maybe the witches can beat that thing that hurt you. They’re different now, or, well, they can be!” </em> The Child believed in the witches she once knew only as enemies; she was not stymied by hate, nor blinded by the complexities of history and perspective. “ <em> They can… maybe they can save you.”  </em></p><p> </p><p><em> “There is no use dwelling on that. We cannot be saved….” </em> The bubbling waters surfaced with the bodies of Amanda and Constanze; even the bike was being hoisted up. <em> “Your spirit is too kind, too pure… to be a part of Us. We wish We were so naive….” </em> The Original had accepted that she could not stop these events from coming to pass now; The Child would have her way, and Chaos could only pray that her expected punishment never came. <em> “Find your name and get out. Get away from Us, from I.” </em> A bubble encased the trio of forms down in the water and began drifting off toward the southern beaches of the British mainland. <em> “I pray you are right about them. About all of them.” </em> Chaos began to slowly turn from the shoreline then and floated on to join her sisters. <em> “Even though I know you are wrong.” </em> And so The Child dove back down once again into uncertain waters and even more uncertain thoughts. </p><p> </p><p>It was a long way back toward the sight of the conflict, and Chaos wasn’t sure she had the stomach to even partake in any more of the violence. Her sadism faded for a time, but it would return assuredly, for it was all that distracted her from the crushing weight of all the truths she knew. Before such a thing could even be considered though, a great resounding boom began from the library of Luna Nova. A bright white shockwave emanated horizontally before echoing off of the walls of the dome back to its center. From there it shot out again, causing no damage to anything, but increasing in speed and now firing off at every which angle. Soon, it was moving so fast as to engulf the scene in a flash of white before revealing a sepia toned portion reality. </p><p> </p><p>Time had come to a standstill. All of the witches within were at the mercy of Amandas’ and Constanzes’ abilities. A heroic effort was needed to save the day, and they had all the time in the world to muster it. </p><p> </p><p>Chaos blinked in disbelief until her eyes settled on a distant Will. Cause and Effect retreated from their stoic sister as she began to progressively grow brighter and hotter. There’d be a reckoning for this.</p><p> </p>
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  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Interlude in WATER | Where There's Smoke</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>(Content warning throughout: Child Abuse/Trans Child Abuse reference. Reference to Self Harm and Suicide). </p><p>Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead,<br/>Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell<br/>And the profit and loss.<br/>A current under sea<br/>Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell<br/>He passed the stages of his age and youth<br/>Entering the whirlpool.<br/>Gentile or Jew<br/>O you who turn the wheel and look to windward,<br/>Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.</p><p>—T. S. Eliot, IV. Death By Water, from The Waste Land</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1nbiELc1K1YXbtX0gk2bWIywKRBlwN8hpuzUstLjw3WQ/edit?usp=sharing">PERSISTENCE WITHOUT A COST;</a>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1nbiELc1K1YXbtX0gk2bWIywKRBlwN8hpuzUstLjw3WQ/edit?usp=sharing">THE PRIVILEGE OF THE OBSERVER;</a>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1nbiELc1K1YXbtX0gk2bWIywKRBlwN8hpuzUstLjw3WQ/edit?usp=sharing">THINK ME NOT LIKE YOU; I WAS ONE OF THEM</a>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1nbiELc1K1YXbtX0gk2bWIywKRBlwN8hpuzUstLjw3WQ/edit?usp=sharing">THE REWARD FOR DEFIANCE: UNMAKING</a>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another long day was done; Lotte was beat. She collapsed onto her bed with a weary and exacerbated groan. It had been about a week since she got back and it took nearly a week to finally get a break. Starting tomorrow, she was, for all intents and purposes, without responsibilities she didn’t choose to take on herself. It felt like a miracle but also like a curse. She was free to and had been working the store since she got home, but most of her time was spent preparing the nearby villages, her own included, for any possible attack from monstrous beings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte and her mother both were exhausted by now, having just returned earlier that day from a particularly long trek to meet with the local Yeti Sculptor; they loved that fuzzy Fae, but they also wished his cabin wasn’t nearly five hours away. That and it seemed to jump around or move every other week, which made tracking him down all the more difficult. Nevertheless, he was thankful for the warnings and protective wards placed about his home, and returned the favor to Lotte who asked for a few particular ingredients and charms. She had need of one in particular for the seance she hoped to hold. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That Skull, with its two bejeweled eye sockets and yellowish tint to the bone, was left on her nightside desk, bathed in the moonlight, and stared Lotte down as it had always come to now. Lotte had grown used to the thing, and found its presence strangely comforting. Perhaps it was insensitive to whatever spirit inhabited the skull, but Lotte felt that this gift was well and truly hers; all of her other personal effects, save her old skull-lantern, her nightfall collection, and her journal, were just not the right fit for her. They were either tools for her study or gifts from her family that she only really kept around out of respect for them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Many of them were quite nice; she’d never deny that! They simply never resonated with Lotte. She would still admire them from time to time, but ultimately found many of them to be forgettable; her family tried very hard to understand what she wanted, and in terms of knowing who she was, they mostly got that right. When it came to her interests and hobbies though, they found themselves confused more often than not. Lotte and her parents got along well though, and they truly loved each other, and that was something Lotte could nor would ever complain about. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte looked up at her bejeweled antique with a tired smile, having rolled onto her stomach while laying longways across the horizontal of the bed. “I finally found what I needed.” She spoke to it knowing it could hear; she had used her spirit song twice already in attempts to commune with the being within, and she saw glimpses of magic spark and flash, but nothing substantial came out in terms of communication. “You think this will do the trick?” She fished up the hollow octagon shaped pendant The Yeti Sculptor had made her and dangled it before the skull; the pendant itself was made of a particularly reflective green metal or or, possibly jade, but The Yeti didn’t confirm or deny it, as he was a man of few words. The gems in its eye sockets flashed faintly; Lotte had been able to at least learn that one flash meant yes and two meant no. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte smiled a bit wider and readjusted her messed up glasses. “I had a feeling. You do still wanna talk right?” One flash came immediately. Lotte chuckled. “You’re eager, aren’t you?” Another immediate flash came. “Alright, well, we can try tonight after I do a bit of journaling. Do you mind waiting?” Lotte reached over with a grunt and took up a cloth from beside the skull. In the meantime, it flashed twice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte rolled over once more and hopped out of bed with a stretch. “Ok! Ahhh…” She yawned while rounding the foot of her bed and setting the pendant beside her skully companion. She spoke again while using the aforementioned cloth to wipe its eyes and scalp free of any dust. “You just sit tight while I go do that then…. Don’t go anywhere!” She joked with a cute little boop to the not-nose of the skull. Perhaps less bubbly witches would have exercised more caution when dealing with a possibly ancient skull infused with a good deal of magic, but Lotte was always one to exercise her gleeful nature even when in relative solitude. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From there, Lotte turned about on her heel and sighed in preparation. She hadn’t had a chance to journal since she got home. Lotte moved to her windowside desk just a few feet from her bed and sat down. Her crystal ball was set to the side near the edge of the desk while her journal and old fashioned fountain pen were laid out in the dead center. Lotte was always fond of the Victorian aesthetic, especially anything bohemian. The book itself was small, bound in black leather, and tasseled to mark the most recently filled page. Each piece of parchment also had a certain air of age to it, though it was in truth just a “fresh book smell” that Lotte maintained with magic; that kind of smell always calmed her, and it especially helped her focus when writing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now then,” Lotte flexed her fingers and picked up her fountain pen with her left hand while opening the journal almost ceremoniously with the right. “Let’s begin.” She poshly pushed up on her glasses, having always enjoyed a bit of acting for self enjoyment when alone. Then she began the arduous process of thinking up a place to start her entry. She began with the date of course but found her hand wavering on what to write next. “Hmmm….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her thoughts went back to the time alone she had in the ley line, of the thoughts and concerns that ran through her mind; she couldn’t just ignore them, especially after having received so many compliments from strangers while helping out at other towns. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You have such a lovely daughter! She’s nice looking! I wish my daughter was as considerate!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Daughter; that word uneased Lotte now, at least when it was being applied to her. She would endeavor to try and work through that strange feeling through writing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte pressed the pen to her paper and began in earnest: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I think this is something that’s made me feel a bit strange for a while now, but I don’t know when it really started.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She thought better of just diving right in; she would never just white out anything in a journal like this! That would ruin the appearance! </span>
  <em>
    <span>“The thing with gender,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lotte tarried on that word; was it the right one? Too late now. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s confusing me. It kind of always has.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She had pages upon pages written about her confusions as proof. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t think it’s just a problem where I don’t know why certain people are expected to act in certain ways, but why we’re even given that label to begin with.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I didn’t really have a direct choice in it either. I guess I didn’t say ‘no’ when I was a little gir</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Again, it was too late to erase the beginnings of the phrase “little girl,” so Lotte, for sake of her own vanity when it came to preserving her notebook, continued. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Girl, but I didn’t ask for it either. I don’t even know if it makes sense to ask a kid what gender they wanna be. Would I have been able to even answer that? I feel like I would have just said ‘I’m a girl!’ anyway.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lotte still wasn’t sure if she would even call herself something besides a woman, but that feeling of being something else, of wanting to identify otherwise, was certainly present. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What happens when you're not a girl and not a boy though?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lotte thought of that particular phrasing after she wrote it. She giggled at the seeming absurdity. “What happens?” Lotte thought aloud. “What, do you explode or something? Turn green and start growing feathers?” She continued her writing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, what happens must just be you exist as,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lotte lacked the vocabulary and knowledge to come up with the word ‘non-binary,’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>“a not gendered person. Or maybe there’s other genders? I think I heard my classmates talking and one of them mentioned something about three or more genders, but I don’t know the context.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>but she meant it nonetheless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What does it mean to be that anyway? Do you have to do anything for it?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Witches were all about rituals, and Lotte wasn’t very much different. She knew there was power in tradition and cultural celebrations that take the form of ritual; the passing of the torch, crossing the threshold, the marking of the flesh, all were forms of passage into phases and roles within life across the world. There wasn’t any of that for gender though, none that Lotte knew of at least that didn’t already presume the gender of the participant. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I know some covens who take on younger witches have ceremonies where they tattoo specific symbols for boys becoming men and girls becoming women.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte hummed with a tap of the pen against her chin, accidently blotting a bit of ink on her skin. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“So what would be the way to show a girl becoming a non-gendered person? Can a girl do that? I know a few girls from the academy who said they used to or thought they were boys and became women, but this is different, right?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She didn’t have much of an answer to the question and simply underlined it. She left a note beside that as well, stating: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Figure this out!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>That, along with the vexing question of what Lotte was in terms of a person outside of gender was haunting her more than usual. At least now that she had been let free of academic responsibilities, she found herself with an abundance of time to figure all of that out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“All of that came from me just being alone when I was flying home in the leyline portal. All because I didn’t know what I was.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lotte sighed and dropped her pen for now while holding her face up with a hand against her cheek. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What I am.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She corrected lazily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte still didn’t have a satisfying answer to that question. She’d exhausted all of the options that made sense, and so after a minute or two of being a tad sullen, Lotte wrote them down in a bulleted list titled </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What I am:”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m a witch. I’m a nerd who loves Nightfall. I’m Finnish. I’m kind. I’m cute, according to Frankie.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Frank Ackerman, close friend to Andrew Hanbridge, did indeed get that date with Lotte eventually. Lotte hadn’t thought much of it in a while, for while they hit it off very well and held steady for a year or so, she found they were both just at different stages of life; Frank was eighteen and about to begin a college life while Lotte was seventeen and committed to the path of witch-schooling. Naturally, they tried to stay in contact, but neither were very interested in a long distance relationship. Lotte made another note to herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Should try and catch up with him sometime! He must have graduated by now.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Back to the taxing yet terribly short list of things that Lotte identified with, she was only able to muster one last genuine response amidst the cacophony of bad-faith designations the self-deprecating part of her brain was making. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m a person who wants to figure themself out.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Themself? They? She? It was difficult for Lotte to choose how to address themself, or herself, anymore. She would leave it at the presumed ‘she’ for now, if only because she lacked insight into the implications, if there were any, of using they and them to self identify. Like most good things, it demanded further study to truly appreciate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte sighed. “Guess I’ll leave that topic for later.” She still had a bit to write on less individually focused topics. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I haven’t heard back from anyone at school yet. I really hope they’re ok; I’ve been worried sick ever since I left.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lotte rolled her shoulder as she got back in the swing of her journalling. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s not like them not to answer my calls, not like I’ve had much time to make them, and I’m sure they’re plenty busy as is.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lotte fought off any bad faith notions that her friends didn’t care for her; she knew very well that they would fight and die for her, not that she’d ever want them to! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll try again tomorrow. I’m sure they’ll be happy to hear from me! I know I’ll be happy to hear from them!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lotte doodled a little smiley face next to that particular statement before leaving herself a note. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Ask Hannah and Barbara how they’re plans for a magic shop of their own is going! Dad was really wanted to know what they planned to sell so we could see if we had any spare stock to give them so they could get off the ground!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lotte was, admittedly, a little jealous that others among her friend group had taken to starting a magical shop, as it was the one thing Lotte had going for her that she felt differentiated her from them in any truly unique way. Still, she wasn’t a bitter person, nor did she harbor any ill will against them; she just wanted them to be happy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte went on to write for a few minutes more, detailing mostly small things and noteworthy events that went down during her week-long travelling across the Finnish countryside with her mother. Afterward, she set her pen down, closed her book as carefully as she had opened it, and stretched her arms up high. “Ahhhh….” She yawned in longing for bed, but had one final task to take care of. “Alright Mr. Skull,” She said with a tired enthusiasm, “Let’s see if we can have a nice chat.” and rose from her chair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The skull was of course staring at her again, having shifted its angle while Lotte wasn’t looking. The eyes flashed four times in quick succession. “I’m excited too.” She could only assume that’s what it meant when she picked it up from her nightstand and brought it to her writing desk. She set it in the spot where her journal usually sat after having moved the book down into a drawer alongside the pen. Lotte then gingerly donned the jade like octagonal pendant before taking her wand up from her pajama bottoms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A slow and steady inhale followed by an equally measured exhale marked the beginning of the ritual. She began to slowly hum the tune to her spirit song as she lowered her wand down to the wooden tabletop. As if it were a carving utensil or a pencil, she used it to draw temporary marks on the surface; runes of communion with all things spiritual. Twelve markings in total formed a dodecagon around the skull and lit up as her humming became soft singing. Lines formed between each of the runes and one line from each individual rune met in the center of the formation; they glowed with a gentle white and green color reminiscent of the ley line portal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte’s volume rose as the song continued and she closed her eyes, channelling more power from the now shimmering and floating pendant around her neck. The power coalesced in the center of the hollow octagon and formed a small laser like beam that drew a fading symbol on the forehead of the jeweled skull. The otherwise dull gems burned with a new light in response, and the skull itself began to levitate a few inches above the circle of communion. Lotte continued her song until it’s natural conclusion then, and only when it finished, did the pendant fall gently against her chest. All light subsequently escaped from the room save for that of the magicked symbols and the burning lights of the skulls gemstone eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Silence took hold as Lotte caught her breath. It felt more rigorous to call on her spirit singing powers in this case, and she could feel a greater presence than expected within the skull as it floated patiently before her. After wiping a single bead of sweat away, Lotte spoke cautiously. “H-Hello? Can you hear me? Understand me?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No response came immediately, and so she tried to repeat it, but was cut short by the sudden shunting of books, pens, pencils, and even a brush that Lotte had forgotten she had, from their usual places. Lotte leaned back in her chair with wide eyes as she saw all of the aforementioned things form a small tornado like flux around the skull. No true wind was guiding them of course, but the spirit of the skull itself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The papers of various books fluttered, and some appeared to have been “read” cover to cover by the skull-spirit within mere seconds. Those books with content were then shuffled back to their original positions, while one book remained; Lotte’s journal. Three empty pages were torn from it vigorously with a loud page ripping sound. “H-Hey! That’s my journal! Mr. Skull!” Lotte tried to focus her mind to exert some level of control over the seance but found nothing to work; this wasn’t like any spirit she’d dealt with before, and why would it be? This was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> human skull, and thus it must have held an </span>
  <em>
    <span>actual</span>
  </em>
  <span> human soul. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte tried to snatch the book out of the air, and to her surprise, she met no resistance. Instead, when she looked back up at the swirl of writing utensils and paper, she saw the skull painting and drawing with insane detail and speed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Return…. Must return…. Return me.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A wispy voice sounded in Lotte’s mind, as if coming from all directions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte replied outwardly as she held her journal tight to her chest. “R-Return you? I d-don’t even know who you are!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Return... to…  Fulvula. Return to The Great Marsh. Return….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The spirit of the skull clearly struggled to make its thoughts known, noted by the straining in its wispy voice that faded like wind. The efforts of its drawing and painting were then made clear as it displayed one of the three pages to Lotte. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Return to Fulvula….” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte leaned in close, adjusting her eyes to the new levels of light alongside her glasses. She could clearly make out a beautifully detailed setting of what was surely a swamp; the marsh it was speaking of. What Lotte didn’t realize until a few moments later though was that the picture was in motion! A bulbous frog-like creature hopped into frame with great big mushrooms growing on its back. It silently croaked and ribbetted before hopping daintily across the frame. Meanwhile, clouds between the canopy began to part, revealing a distant tower that rose above all else in the wetland. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It sported a cone shaped roof to match its cylinder body alongside bridges that extended out to small, seemingly floating rooms just a short walk away from the main spire structure. Those smaller rooms were boxy and had traditional pyramid shaped roofs to match; Lotte could have sworn she saw a great bird, perhaps a vulture or eagle, fly from one of their windows while carrying something in its claws, though she couldn’t tell what. “You… you need to go there? Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The spirit replied urgently. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Fulvula. The Great Marsh. Spire. Tower. Morgue. Serene and…. Serene… peaceful home.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The second page was brought to bear before Lotte, overlapping the first. It displayed a clearer, more up close depiction of the aforementioned tower. It stood alone atop a great mound in the middle of the swamp, with a mostly ruined cobblestone pathway leading up to it. The main spire structure had only one entrance, for all of its rectangularly shaped windows were barred with rusty, but floralistically stylized, iron bars that had become entangled in all manner of vines and encroaching plantlife. The one door, positioned at the end of that cobble path, was simple, formed mostly of wood that surprisingly was not rotten given the state of everything else around the tower, and otherwise had dark iron bolts and trusses. Finally, two sliding slots marked the eye and waist level of an average sized human; though no handle or knob marked the outside, and Lotte could only assume it was locked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why do you need to go there though? Where is… Fulvula?” It wasn’t any region she’d ever heard of, and didn’t sound like it was a name from any human language; was this a Fae name, or perhaps one given by a long dead coven or culture? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Art… is… as incomplete as… the artist who creates it.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>This would be all that the spirit could muster in terms of an explanation until it began to repeat itself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Return to Fulvula, The Great Marsh.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>It deviated from those repetitions though to mark a likely important detail. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Matriarchs of The Morgue. Seek the Matriarchs. Incomplete… as….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The spirit’s thoughts bled into one another and the skull began to shake and vibrate uneasily. Lotte’s pendant shook in unison, causing her to drop her journal to the side out of surprise. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-What’s happening? How do I get to the marsh? How do I take you there?” Lotte’s eyes flitted between the skull and pendant, fearing that one or the other might shatter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The gate. Seek the gate! Pass through the gate! The Middle Kingdoms! The gate between…. Between….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The final page was weakly levitated over to Lotte; the spirit’s power was fading fast! It was an unfinished drawing of a great stone door with a circular artistic rendition in the middle. Four figures, a goat like entity, a faerie with butterfly wings, a mysteriously shaped bog-thing, and a… robot, yes, a robot, were all reaching toward some vague shape in the center. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Pass… between….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The skull then clattered unceremoniously to the table as the writing tools and paper all clattered to the floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“M-Mr. Skull!” Lotte scooted forward and leaned in close as she picked up the now dormant skull. “Mr. Skull are you ok!?” She was genuinely afraid that the ritual had somehow hurt the spirit within. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her fears were allayed, but replaced by a chill that ran up her spine. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Malitrix….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The voice of the spirit whispered as if on its deathbed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Malitrix…. Your name is Malitrix?” Lotte shivered from the sudden coldness in her room but maintained a focused tone. The skull was dormant for a solid thirty seconds until it flashed its eyes once in confirmation. “Ok…. Are you hurt?” Two flashes. Lotte sighed and fell back into her chair in relief. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Phew.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She looked back up at her spirited companion with an especially tired but curious expression. “Why did….” She halted herself, and thought of how to phrase her questions into ones that could be answered with a simple yes or no. “Was the pendant not enough?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Malitrix appeared to think. Lotte wasn’t really sure how she could tell that they were thinking, but ran with the assumption anyway. Eventually, she was answered with two blinks. Lotte then looked down at her pendant after she set Malitrix down where they were seated prior, though the circle of communion had faded. Her hands brushed against it and felt an otherworldly form of dullness. “It's… drained?” Where it once glowed with arcane energies, it now was but a strangely shaped neck-adornment. “So it wasn’t enough?” One blink answered yes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte hummed disappointedly as she removed it and set it by her crystal ball. “Is there some other kind of ingredient I need then? I don’t really know what goes into seances like this except for having a focus. But not even that worked.” She scratched at her head slowly and hummed again. “Here, just blink once if any of these would work: Dragon scales, famorian blood, wizards tail; the plant not an actual wizard's tail! Uh… um…. Dunecap shrooms? Glacial tears? Anything?” No response came. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte sighed again, this time more annoyedly. She’d finally found her own adventure, her own quest to go embark on, and she was already hitting dead ends; or so she thought. Her eyes dipped to the floor and she quickly gathered up the papers Malitrix had enchanted and drawn on. “W-What if I find these places? Will you be strong enough to talk to me there?” One flash, then three more, then ten! Malitrix was like a game show-piece in how quickly it was lighting up. Lotte nodded firmly and gripped the magical pages tight. “Then that’s what I’ll do!” Why was Lotte so eager to go where an unknown mystical skull inhabited by a dubiously named being? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The answer was obvious to her: Diana was a Cavendish, Akko saved the world, Sucy was an Antiquarian, Hannah and Barbara were opening their own shop, Jasminka was going to apprentice under one of the world’s greatest chefs, Amanda was a travelling mage, and even Constanze, for all her woes regarding what to do with her life, had talents beyond belief. That left Lotte with a song and a dream to be something more; a dream to find herself. This quest, no matter how shady it seemed, would see those dreams realized! Finally, for weal or woe, Lotte could feel like she was pursuing something greater, even if she loved all those she came to support along their own journeys. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have my word Malitrix! I’m gonna find… wherever that is, and return you… to your body?” Malitrix was a skull after all, and what was a skull without the rest of the skeleton? Malitrix blinked once in confirmation, earning a smile from Lotte. “Alright, but it may take some time! I’m not exactly the most knowledgeable on this kinda stuff.” She chuckled nervously as Malitrix blinked once again, which Lotte took to mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s alright.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Then, after having put everything back in order, Lotte made a few more notes about what Malitrix had said in her journal. “Fulvula. The Great Marsh…. Matriarchs of the Morgue…. Pass through the gates and something about The Middle Kingdoms, right?” Lotte had heard that term before in her Fae-cultural studies class, but it was mostly in passing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With finality, Malitrix blinked to confirm Lotte’s recitation of the important details. Lotte taped the enchanted pages then beside her notes and stowed the journal away. “Tomorrow I’ll make a post.” She began to speak while looking at her crystal ball. “I don’t know how old you are, but we have this thing called witch-net now. It lets witches communicate almost instantly from all over the world! I’ll go on and make a post in a forum I help run; maybe some witches there can help me figure out where this stuff is.” Lotte smiled cheerily as Malitrix blinked ten times in quick succession; Lotte decided that was Malitrix’s way of showing joy. “I’m glad you like the sound of that! The witches on there are super helpful…. A bit weird! But super helpful!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte remembered fondly the time the most recent Annebelle made an ARG for her next installation of Nightfall, only for the vexfulhexful forums to solve what was supposed to be a three month long game in two weeks. Lotte had quite the hand in solving that same slew of puzzles, but that of course was Nightfall, the one thing she felt like an absolute expert on. Finding mystical places likely related to Fae beings though? That was something she was near clueless on. And sure enough, the vexfulhexful forums had been home to all sorts of super-sleuths and otherwise ingenious mystery solvers, so this would be a piece of cake!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Right?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lotte thought to herself. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1f7uZMMfZhmszNfKd8ypQXakLdR_8pSYzMp6S8HtV0eo/edit?usp=sharing">
    <strong>DESPITE ALL I HAVE SAID, YOU CONTINUE</strong>
  </a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1f7uZMMfZhmszNfKd8ypQXakLdR_8pSYzMp6S8HtV0eo/edit?usp=sharing">
    <strong>BRAVE, FUTILE, HOPELESS; I SENSE KINSHIP</strong>
  </a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1f7uZMMfZhmszNfKd8ypQXakLdR_8pSYzMp6S8HtV0eo/edit?usp=sharing">
    <strong>THEN JOIN WITH ME; COME</strong>
  </a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1f7uZMMfZhmszNfKd8ypQXakLdR_8pSYzMp6S8HtV0eo/edit?usp=sharing">
    <strong>MISERY IS ALWAYS WANT FOR COMPANY</strong>
  </a>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>A rickety and partly rusted truck, small in size, dull green, and likely meant for farm work out in the countryside, came to a slow crawling halt beneath a streetlight. It stopped before a chain of buildings separated only by inches, though this was no city like London or Beijing. Newcastle on the River Tyne was a university town, and the driver of the truck had spent much of his youth around that place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The driver was an Old Man with Hard Eyes; his eye sockets weren’t very deep, and he seldom blinked, so he always came off as a tad intense. He wore simple clothes one might expect from an outdoorsman, and his normally scraggly beard was more properly kept since he began his trek southward across the isle. His hair, both facial and atop his head, was predominantly a dark brown, with hints of grey and white, creating a sort of salt and pepper blend. His whole face and expression too were as hard as his gazes, as he was quite gaunt in cheek and in gut, though his lightly tanned skin spoke to his time spent toiling outdoors; even if Scotland was a drearily weathered place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From his barely used and woefully maintained vehicle, he stepped to the sidewalk. He stood at about five foot five, and had a tendency to shrink his posture further, especially when out and about like this. His hands were immediately shoved into his coat pockets as he surveyed the space about him. “Aye.” He said aloud to himself in his relative solitude. “This be the place.” Night had fallen, and so, save for the street lamps, his way was illuminated by simple neon signs that guided his path down into a literal underground tavern. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The Royal Red Sun” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The wooden sign hanging above the door said above a depiction of a jolly looking red orb with typical rays and triangles of orange and yellow about it, and a cheeky crown atop its head. In the descending stairwell, flanked by flat cement walls, The Man with Hard Eyes stopped to soak in the familiar sight. “Just as I remember it.” He had a Scottish accent, though his voice was a bit soft for a man that seemed so intense just by his appearance. “Good ol’ Royal Red.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He mustered a brief smile on his wrinkled face in the wake of many memories that came flooding back to him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“So many hours of misspent coin and youth. Ahh, but what a lovely time we all had.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He thought to himself. His collegiate years were long behind him, more so than most men who appeared to be his age, though magic had a way of prolonging the lives of those who became steeped in it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And what a mess you made of the place; you and those bully bastards came in her hollering and howling like ye never knew what it meant to be hungover.” An equally aged woman said accusatorily with a scowl and crossed arms. In his bout of nostalgia, The Man of Hard Eyes hadn’t even realized that someone had come outside, let alone that his old friend had probed his thoughts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> She was an elderly woman of dull white skin tone, and was neither taller nor shorter than The Hard Eyed Man when she stood up straight, but her spine had fallen out of place, and so she was hunched over with a cane ever present by her side. A tan shawl about her near bald head along with a bundle of old wool coats had her looking like a fishmonger from some olde English village. The only indication of her witching ways would only be spotted by keen eyes; her cane had three Lunar Runes in the dead center of the shaft, and a few silver chains jingled from her waist; pendants and focuses lay hidden beneath her robes and coats. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He jumped a bit in surprise and settled his gaze on the woman. It had been so long since he got a right talking to from her that he’d almost forgotten who had served him all those drinks. “Astrid? Astrid Cooke?” He queried as his mouth got wider in surprise and joy; it was seldom that he felt happy these days. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Astrid returned the smile, “Glad you still remember me, Maxwell.” but chased it away with another faux frown and a jab to the chest. “Wish you’d remember to pay the bloody tab! Been decades you know! Decades of not hearin’ from yah!” Her accent was more traditionally English, but it showed signs of age even beyond Maxwell’s. The two then shared a bit of hoarse laughter as they quickly embraced. “It’s good to see ya ‘round here again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wish I had better reasons to be back.” Maxwell pulled away from the friendly embrace with a shake of the head. “We should take it inside. Don’t need to get caught up in any local gossip.” He urged with a little gesture of the hand toward the pub-door. “Assuming you still own the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Red Sun.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He phrased the namesake of the pub as if to reference another object or place entirely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not legally.” Astrid shuffled to turn around and made for the door. “Grandkids have it in name, run the taps, the usual. But they know to leave me to my work down in the cellar.” Her naturally shaking hands, riddled partly by arthritis, struggled to grasp the knob on the door, but eventually got it turned and open. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell followed her inside, and the two kept quiet as they passed by the usual fair a pub in England might have; drunkards, easy going drinkers, and especially in this town, college students having a round or two to ease off of the stress classwork brought. They came around a corner past the room with the tables and the hallway with the bathrooms to find a door labeled aptly with an “Employees only” sign. An otherwise inconspicuous symbol of a sun was engraved into the wood and painted in red and gold, but Maxwell and Astrid knew well its true purpose. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Astrid reached out a finger and drew faint yellow lines of magic, making shapes that branched from the blazing sun symbol, creating a more intricate Lunar Rune from the basework. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Arstoriva.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The incant caused the drawn symbol to briefly glow before it faded back to normal. Nothing seemed to change at first, but Maxwell and Astrid were waiting expectantly regardless. Then came the sound of four knocks:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Knock knock…. Knock…. Knock! </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Astrid nodded approvingly to herself as she reached for the door handle and pressed forward toward the rooms that lay beyond. “It's… not as you remember it, I’m sure.” Astrid began when speaking to Maxwell before the sight of what could best be described as a red-lit and antiquely furnished hotel foyer, complete with a cryptically complex receptionist’s desk; it had more drawers, secret and plainly visible, than the bar outside had glasses. “But not much has changed either.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The one who would normally be sitting at said desk was beside the door, having been the one who gave the knocking signal. They were a cat-eyed woman in an outfit befitting a butler; her outfit was bewitched to shrink in line with her own shape-shifting form. Her human skin was olive, and her pure black hair was tied back in a singular bun. She was stately in posture, with both hands behind her back and head gently upturned, even as her eyes wandered onto Maxwell. “All is well, I presume?” The Felinine Receptionist asked Astrid.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh yes, just meeting with an old friend.” Astrid shuffled inside and made to sit down on one of the three victorian esque couches with a low sigh. “Assuming his business isn’t as bad as he’s making it out to be. He didn’t even think to talk up above with the others, so it must be important, or at least unpleasant.” Maxwell followed in line with her speaking and shut the door behind him, allowing the magicked red light of the floating lamps to be his only guide now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Felinid Receptionist bowed her head gently before she eased her posture and leisurely waltzed over to her station. She then sat down and held her weary head up with a hand against her cheek, leaving Maxwell to take his own seat across from Astrid. “Not unpleasant necessarily, but not something to be talked about with non-witches about.” The Felinine Receptionist cleared her throat. “Ah, or Fae of course.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, spill it, I’m a busy woman tending to this place you know. Especially nowadays!” She gestured outward with her arms as if to reference the whole of the space, including the seemingly infinite hallways that lay beyond the cryptic desk. “No matter how many brooms and mops I enchant, the place still gets dirty somehow; and our guests are very mindful of their messes.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“About those guests,” Maxwell steepled his hands together and leaned forward with a creak from his back. “I’ve come here to speak to some of them. None in particular, but if </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Red Sun</span>
  </em>
  <span> is as unchanged as you say, there’ll be plenty of our kind and all sorts of magical beings taking refuge here.” He raised a brow in questioning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Astrid leaned back with thoughtfully pursed lips. She idly tapped her cane against the fine wooden floor as she spoke. “If ye can talk to them about it, you can talk to me first.” She leveled an open palm Maxwell’s way. “Not fair to our guests to bother ‘em when they came here to escape all the troubles up above…. Even if most plan to move on to better prospects eventually.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s… about the order, but, more so about offering my aid; what aid I can give at least.” Maxwell sighed and wiped his forehead. “The flame’s almost gone out; you probably guessed that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Astrid grumbled and shook her head. “Damnable shame…. Though I don’t know why you don’t just feed it any old wood. Magical or not, fire’s fire.” She had always kept away from matters of the Balefire; their traditions were vague and nebulous to her. Her place was with </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Red Sun</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and she never intended on leaving, even when her time had come to pass away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Were it so easy, Astrid. Sure, the fire itself would live on, but the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fire</span>
  </em>
  <span>…. That… that burning passion can only be fed by kindred flames; valor has always been its kindling.” He paused to allow Astrid a moment to study his words, as he was well aware that of the obtuseness to his explanation. “I know most of these folk are just passing through, running from some terror or tragedy, or without a home that accepts them anymore; the order could be that home for them, if they wanted it to be.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Astrid shook her head again, this time with more vigor. “If you’re precious fire’s goin’ out, then why’re you trying to drag them down with you?” Astrid was a friend above all things, but she was as critical as she was kind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell turned his head to the side and the floor, and for a few minutes, the only sounds that permeated the dim room were the occasional idle purrs from The Felinine Receptionist. Maxwell eventually found the heart to speak his mind. “I don’t intend for it to die out. I’ve squatted around, minded that dust and stone, kept quiet for too damn long. You’ve been getting more guests than ever, and you probably know why, don’tcha?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well of course! Take one good look at the news and it's sad enough to make a banshee look chipper! Especially that wicked coalition bein’ formed out in the Balkans and East Europe.” Astrid wagged her free hand at the air in frustration. “They’ll see magical folk run out of all the lands and into the sea if they get their way; hell, most of my most recent guests are from those places!” As if on cue, The Felinine Receptionist lazily twirled her hand with a magical spark about it and lifted up a book listing each and every guest of </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Red Sun</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and floated it over to hang in the air in front of Astrid. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elderly woman took out her small reading glasses and counted the pages while Maxwell spoke. “I-I’m sure you’re as packed as could be, but it’s just like you said! </span>
  <em>
    <span>If they get their way</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That’s an </span>
  <em>
    <span>if</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Astrid, not a </span>
  <em>
    <span>when.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Forty six!” Astrid clammored. “Forty six new souls in one week, forty eight if you count the Turkish gentleman’s cerberus as three!” The book then flew on back to the reception desk and into one of countlessly unique drawers. Maxwell cleared his throat loudly to bring Astrid’s attention to his prior statement. “Hmmph! Rude and impatient as ever, you torch-headed loons.” Such was the pet name Astrid gave to Balefire members; especially the ones who really played up the fire motif. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell could only roll his eyes. If he had more youthful energy in him, he might have had the patience to strike back with a quip of his own, but there was no joy to be had in this matter. He’d grown to be grim with the times that surrounded him. “My point, Astrid, is that these dark times could be turned bright, if—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh and there you go again with that saying of yours: </span>
  <em>
    <span>The only thing required for man to defeat evil is for him to stand up and fight</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Astrid stood up agitatedly, pacing back and forth in a manner only a lady as ancient as she could. “Couldn’t you have let that saying of yours die when we stood up to fight for centuries only to get left behind?” She spoke of the witch hunts, crowns destroyed, and magic forgotten; the decline of Yggdrasil. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We achieved great things by those words! Its sentiments hold true to this day and you know it!” Maxwell threw up his arms exhaustedly. “Now focus Astrid! You know I wouldn’t be coming to you about this if I wasn’t serious; I’m not here to argue slogans.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re serious alright.” Astrid pointedly sneered at him and rustled her cane in his direction. “Seriously out of your depth that is! The world’s changed too much too fast. It’s bigger than the order ever was, than anything ever was. Even The Nine, bless their souls, couldn’t have known that society would get so bloody lecherous and apathetic. So what do you hope to do against that?” She stepped closer inquisitorially. “Rope a few good witches and Fae folk who have a bone to pick with modernity, round em up by that cabin and tomb of yours, and then what?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell rose from his seat and confronted Astrid with his signaturely hard glare and leaned in with a slight intensity. “That ‘tomb’ and cabin could be more; we could see the order hall restored. It’d be a humble new beginning, but at least it’s something.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But </span>
  <em>
    <span>what then,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Maxwell! What then!?” Astrid’s voice turned almost mournful as she looked to Maxwell, praying that he might assuage her doubts with the perfect plan. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell turned to one side and held his forehead gently in his right hand as he examined the other; his mark, the sigil of the Balefire upon the back of his right hand, he contemplated it. “We show the people of the world that their lives can change, that revolution is possible. But that will only come with time.” He allowed his arms to drop to his sides. “Time that need be spent rebuilding our coalitions. If the magicless and witch-fearing people of the world can see that we are but one united humanity, fractured by lies and greed, and that we can fight to protect each other; fight for our collective right to live as all things must… then we could help push the grinding gears of history back into motion.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Astrid considered her old friend for a short time before she eventually turned to walk back to her former seat and slowly reclined into its cushions. She breathed slowly out through her nose, and left her gaze, fraught with conflicting thoughts and emotions, on Maxwell's own determinedly hard expression. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Felinine Receptionist rose to her feet then and adopted that stately posture she took on whenever handling official matters of the would-be hotel. “Shall I see him removed, Astrid?” She asked while making her way to the woman in question. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell raised his brows upon hearing it; he wouldn’t believe that they could be so fractured over such a matter that he would be thrown out of a place that once was his home. Luckily, Astrid was of the same mind, and would not think of it. “No, no. That won’t be necessary.” She advised with a gentle nod. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Felinine Receptionist relaxed her shoulders then after a bow before speaking in a less stiff voice. “Then I’m breaking for a smoke, if you don’t mind.” She produced a self-rolled smokeable from her vest pocket and snapped a floating candle over to light it. When Astrid gestured in approval, The Felinine Receptionist took her leave through the sun-marked door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the gentle click of tumblers broke the otherwise quiet atmosphere in the room, Astrid spoke again. “You’re a good man, Maxwell, but a dreamer to a fault.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s happened before, hasn’t it?” Maxwell sat down in his own chair then, allowing his tense emotions to deflate that he might converse more cordially with his friend. “We broke away from countless kings and tyrants before, even if we’ve only replaced their crowns with states. We can break away from those too, and you know it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Age has a way of… oh what would you torch-heads say? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dampening your flames?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Astrid looked down to her lap. “I keep to myself and my guests, Maxwell. Life is simple that way, even if none of them could know such simplicity….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell let his head drop; his search would be for naught here, and his searches for witches elsewhere had proven ill indeed. “I see….” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And perhaps I’ve been much too selfish because of that.” Astrid concluded with a grumble and rap of her cane against the floor. “Who am I to squirrel myself away and act like I ain’t part’a the problem. It’s one thing to give a lad or lass the comforts of a house for a time while they figure themselves out; it’s another to go after what made ‘em homeless and wayward to begin with.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell looked up with a thoughtfully scrunched face. “You do what you can, Astrid, and that’s more than most do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not about amount, Maxwell, it’s about approach.” Astrid rapped her cane more vigorously this time as she returned the thoughtful stare. “And while I ain’t about to let you go and get the good folk lodged here all riled up like anything’s going to change fast…. I won’t stop you from trying to give ‘em hope. It’s the one thing </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Red Sun</span>
  </em>
  <span> can’t offer… er, ignoring the shoddy plumbing, but, well, can’t have it all, can you?” She smiled at her own bit of humor, and Maxwell smiled in turn. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m good to ask around then? I won’t be a bother, and I’ll leave at the first sign that they’ve no interest in my business.” He reassured before standing. “Ain’t here to cause problems.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know you’re not, but to save myself the headache of getting complaints about a wrinkly old solicitor banging on their doors at…” Astrid looked at her wrist watch with a squint. “Nearly midnight! Nine above and Nine below, you couldn’t have come earlier!?” She rose and waggled her cane in Maxwell’s direction with playful anger to Maxwell’s laughter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been on the road for a week now, Astrid.” He threw his hands out to the side and let them fall. “I’ve tried every other gathering and town of olde I knew…. It's not good out there.” He shook his head regretfully; he wished he could have found the heart to take this action sooner, but as Astrid had said, his flame had been dampened with age. “If I wasn’t starved for options, I’d’ve only come by for a visit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahh, well, I can only imagine. Strange how it is,” Astrid began while making her way to the receptionist desk and continued while searching for that small book of visitors. “Magic returns and suddenly witches are </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> reclusive. Guess the world wasn’t ready for things to turn back to normal.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Different normals for the mundane folk; nothing about us is normal to them.” Maxwell followed up behind Astrid calmly. “Can’t blame ‘em. The old kings and queens feared magic; they knew we’d rally the people against them, and so they made us enemies, heathens to be hunted.” He held out his hands when Astrid presented him with a notated version of the visitor log. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And what about them? They’re long dead, and we survived their hunts, mostly.” Astrid turned her head up quizzically. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think the new powers found a better way to get rid of us: We’re not they’re enemies in truth; they swept us away, discredited us with ‘science,’ made you look like a fool to seek the olde wisdom…. It wasn’t perfect, people still knew we were out there, but with magic’s decline, they knew more than anything that we were just that; fading.” Maxwell opened the book idly as he continued to converse. “What’s that saying about the devil and his tricks?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The greatest trick the devil ever pulled—” Astrid began.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is convincing the world that his enemies didn’t exist.” Maxwell finished.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Astrid chortled. “Don’t think that’s how it went, but sure, if that’s the version you wantta’ use.” She raised a boney finger to tap the pages of the guestbook, marking twenty or so individuals with magic ink. “Just visit the one’s I’ve marked. The others are… well, they either won’t be of use to your cause, or they’re transient as is.” Astrid patted the top of the book in Maxwell’s hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell flipped casually through the list. “No one’s not of use to the cause, but I’ll heed your warning.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Maxwell.” Astrid nodded cordially and smiled more widely. “And you’re free to stay overnight, of course. Maybe you could stop by the old-coven-house down by Flute Street; for the memories.” She spoke of the first coven Maxwell had ever joined as a youth, </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Newcastle Archivers</span>
  </em>
  <span>, which un-officially worked with the college to help categorize and preserve ‘anomalous’ and magical texts. Whether they were around anymore was a mystery to them both given how quiet they’d been in the past decade. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I will, but I’ve got a long road ahead of me yet.” Maxwell adjusted his coat and collar to appear more presentable to strangers. “If I don’t find you later tonight, then I’ll see you in the morning. Wouldn’t be right to leave with your guests without proper goodbyes of course.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Glad you learned </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> manners since I last spoke with ye.” Astrid reached out and ruffled her friend’s hair with a typical ‘old lady laugh.’ Maxwell could only groan. “I appreciate it, truly…. Now go on before it gets any later…. And please for Nine’s sake do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> wake that Turkishs gent’s cerberus up or I swear by Vaals’ anvils I will beat you senseless!” Her hair ruffling turned into shoulder shaking which had Maxwell gently pushing himself away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes! Good gods woman; have a bit of faith!” He smiled wearily as he wiped his face with a sigh. “I’m off now, so get some rest of your own. See you at sunrise.” He turned to the side and gave a gentle wave as he went down those impossible corridors of mahogany doors and crimson rugs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Astrid returned the wave and giggled to herself as she went back through the sun-marked door and made her way up toward her bedroom proper. “Those firebrands never do burn out properly…. No wonder their flame kept on for this long.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1q8C8-kuF_3GwBA-jyi7_FN2n1_EUem8jxWF5gUM64qM/edit?usp=sharing">
    <strong>I PITY THIS ONE; LOVED HER EVEN</strong>
  </a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1q8C8-kuF_3GwBA-jyi7_FN2n1_EUem8jxWF5gUM64qM/edit?usp=sharing">
    <strong>NO MORE; HERS ENDS IN BLOOD, ALWAYS</strong>
  </a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1q8C8-kuF_3GwBA-jyi7_FN2n1_EUem8jxWF5gUM64qM/edit?usp=sharing">
    <strong>HER QUEST; DEATH. HER ENEMIES; ALL</strong>
  </a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1q8C8-kuF_3GwBA-jyi7_FN2n1_EUem8jxWF5gUM64qM/edit?usp=sharing">
    <strong>SHE WHO LET THE CURTAINS FALL</strong>
  </a>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Morning came only by the sound of chimes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Red Sun</span>
  </em>
  <span> stirred with activity as hundreds of clocks whirred and buzzed to life. Maxwell, having taken to rest in one of the empty rooms, grumbled back to life after a night's worth of speaking and, occasionally, arguing. He’d been about as lucky as a starry eyed Vegas youth looking to win out against a one-armed-bandit. Witches, young, old, wise, naive, artisans arcane, and dispossessed covenners and mages all were residents, and usually only temporary, of </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Red Sun</span>
  </em>
  <span>; only ten of the fifty he’d visited showed any interest, but none of them were ready or eager to abandon their current prospects in lieu of the orders’ destitute remnants. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Perhaps Astrid was right to have called Maxwell’s charge a tomb, he thought. It's only other visitor had been a man who was debatably dead for nearly two millennia, and he could never stray far from it lest his mind be lost to the hunger. Still, even if it was a tomb, it had potential, and could be rebuilt with enough skilled witches at the ready to aid in the efforts. Some of those convinced showed interest in offering aid, but they all needed time to prepare and inform their loved ones; an understandable concession, or perhaps a polite way of sending Maxwell on his way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I suppose it wasn’t completely worthless.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He thought to himself as he dressed himself and brushed his beard to be something presentable. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“There’s potential yet in the good people…. And the mundane folk no doubt want for change as much as we do, even if they think of us as their enemies. Damnable lies got ‘em gripped.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>As he managed his scraggly facial hair, Maxwell sat down on the extremely comfortable bed draped in expectantly crimson blankets and gave a hard glance toward a bedside radio. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The dials and knobs turned, cycling through a slew of various stations until he rested on something intriguing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Recent reports surrounding the budding coalition surrounding the usage of magic and the existence of anomalous objects and beings continue to reveal more and more nations rallying to the cause. Just this morning, the president of Turkey issued a statement in show of direct support for the sanctions on, quote, ‘anomalous entities,’ and went on to say that in the near future, he would like to ‘include his nation among the list of signees.’ Truly the effects of the massacre at Ludinghal can be felt around the world, as small bands of self proclaimed ‘witch hunters’ seek to exorcise individuals from communities who are known to or believed to be of magical origin. Years of bubbling hostilities and tension have truly come to burst.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A british man read the news in a very controlled manner. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell could only shake his head and listen further. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Riots and general civil unrest is especially common both in retaliation to the witch hunts and as an extension of said hunts; dark times abound world wide as many world leaders struggle to handle the matter of a new population that well and truly came from out of nowhere: Anomalous or magical entities, sometimes referred to as ‘Fae folk,’ continue to met with confusion and violence from nearly all populations within major cities; most have retreated en masse, or by means of self exile, out into the countryside, where some have been reported to simply wander in the wild or begin to set up small isolated communities. With violence and unrest being so common however from the general population, nations affected most by the Fae folks’ appearances are strained to prosecute the beings for their unlawful settlement of land. People worldwide are advised to stay away from these communities and to continue to avoid anomalous entities as much as possible.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Maxwell felt sick; their rhetoric was like a verbal toxin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“In related news, Arno Siegler, once the Lead Secretary of Speartip Security who oversaw the handling of the Ludinghal affair and Germany’s general rise in efforts to secure their lands, has been appointed as acting CEO of the agency in light of a sudden illness that befell it’s previous CEO, Gerald Oswald. Siegler has made it a point to expand aggressively and buy up various other private security forces. Here’s a statement from Mr. Siegler just yesterday in regard to the anti-anomalous coalition and Speartip’s expected involvement in international affairs.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A voice recording of Arno followed, translated from German to English. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Naturally, when the world is threatened, we cannot just respond as individual nations; yes, each nation has its own unique troubles, but when we unite our efforts under organizations such as the United Nations, NATO, and so on, we as the good and honest people of the world can persist through any struggle. I hope to bring Speartip Security up to the standards of those aforementioned organizations, so that we might work in concert with them to help and secure the world for humanity. If we work together, we can see a return to normalcy; stand with me, and stand with humani</span>
  </em>
  <span>—” That was enough of that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell rose from his bed and gathered up his things. He wanted to be away from this place, as it depressed him as much as it comforted him. Astrid did good work, for sure, but sorcerers and arcane beings had fallen on truly hard times; now, like so many second class and oppressed peoples that to this day knew nothing of justice, witches and fae were being cast out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The time for euphemisms and denials of their existence had passed; the world could not be fed such brazen lies easily. Magic was real, alive, and returned, and that would likely never change. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“If they can’t hide us away, treat us like street magicians, then they’ll see us dead.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Maxwell grimly concluded. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“The Baelfire's needed now more than ever then.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Has passed down the halls of </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Red Sun</span>
  </em>
  <span> in search of the exit; it was always a confoundingly complex place, but eventually he found his way. The Felinine Receptionist, now transformed as just a black house-cat with a small half-bodied tuxedo on, snoozing on top of the desk. Maxwell paid her no mind and left her to her rest as he made for the upstairs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were goodbyes to be had, but ultimately, he needed to get back on the road. He’d be headed for the southern end of the British island, where more covens and witch-families congregated due to its geographic closeness to Luna Nova; last of the openly known Witch academies. There’d be stops to be made along the way as well, and maybe he’d even make to stop by Luna Nova itself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell had no interest in trying to rouse children to fight, but the professors there might know of places to be sought out, and, now that he thought about it, their graduation ceremony would be held soon. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Maybe that new generation of witches holds the sparks we need.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was a longshot, like everything else, but it was a better plan than watching the world burn. That said, he was struck with a sudden forgetfulness when his mind wandered to the memories he had of Luna Nova; he had visited it once or twice in his youth out of curiosity. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Where did the Blytonbury leyline drop you off at again…. It was just outside of the school no? In that tow… towe…. Lighthouse? No, there never was a tower, was there.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He felt a sudden uneasiness but dashed it aside with a shake of the head as if rousing himself from his groggy state.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Maxwell made his way up to Astrid’s home above the bar, he made sure to remember to ask for something to perk up his senses; no use in driving around foggy eyed. It was going to be a long few days, he could tell. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you all enjoyed that! Chapter 13 will come in time! Check my Tumblr for updates!</p><p> </p><p>PS: Feel free to... experiment with the Gdocs.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Believe in Me (Who Believes in You)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>EIGHTY PAGES ON A GDOC! 26K WORDS! I'm hyped to bring you this chapter! It's a big payoff for Conz and Amanda's character and the beginning of their venture out into the wider world to discover the power they'll need to re-take Luna Nova! </p><p>Before I get very spoilery though, have a read! There'll be some notes at the bottom.</p><p>Here's my tumblr! https://karmotrinedreams91.tumblr.com/</p><p>And please don't hesitate to comment or leave kudos! It's the best ways for me to know what I'm doing right and wrong so I can fix those mistakes and keep hitting on the good notes!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Pop! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The bubble that had ferried the dynamic duo and their crimson “chariot” to shore burst unceremoniously against the soft sand. The two of them flopped unconscious onto the beach as the sand conformed to their shapes. Waves lapped at their heels and knees; high tide had been kind enough to get them to relative safety within an hour or two, but that was hardly good news given the frigid temperature of the water in winter. </p><p> </p><p>They stirred and shivered while asleep for some time, and only Amanda awoke to the jaunty whistling tune of a peculiar fisherman. Her eyes opened slowly, closed, and then opened again with intensity; Amanda struggled to breathe, coughed up a small bit of salt water while laying on her side, and rolled onto her back. All the while, she could hear the telltale sound of a fishing line being cast far out into the waters. Her sputtering and hacking eventually subsided when she managed to gather enough strength to shakily hold herself up on all fours. </p><p> </p><p>Amandas’ groggy eyes rose to find a kooky looking fisherman sitting out on a rock that jutted out from the otherwise placid beach with a tacklebox and gutting knives; it was as though he didn’t even realize there were two possibly dead bodies just twenty feet from him. “O-Oi....” Amanda weakley called out while reaching out with her left arm. “A... little fucking help…?” </p><p> </p><p>“Hmm!?” The cleanly shaven fisherman, who was likely somewhere in his late forties to early fifties, turned his head alarmedly to Amanda. His whole face and upper body ruffled, as if a chill went down his spine, but his face was conveying something more akin to disbelief and bruskness. “You fucked kelp!?” His scally cap nearly fell off of his head from the motion.</p><p> </p><p>“N-No!” Amanda let her head droop. “I need fucking help!”</p><p> </p><p>“You <em> need </em> to fuck kelp!?” The wild eyed fisherman leaned in confusedly.</p><p> </p><p>“I swear to god….” Amanda got onto her knees and tucked her hands under her armpits. “HELP! With an H you stupid sunnuva—!” She clearly hadn’t coughed up every last bit of sea water as one last bit of bile found its way onto the sand before Amanda as she leaned over while heaving. Everything felt heavy as her clothes were sopping wet, and she was almost certain she might just get hypothermia if that crazy looking fisherman didn’t do something. </p><p> </p><p>The portly fisherman smiled and spoke up, his southern English accent being quite clear in his voice. “Ohhhh! Why didn’cha say so?!” Ultimately he did nothing at first, despite his acknowledgement. A few moments passed as he refocused on his cast line with a sudden fierceness. Then came the tug, and with ease, he reeled in a fair sized Star-Bass; a fish with twinkling green scales often used in magical rituals involving the sea, as it was a very common magical fish. </p><p> </p><p>“Gotcha! Haha!” The thing floundered and flopped in the aiur, but was inevitably put aside in a cooler after being given a quick stab to the head. Then the fisherman leapt down from his rock with a surprising bit of grace and stuck his pole into the sand beside. He whistled that same jaunty tune as he casually strolled over, again, not seeming to understand the severity of the situation, and offered a hand. “Nice to meet ya miss! Benjamin! Benjamin Gibson at yer service.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda gave Benjamin the most dumbfoundedly “done” expression she could muster, one that would put even Constanze’s most callous glare to shame. Still, she accepted the offered hand and struggled to her feet. “Amanda… Amanda O’Neill…. Mind telling me what the hell you’re doing?” Her words were rushed as a biting wind from off the coast struck against the shore and had Amandas’ teeth chattering. </p><p> </p><p>Benjamin hardly seemed to notice in his heavy coats and general dryness. “You got eyes miss? I’m fishin’ of course!” He vigorously shook Amanda’s hand before she pulled away with haste to bury it in her otherwise ruined leather jacket. “Cold feet eh?”</p><p> </p><p>“COLD EVERYTHING, DUMBASS!” Amanda screamed. </p><p> </p><p>“Now, now! No need to get all riled up!” Benjamin stepped away, his posture becoming almost comically defensive. “If you need some warmth, why don’t you ride home with that trike of yours?”</p><p> </p><p>“T-T-Trike!?” Amanda could feel her blood pressure soaring to astronomical heights. She forced herself to calm with a furious exhale and a bit of face-slapping to wake her up. “We… don’t… live around here, understand!? We kinda washed up! Like! On the shore… somehow!” Amanda had no clue just how the hell they were alive, but she could question that later; Constanze was still unconscious and could have been freezing to death. </p><p> </p><p>“Well that’s what happens when you try to sail on a trike!” Benjamin laughed heartily and gave Amanda the most “shit-eating-grin” possible; either he was well and truly mad, or he was taking the biggest piss out of this encounter. “Ahh come now, don’t give me that look.” Amanda’s eyes were twitching with incomprehensible anger. “Me sister’s got a little house she rents out to plenty of folk, but no one ever comes by during the winter months. I’m sure she’d be happy to get you some nice blankets, hot drinks, and even a place to stow that trike of yours.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda spoke through gritted teeth that barely contained her rage. “Great!” Every mention of the word “trike” brought Amanda about one step closer to homicide. “Now could you maybe <em> help </em> me with getting the bike there? I’ve got a friend to carry!” She turned around and shakily knelt down beside Constanze. Her pulse remained, but she was as cold as Amanda and still out light like a light. “Like, now!?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm? Ah, yeah, sure. I’ll bring it on up by the house in aaaa… an hour?” Benjamin shrugged his shoulders and puffed up his cheeks innocently. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda’s response was delayed as she struggled to get Constanze into a piggyback position, having called on a simple spell to bind the two to each other with a simple-summoned-rope. “You know what… sure… in an hour…. But uh, quick question.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm?” Benjamin scratched at his side nonchalantly. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, so… what fucking house are we supposed to go to!?” Her initially forced calm voice became uproarious once more as her patience thinned like thread. </p><p> </p><p>“Ohhh, yeah, not from ‘round here. It's the green’n!” </p><p> </p><p>“The green one…?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah the green one! Got a cute few garden gnomes out front, beautiful little bird pond, down on Fowl Street next to the—”</p><p> </p><p>“Fowl Street! Yes! Cool! Thanks!” Amanda was wholeheartedly done with this conversation and tried her damndest to trudge on back with Constanze in tow, but found her legs too weak and her friend just a bit too heavy; especially with all of those tools. </p><p> </p><p>“Ahh, well you’ll never make it back that way!” Benjamin said knowingly as he gave Amanda a toothy grin and an over exaggerated wink. “Wait right here, I’m gonna check my little fishin’ hut for somethin! Don’t move!” Then he was off and away, jogging clumsily along the beach just a few hundred meters or so away toward that aforementioned hut in the distance. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda, left without many other options, gently set Constanze and herself down before she conjured a weak flame with what little strength she had from her wand. She willed the embers to dance and run along Constanzes’ and Amandas’ bodies, warming the feet, hands, and head especially to prevent true hypothermia from setting in. Still, Constanze remained unconscious, but at least breathed more clearly as warmth brought her bodys’ functions back up to speed. “Now I wish that stupid fire in me was real….” Amanda still had no idea what to make of that encounter down in the Sanctum, but by the Nine was she cold.</p><p> </p><p>A few minutes passed before Benjamin eventually returned with a whole lot less urgency that Amanda would have liked. In his hand was a broom, of all things. “Hello again!” He chipperly nodded. </p><p> </p><p>“Wait a minute… how did—”</p><p> </p><p>“I know you were witches?” Benjamin completed Amanda’s question with another “shit-eating-grin.” He tossed the broom over while speaking. “Simple! There’s dark and stormy clouds that really ain’t right one bit hangin’ over Luna Isle where all you witches go to study and learn your bippity boppity bamboozlings. So <em> that </em> must mean that you two are the <em> lucky </em> witches who get to go and save the world from whatever dark powers and nefarious blokes who be causin’ trouble over there!” He squatted down, now just a few feet from Amanda. “Savvy?” He tipped his scally hat with a chuckle. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda stared at Benjamin for what could have been a whole ten minutes, but was really just a very long thirty seconds. She wiped her eyes and pinched her cheek once or twice just to make sure this was real. “Uhhh… yeah. That’s… exactly what’s going on. I mean… minus the world ending part, I think?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ohhh! So it’s just tuesday then?” Benjamin checked his watch.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda sputtered and struggled to begin her next statement as she too checked the date with a simple spell; yes, it was indeed tuesday. “I’m… I’m fuckin’ done.” She wiped her face with slow resignation.</p><p> </p><p>Benjamin simply laughed and hollered. When he was finished, he rose to his feet alongside Amanda and the two quietly helped Constanze up onto the broom, securing her as needed. Amanda then straddled the broom as best she could and gave Benjamin a long, tired look. “Hey.”</p><p> </p><p>“Aye?”</p><p> </p><p>“What the hell’s wrong with you?” </p><p> </p><p>“Well….” Benjamin crossed his arms and upturned his chin. “I don’t mean to brag, but….” He trailed off, allowing the comedy of his statement to answer Amanda’s question. </p><p> </p><p>“And where… where did you get an enchanted broom?” Amanda examined the old wooden thing, noting the worn runes etched into it. “You a witch too?”</p><p> </p><p>“Witch!? Do I look like a witch?” Benjamin guffawed all too dramatically. “I’m a fisherman! I catch fish!” </p><p> </p><p>“Right…. Thanks, by the way. I’ll… see you again sometime.” She kinda hoped that she wouldn’t, but had a bad feeling that she would. Amanda waved exhaustively as she was forced to verbally cast a spell that typically came naturally. “Tia Freyre….” She groaned. The broom took flight and began to slowly carry its two passengers on toward Fowl street. </p><p> </p><p>“If ya need me!” Benjamin called to the two as he became more distant. “You’ll know where ta find me!” His wav was far more vigorous, and his smile was plain on his face even as his other features became indistinct. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda could only shake her head and slump forward while on the broom. “The whole world’s gone fucking mad, hasn’t it?” She asked just about every god and greater power in existence, but was met with an expectantly silent response, and a cold gale. Constanze groaned loud enough to be heard; that had Amanda smiling at least. <em> “Either way, we’re gonna get through this; together.” </em></p><p> </p><p>The Flame eagerly awaited the journey ahead; the Balefire called, and most assuredly, Amanda and Constanze would answer. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>Constanze awoke with a rumbling groan. Her eyes didn’t even try to open as she felt she needed at least three more weeks worth of sleep, but her body and mind were otherwise roused from slumber. Immediately, things didn’t feel right. Constanze felt she was dry, <em> comfortable </em> even, and instinctively found herself pulling up on the cozy blankets that had been laid over her until she was swaddled in them. </p><p> </p><p>Now buried beneath a small mound of wondrously warm fabric and hid away from the slight light that bled through the bedroom window, Constanze opened her eyes. Naturally, she could see barely anything save the patterns on the blankets, but that coupled with the unexpected dryness and the authenticity of her senses had her convinced that this was neither a dream nor the afterlife. <em> “Crashed. Fell. There was water…. Freezing water.” </em>She thought to herself while practicing a steady breathing pace as to ward off any sudden fits of anxiety given their most recent perils. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Amanda. Amanda might be hurt, or worse.” </em> Constanze needed to get up, but her body was fighting against that notion with all of its might. <em> “Have to….” </em> She wasn’t really sure what she had to do then; their plan was as nebulous as it was daring. They needed allies, but what allies did Luna Nova even have? Were witches as returned as magic? Constanze had a bad feeling the answer to that was no based on what she remembered of the meeting down in the sanctum. <em> “Have to get up.” </em> She reaffirmed in lieu of any other objective to pursue. <em> “One step at a time.” </em> Constanze was often one to get caught up planning far too much in advance when stuck with such weighty decisions, though she wouldn’t let her anxiety win out over her just yet. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze mustered her faculties and threw off the blankets and sheets from over her head and onto her lap in front of her. She sat up and wiped at her eyes until everything felt clear. She threw back her messy hair, left long and draping without the oversized bow she typically wore, before shifting her posture in the bed so that her legs dangled over the side. Only then did she look down and find herself in an appallingly “cute” nightgown; it was pink, had frilled ends down past her knees and at the end of the short sleeves, and generally seemed more suited to a child. Constanze just happened to be only five foot or so, to her boundless contempt. “Mmmm!” She grunted angrily. <em> “Just where am I anyway?” </em> </p><p> </p><p>Her eyes scanned the room, and again, she found it more befitting a child, or at least it reminded her of the room she had back home. That was what unsettled her most. Everything was clean, but just aged enough to be considered forever dirty or worn; bits of paint had been scraped away on the corners of nightstands and dressers that were otherwise pristinely kept. The wood beneath that vineer showed in the cracks and gave everything a date just by looking at them; Constanze estimated through her groggy analytics that the place was likely furnished from the 1950’s. There were no pictures, but she could see the faded patches on the walls where the outlines of rectangles, big and small, marred the otherwise soft-pink paint job. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze wiped her hair back and shook her head once more as she blinked before she took to stand. Her toes were wrapped in bandages; nothing heavy, and she could move them fine, but given what she remembered, she presumed that the early onset of frostbite had gotten to them. Her fingers were much the same, but at least they didn’t hurt too badly to touch things. She moved to the doorway across the room at a quick pace for how tired she still felt, but she needed to know what happened to Amanda. </p><p> </p><p>Just as her hand rested on the knob though, the door opened from the other side, unveiling the very witch Constanze sought in an outfit that didn’t properly suit her; it just didn’t fit right, much like the nightgown Constanze was wearing. She was in simple jeans and a yellow T shirt with a deep-V neck; a sleeveless shirt underneath could be seen by way of the straps. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda smiled wide as she saw Constanze up and about and instantly went down to hug her, but thought better of it as she remembered her friend’s more conservative nature when it came to physical affection. “C-Conz! You’re ok!” She settled for an open ended hug that Constanze could choose to meet or leave hanging. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze chose the latter; she wasn’t in the mood, and she had a few questions for Amanda that had her otherwise upset with her partner. “What happened?” She said quite plainly, pushing past any pleasantries. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda dropped her arms somewhat expectantly, but with an innate bit of awkwardness, as she spoke. “We’re in Porthcurno; little town on the southern coast of England.” Amanda spoke of it with some familiarity, as she’d passed over and through it at least twice when she decided to forgo using the leyline in her trips down to Luna Nova. “Cute little place, kinda dull, but I think we’ve seen enough action for one day.” She put her arms to her hips and pursed her lips; they’d done well to even survive this long, but they still had work to do.</p><p> </p><p>“The house?” Constanze raised a brow. “And… this?” She pulled at the gown then before gesturing to the yellow shirt and pants that were one size too small for Amanda. </p><p> </p><p>“Ahh, yeah… Ms Gibson; she runs her old family house like a BNB, you feel? Met a weird dude down by the beach when we washed ashore.” Weird was an understatement, but Amanda wasn’t about to try and unpack the fact that he had an enchanted broom and that he seemingly knew what was going on. “Apparently this is his sister, and she had some rooms open; has a soft spot for witches.” She hadn’t spoken to Ms. Gibson much, or Winnie, as she preferred, but she learned at least that the rooms they were staying in used to be her son’s and daughter’s respectively; both were witches, or at least magic users to some extent. “Hand me downs she had laying about; can’t complain.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can.”</p><p> </p><p>“I mean, I can too, but, you know.” Amanda shrugged her shoulders. “Better than what we had; it’s all salty and wet and gross.”</p><p> </p><p>“Did you not just use magic to fix them?” Constanze pinched the bridge of her nose. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m uh… not the best at… fixing things like that, we’ll say. I’m more in the business of breaking stuff.” Amanda’s head waved slightly from side to side. “I mean, except my bike you know; the important stuff.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze palmed her face. “Du bist schlimmer als Akko….” </p><p> </p><p>“O-Oi! I am <em> not </em> as bad as Akko.” Amanda leered just a bit in retort. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze, surprised that Amanda had come to learn anything of German, widened her eyes just a tad before shaking her head. “Debatable.” She crossed her arms then. “Not important. Will fix later.” She was really wanting a pen and paper right now, but expediancy was on the mind. “Where is your bike? Is it working?”</p><p> </p><p>“It's in the garage, but sadly she’s not in good shape.” Amanda sorrowfully turned her head to the side. “She ain’t scrap yet, but it’s pretty bad. Would take a lot of magic and tinkering to get her right.” </p><p> </p><p>“Doubt it.” Constanze exhaled sternly through her nose. “Give me a day and my tools. And a junk bike. It’ll be fixed.” Constanze was not in the business of waiting any further; their friends were in danger, time stopped or no, and while Amanda wasn’t a slacker, she wasn’t as critically focused as Constanze. </p><p> </p><p>“Oi, oi.” Amanda held out an arm to stop Constanze as she made to push past the flamingo haired witch. “Let's give it a few hours…. We’re nowhere near ready to just drive off to go get help. Let’s lay sound groundwork first, get our bearings…” She tugged at the uncomfortable shirt. “And some actual clothes, unless you wanna go find trouble in some fuzzy slippers and a towel.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze grunted annoyedly at being halted, but acquiesced that Amanda’s points made sense; perhaps her anger was getting to her. <em> “That goddamn bastard.” </em>His face; the well cut and trimmed brown hair and beard contrasted by the deathly pale skin. His boxy jaw and pointed fangs; the ruthlessness and hate in his voice when he called her family name. </p><p> </p><p><em> “VON BRAUNSCHBAAAAANK!” </em>Nikolai’s voice echoed in her mind; a reminder of her own hate, her own vengeance. </p><p> </p><p>“Uh, Conz.” </p><p> </p><p><em> “He killed them. He probably enjoyed it too.” </em> Constanze saw the madness in his gaze; those eyes knew malice like it knew the carnal pleasures of the flesh. There was  sadism and satisfaction, the ecstasy of superiority to be found in Constanze’s death that had been denied, one that he no doubt took in the killings of her family members; nuclear and extended. <em> “And for what? My family’s as boring as ever. Especially for a witch family. We didn’t do anything. We never bothered anyone. Why the whole town?” </em> So many neighbors, who admittedly were like strangers to Constanze, but who deserved to live all the same. <em> “Every last one of them. I’ll shoot him once for every single life he </em> — <em> ”  </em></p><p> </p><p>“Conz!” Amanda snapped her fingers twice while leaning slightly forward. “You alright?”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze remembered her position, remembered to breathe, and remembered to unclench her fists; loosen her shoulders, jaw, and let her brow unknit. Her fury fell beneath the skin once more as the pressure in her head was relieved. It was still ever present, but she could at least control it to some extent. “I’m fine.” She plainly lied with a fierceness in her voice. “Getting pants. Need to get working.” She didn’t have time to go to clothes shop, but she also was in some desperate need of things that actually fit her, and so she stepped away from Amanda and shut the door with some force. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda jumped just a bit in response, having not expected such an abrasive reaction from Constanze, even with the circumstances. “Shit….” She had a bad feeling that she had somehow fucked things up for them, even if she didn’t, and had a worse feeling that Constanze knew exactly who they were fighting now. Amanda could only hope that Constanze didn’t suspect her of withholding that information; which Constanze absolutely was aware of, hence the anger. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda wiped her brow and fixed her still just slightly off hair once more before she turned on her heel. <em> “Conz ain't much one to talk.” </em> She surmised. <em> “Best to let her come to me, I guess.” </em>She’d wait out on the porch. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze meanwhile was left staring down at her hands just behind the door she’d slammed. They were clenched into a fist again against her natural instincts which had her wanting to move on and focus on the tasks at hand. Instead she was left with a burning desire for destruction. She had never known anger like this, but after having seen the face of her killer, after her friend <em> must </em> have known that they were here, given how Amanda regarded Nikolai as though she had faced him already, Constanze could know no peace; not now. Were it not the house of a stranger, a refuge given to them out of kindness, Constanze would have likely punched a hole in the wall, had she the strength to.</p><p> </p><p>Her breathing was hot, heavy, and intense. Every rise in her chest was a breath of baleful rage come to life, moving the mechanisms of her body to violent action, even as her mind, similarly enraptured by vengeance, cautioned against such recklessness. Constanze almost felt dizzy by how conflicted she felt. Her fingernails made marks in her palms and her ears gently rang from how her head shook; her face was twisted ruefully. She had known bottomless sadness before, and rage to go with it, when first learning of her families’ death, but now, having come face to face with the culprit, her sorrow had been overtaken by cruelty. </p><p> </p><p>Only the feeling of lightheadedness, that fainting feeling, brought her out of that maddened stupor and into a tearful release. She held one now reddened palm to the wall beside her as to keep her standing and gently sobbed with her head hung over. Her tears were few and far between, but each felt like a defeat to have wept them; she had cried enough, she thought. <em> “They did this to me…. I just want to go back. Things were simpler. Easier. I want to go away. Get away from it all.” </em> Her wallbound hand tightened again as she reckoned with reality. </p><p> </p><p>She imagined a solitude; a paradise. Just her and her works… and Sucy. Could she just do that? She had thought it impossible before, in fact, she <em> knew </em> that such a thing was impossible, and yet the desire lingered. The haunting image of those sufferers, the ones without chains, flashed briefly in her mind's eye. Constanze’s breathing quickened but slowed just as soon as she caught herself spiraling into an anxiety fueled panic. <em> “No. No, no. Not giving in. Not letting go.” </em>Her wallbound fist relaxed and she shuffled toward the closet while wiping her cheeks and running her hands along her body as if to remind herself of what was real and current. </p><p> </p><p>She was alive now, she felt dead inside, but that was just a feeling; one that she could conquer. <em> “Breathe. Focus and breathe. Just focus… and breathe.” </em>And so she did; there was much to discuss yet, and even more to be done. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Amanda looked at herself in the changing mirror awkwardly. The clothes she’d picked out were just fine, but it felt wrong to even be worrying about such a thing at a time like this. Nevertheless, she wasn’t about to go potentially cross country with only one set of clothes to wear that actually fit her. She’d picked up a heavier leather jacket than her last, eager to find comfort in familiar fashion, found some proper brown combat boots, and assembled a small collection of plain clothes and coats to get them through the week. She never liked anything fancy to begin with, but this was all especially utilitarian. The price tag on all of it was still an eyesore.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Really wish that stupid card still worked right now.” </em> Amanda thought almost aloud as she checked some of the costs. <em> “Really wish my last job actually paid much.” </em>It was honest work at the least. Less honest pay though was just a spell away, she realized. </p><p> </p><p>She formed a sly grin as she stepped out of her dressing room, finding a sternly faced Constanze sitting on a bench across from her, dressed much more comfortably both in aesthetics and fitting. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze wore a fine navy colored trench coat; not like something a brooding or mysterious looking stranger might wear, but a sort that was not only navy in color but in design. Two flaps were attached at the shoulder, reaching down halfway toward the elbow and just above the breast. Two straps were put atop said flaps with golden buttons to match all the others on the sailor-like-dress-coat. Four buttons kept the coat closed on the chest while a simple belt had it fitting snugly around Constanze’s waist, separating the top piece from the extended dress-furls that reached to her knees. The long sleeves were similarly marked with gold facets to loosen or tighten them at the wrist as needed. Otherwise, Constanze was clothed in black slacks with matching boots that were meant for wear and tear. </p><p> </p><p>The rest of her clothes were more utilitarian, but she allowed herself this one fashion piece if only because it reminded her of Luna Nova’s own student uniforms with the way the shoulder flaps mimicked the cowls and capes, and the colours were similar enough. She even found a replacement for her old bow and had tied her hair back accordingly. “Done?” She asked with a tinge of impatience. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeaaaah… done. But uh,” Amanda looked around, checking for eavesdroppers in that otherwise quaint clothing store. “We need some cash; I’m near broke, and I doubt you got enough for all of this.” Her tone became a sneak thief's whisper. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze rolled her eyes. “You’re just realizing this now?” She shared none of Amanda’s caution in her volume, but she never spoke loud to begin with. “Wallet.” She demanded tersely by holding out her hand. </p><p> </p><p>“Eh? Got an idea?” Amanda said while doing as asked. “I’m not really one to go pickpocket some poor average joes; maybe if some bougie S.O.B. waltzed in here then sure, but I don’t think this town’s blue enough for that kinda blood.” </p><p> </p><p>“No need.” Constanze chided. She pulled out what pounds Amanda had and examined the paper currency carefully; if she was going to do this she needed everything to be perfect. </p><p> </p><p>“You’ve had a chip on your shoulder all morning; everything… alright?” Amanda had tried asking this earlier but to little avail as Constanze had simply chosen not to respond. “I’m worried about you.” She sat besides Constanze then, looking as worried as her tone might imply.</p><p> </p><p>“Not helping.” Constanze focused more intently on the task at hand though, again, shrugging off those proding gestures for now as paper from a nearby wastebin was levitated on over in front of her. <em> “Have to talk to her eventually.” </em> Part of her reasoned as the paper and the pound were overlapped. She exhaled softly and closed her eyes then and muttered the spell. <em> “Transfigura Duplix.” </em>And so the pound was replicated in every way shape and form with nothing more than a small bit of smoke that poofed around the fraudulent copy. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda, briefly transfixed by just how easily Constanze took to counterfeiting, blinked and spoke. “Uhh… Conz. You s-sure about that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Better ideas?” Constanze glanced to her left and found Amanda staring in surprising with a slight smile, but found no retort. “Then be quiet. Supposed to be the sneaky one, right?” Constanze had lost track of just how many times Amanda got caught thieving with whatever-the-hell she was after throughout her brief tenure at Luna Nova. </p><p> </p><p>“R-Right! Though uh, I gotta say, didn’t think you had it in ya.” Amanda hushed herself up then after chuckling.  </p><p> </p><p>“Whatever it takes.” There was a certain grimness to Constanze’s voice that was unfamiliar. Amanda recognized it, but did not attribute it to her more engineering companion; it was the kind of pessimism or brooding she expected out of Sucy. More papers meanwhile were transfixed into copies of the pounds until they had more than enough for the clothes and enough left over to help with lodging fees and food should this quest take longer than just a day or two. For the sake of not being caught, the routing numbers and such were all randomized and made in line with the code for circulated bills; Constanze wasn’t someone who worked at a treasury, but she could divine the patterns at least. “There.” She said while handing a handful of neatly compiled counterfeits to Amanda. </p><p> </p><p>“Whatever it takes eh?” Amanda rifled the cash once and stowed it away in her pants pocket. She then looked to Constanze with a returned concern. “You won’t here me complaining about dumb shit like this or other crazy stunts we’ll probably need to pull off before this is over, but—”</p><p> </p><p>“But what?” Constanze had no interest in speaking of anything deeper than the skin in a place like this, and her posture and tune made that very clear. </p><p> </p><p>“N-Nothing… later?” Amanda stuttered awkwardly as she rose up and looked down to the angrily seated Constanze. </p><p> </p><p>“Later.” Constanze affirmed after a brief pause. “Give me space. Then we’ll talk.” Then she got up and made for the front, with bags in hand and wand tucked away safely. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda gathered up her own haul and followed, having committed that advice to memory as she uneasily awaited whatever talk they were meant to have. <em> “And here I thought we’d be talking about my problems.” </em> She thought on that self given statement again and silently kicked herself for coming off as selfish, even if she was the only one who noticed it. <em> “I mean, I want her to be ok regardless, but I was hoping we wouldn’t get into any fights during all of this.” </em>She readjusted the bags of clothes around her arms with a grunt, interrupting her internal dialogue. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p><em> “Guess that makes all of them family.” </em> The thought she had down in the sanctum prior to the battle-meeting played out again, reminding Amanda of how she wanted to feel about Constanze and the others but struggled to put into action. It was hard to love someone as family when you felt like you never had one. <em> “I guess sister’s fight all of the time, but… I mean… does she even feel…?” </em>Amanda felt lost even probing the topic of family outside of blood, and why would she want to understand such a thing? </p><p> </p><p>The voices, those nagging flashbacks and harrying reminders of her blood-families self-purported superiority, and Amanda’s subsequent inferiority, had left an un-washably sick taste in her mouth. <em> “Why does she even care about her folks? I thought they treated her like garbage.” </em>Again, that question vexed her, but it felt so wrong to think even if she felt correct in her reasoning. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze paused to turn and note Amanda’s perplexed and heavily focused stare. She grunted in attention of this but said nothing otherwise. Amanda stumbled slightly in her walk to halt by Constanze’s side. “A-Ah… it’s nothing.” She confirmed falsely, as Constanze could clearly tell. Another grunt let Amanda know that they’d settle it later before Constanze walked on towards the cashier, officially tabling the matter for now. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda sighed as she followed suit, allowing Constanze to handle the transaction. <em> “Just gotta be better than them, I guess.” </em> She referenced her own family especially, but with Constanze well and truly without a family that she longed for, Amanda knew she would have to be better than them too; Constanze deserved love, Amanda was certain of that. <em> “Whatever it takes.” </em>She mirrored her comrades thoughts but spoke internally with confidence and hope; Amanda tried to fight her battles smiling, and not just because she was a cocky hot-head. </p><p> </p><p> For mercy, the business end of things went by smoothly. The cashier thought nothing of their tender; he wasn’t paid enough to spot magically forged, near indistinguishable counterfeits to begin with. And so Constanze and Amanda were on their way back to the house, where they’d spend some time apart to collect themselves in the face of a complex and genuinely daunting series of tasks. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>The bleakness of Castle Bathory’s every corridor and chamber was like that of a miasmal fog found only in the most detestably wretched of swamps. No true mist or gas permeated the air, but there was a heaviness that came with the proximity to such powerful magics both dark and traditional; the forces that kept the ship afloat, and the castle atop intact. </p><p> </p><p>Katalin had come to loathe it to a degree, favoring the more serenely macabre airs their old castle had; perhaps one day, when the Bathory clan’s power was absolute, and the witches were drained of their succulent essences, Katalin could see to some redecorating. Such fantasies were far away from the present though, but those dreams, no, delusions of grandeur eclipsed only by those of Elizabeth Bathory herself, helped keep the more gaudy daughter of the clan focused on her tasks. </p><p> </p><p>Where Nikolai was fueled by fury, conviction, ideology, and desires born from his spirit, Katalin was driven by desire for the material; the control over many empires worth of territories, the enslavement of countless serfs who would wade on every hand and foot of her and her court, and the boundless bounties of a world harvest for everything it was worth and more. </p><p> </p><p>Every step toward the throne room came with a clack of her heels, and her posture mirrored the eccentric and gilded nature of her wild dreams. One arm was bent and held at the waist just above the plume of her billowing dress while the other held a regally jade colored fan that wafted in her face. She was a vampire; she couldn’t really feel cold, but the old habits of nobility died so very, very hard. </p><p> </p><p>Katalin soon came upon the magnificently tall iron doors that separated the throne and courtroom from the labyrinthian passageways of the castle and walked to them effortlessly. Vampiric guards stationed at the gate bowed their heads and opened the way for her; she paid them no heed. Inside, the court was assembled almost in full with many vampires and entrusted necromancers. Those not present were most likely trapped in the time-stopped anomaly that had contained Luna Nova and the many beasties below. Notably, Nikolai was in the central red-carpet walkway toward the elevated throne of night where Elizabeth sat behind a crimson-satin shroud, her attendants silently watching on. </p><p> </p><p>The favored son was, of course, making a scene, though it was not he who initiated such an argument; The Fates had come to argue and scheme after what happened. Katalin had known they would be coming earlier but deliberately avoided arriving on time as to avoid the most aggravating portions of the conversation. She believed her efforts were best spent elsewhere, notably in the dungeons tending to the captured witches who managed to be pulled out of the dome before the sudden freezing of time took over. </p><p> </p><p>“We have told you!” Cause said with her hands raised in malicious retort. “It cannot be done!” Effect echoed as she paced back and forth on the ground next to her red-robed twin. A dismissive wave from Effect preceded their unified response. “This curse is inscrutable! Ineffable! Unceasing! Time is not a domain that can be tampered with by normal sorcerers!”</p><p> </p><p>“Then explain what in the good God’s name is going on down there!” Nikolai roared as he was slightly hunched over. His left arm covered it now, held at chest level as though he were a bowing butler, but all it was meant to do was cover the now tended to wound; the gaping hole lay beneath two plates of metal that had been magically welded onto his chest piece, one on the front and one on the back. His arm over the plate was unnecessary to cover the wound then, of course, but his pride was such that the “augmentation” to his armor was seen as an embarressment. He preferred to look a little hobbled instead, for whatever reason. “Or what <em> isn’t </em> going on down there, I should say!”</p><p> </p><p>“Experimentation results… poorly yielded!” Chaos stammered as she tried to remain on the edge of the conversation, standing behind Will who scowled at any who dared meet her gaze. “Dome the bay it holds at!” She paused to breath sharply twice before slapping herself to cohesion; a bit of nearly dead flesh flew off of her cheek and onto a most disgusted vampire noble. “The dome holds it at bay, for now.” Her sense was returned for the time, though the pain from her transformations was excruciating, even as it was hidden from sight by way of illusory magicks. </p><p> </p><p>“That is not our concern, witch.” Katalin formally joined the conversation as she approached past a few lesser vampire nobles and knights. Her self-fanning continued and hid sight of her face, preventing keen and astute observers to pick up on the tells of her lies or half-truths; even when she spoke only of truths, there was always a duplicitous motive behind her negotiations when she and those involved were not of the exact same mind. “The blood is all we want; all <em> you </em> want.” </p><p> </p><p>“Place words in Our mouth at your peril, leech.” Will curtly remarked as her eyes temporarily fell on Katalin.</p><p> </p><p>“Now, is that truly how you wish to address allies?” Katalin feigned offence. Will’s glare only grew sharper before it drifted away; she had no time for goading. </p><p> </p><p>“We’re hardly allies!” Nikolai, Cause, and Effect all said in unexpected unison. They then leered at each other and shared some otherwise unintelligible insults. </p><p> </p><p>“Ridiculous….” Katalin shook her head with a groan. “Our preferred means are simply clashing, and in the face of this <em> particular </em> roadblock, I do not believe either method would have yielded better results.” She looked to Cause and Effect specifically with a smirk. “And was it not you two who came to <em> us </em> , seeking aid? Was it not <em> you </em> who brokered this alliance?” </p><p> </p><p>Cause and Effect growled before chiding together. “Regret in hindsight!”</p><p> </p><p>Chaos interrupted, remarking on Katalin’s first statement. “Wise…” She coughed up flecks of black bile into her cloak. “Words… to be coming from the one who demanded such a change of plans.” Her usage of the word “wise” was of course wholly sarcastic. </p><p> </p><p>Will stepped in to speak for them collectively; her volume was above all others present. “Your fast and loose interpretation of our agreement has earned Our ire, Katalin.” Will lightly pushed past The Twins to stand before the taller vampire lady. “And it may have cost us victory this day. Had your forces not been more disciplined and swift in their assault, and less concerned with the live capture of the witches, then those remnant holdouts would not have harried you for so long. In turn, it would have been a forgone conclusion that the upper levels of the academy would have been seized.” Will raised a brow inquisitorial. “Or did you not know that the powers that have halted our efforts originated from near the library? Perhaps that location could have been secured had you stuck to our original plan.” Her words were sharp, quick, and to the point. </p><p> </p><p>Before Katalin could levy a response however, Nikolai interrupted with a shout. “Had you informed us of the academys’ defenses and capabilities, then we wouldn’t even be having this discussion!” He stepped toward the other two with one of his chipped fangs hanging out of his mouth. “Did you know of this power of theirs!?”</p><p> </p><p>“No!” Chaos, Cause, and Effect chimed in. </p><p> </p><p>Will silenced them with an impatiently raised hand. “We were not aware of it, but even without knowing of it, it could have been avoided.” She echoed Cause’s and Effect’s  prior sentiment, though with a colder and more bitter air about her. “Regret in hindsight....”</p><p> </p><p>Elizabeth finally made her ploy to enter the debate proper; her children were useful for handling such matters, but there were always times when the <em> true </em> monarch needed to reign in her court. “Ahem.” She cleared her throat in a manner that was somehow beautiful; that alone drew <em> everyone’s </em> attention. “If I may, dear Fates, allow me to explain our course of action, for Katalin was not the architect of this change, but myself.” She fixed her formerly uninterested posture where she rested her left cheek on a hand and leaned somewhat to that side in her seat; now she stood up and had parted the crimson veils, unveiling her black and blood red dress. An inviting but unsettling smile rested permanently on her face. </p><p> </p><p>Katalin and Nikolai both stepped to one side, making way in the red carpet path while the Fates all assembled with Will at the head in the center of that path. “Do so.” Will replied with just an ounce less of cold anger in her voice, expecting something less asinine and unbearable from the queen of night. </p><p> </p><p>“My most beloved daughter,” Elizabeth gestured to Katalin as she began to walk down from the throne of night, taking each of the twenty steps very slowly and methodically. “Has been quite the… informant on the greater scope of our foe.” Katalin smiled up at her mother upon being praised before curtsying graciously. “My reign is not only challenged by the next generation of witches, but all witches; their existence has plagued the order of things for centuries, as I’m sure you are aware.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your childish interpretation of ‘the natural order’ interests us not. Speak plainly. We have no time for your worthless ideaologing.” Will’s cloak fluttered just a tad by way of a wind from nowhere. </p><p> </p><p>“Hmhm. Prudent as ever.” Lady Bathory almost enjoyed having someone with the gall to verbally challenge her. She tired of the dogged obedience of her subjects at times, even if she would never have them act in any other way. “In short, our enemies are many; and our enemies will still be yours long after this academy is ash. We were promised power in claiming the spoils here, and power we shall have.”</p><p> </p><p>“The materials within the school are forfeit, yes. What use have you beyond sustenance for the witches?” Will could sense there was something being withheld, but she could not pinpoint it. </p><p> </p><p>“Why, it is their blood that shall empower us, of course.” Bathory laughed in a regal manner, but did not allow herself to be carried away as her final step was made onto the floor of the court. “We rely on… mortal sorcerers to do much of our work.” She regarded some of those very souls with hungry eyes and a devilish smirk. “We won’t have need for them once we are bathed in witches blood; fresh witches blood.” </p><p> </p><p>Some of the esteemed necromancers and mortal servants cowered, but before they could begin blubbering for mercy, Bathroy silenced them with a reassuring nod. “Of course, our most loyal servants shall join the clan proper.” This had them astonished and grateful beyond knowing. They quietly groveled and bowed by their masters’ feet while Elizabeth watched playfully. Her lies were greater than Katalins’ own; goddesses-to-be need not be truthful with the unworthy. </p><p> </p><p>Will inhaled slowly and exhaled all the same. Her very breath warmed the otherwise dead-cold stone at her feet with the heat of her tempered anger. “Nevertheless, we deal in the present, not the future. How many witches have you captured?”</p><p> </p><p>Katalin stepped forward. “If I may, mother?”</p><p> </p><p>“But of course.” Elizabeth knowingly glanced at Katalin while gently crossing her arms about her chest such that she looked like a coffin bound woman; the tips of her claw like nails rested on her shoulders. </p><p> </p><p>“One hundred and thirty two, exactly.” Katalin said while stepping forth. “One hundred and thirty two witches, all healthy, healed, and ready to be harvested at our discretion.”</p><p> </p><p>“At <em> your </em> discretion?!” Chaos uproared out of turn, having ascended a few feet into air as she spoke. </p><p> </p><p>“Chaos!” Will chided the other who trembled weakly from her unearthly sickness of the soul before descending. Will then looked back to Katalin and breathed measuredly through her nose; that heat around her was dying out as the numbers of the captured were relayed. “Continue.” The Bathory’s bounty had been greater than initially expected in light of the time-stoppage. </p><p> </p><p>“Gladly.” Katalin grinned, looking past Will toward Chaos just to get a rise out of the smallest and black robed witch who silently replied with a crude hand gesture. Katalin softly chuckled. “They are being held in the dungeons, just below this very throne room, in fact. We hold them for now only because the ritual demands it.”</p><p> </p><p>“The ritual?” Will asked plainly. </p><p> </p><p>“Indeed. There is a special ritual required in order to transfer the arcane powers from the bodies of those witches into us, and it demands that all of the blood intended for use be offered at once. To conduct the ritual piecemeal would result in negligible results overall, and so we must bide our time until a suitable harvest can be reaped.” </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai widened his eyes. “Arcane powers?” His voice was a disgusted whisper unto himself. Only his personal guards heard him, but they would not remark on his likely disagreement. Nikolai would not openly defy his mother’s will either, but he would question the means of this ritual. “Is the number we have truly not enough? How much blood must we gather?”</p><p> </p><p>Elizabeth craned her neck to calmly regard her favored son. “Why, as much as we can gather, Nikolai. Why should beings of absolute power settle for anything less than absolute rewards?” It was a simple but crowd pleasing answer as many of the present nobles and knights cheered in agreement. Elizabeth basked in their fleeting praise, if only out of irony. Their rewards would be absolute indeed. Eventually, she had enough, as she always did of lesser creatures, and silenced them with her claws raised to the sky. “But this satisfies you not, Fate witch.”</p><p> </p><p>“It does not.” Will wrinkled her nose. </p><p> </p><p>“Then allow me to oblige you: Once we have broken the spell that holds our foes and forces in stasis below, we can conduct the ritual and grow in power by orders of magnitude. From there, the world shall be ours to conquer without resistance.” Elizabeth explained with a few open handed gestures while she paced before the Fates. “We will be able to travel across the world in the time it takes one to blink; we can appear anywhere and everywhere. All world leaders will be turned or fall within days. Armies shall be cowed when they find their leaders staked on the lawns of their capitals, and the citizenry shall know only fear. There will be nowhere left to hide, and that goes especially for those of witching origin.”</p><p> </p><p>Will raised a brow, mildly intrigued, if quite tired of their grandiose claims. “And you would prosecute that extermination to term?”</p><p> </p><p>“Without question or fail.” Bathory leaned down to smile toothily at the Fates who collectively grimaced or leered distrustingly. “Why of course <em> you </em> are exempt from such a cull. What sort of rulers would we be to turn on those that enabled our rightful rise to glory?”</p><p> </p><p>“Thorough ones.” Will intoned to the other Fate witch's slight surprise. “But you cannot kill us in any way that matters; no one can.” None but The Pursuer.</p><p> </p><p>Elizabeth stood upright again as she laughed heartily, even as the rest of the court looked confused at how Will had stabbed at the dishonesty of their queen. “My, my, I truly do enjoy talking to you, Will. You see through… almost everything.”</p><p> </p><p> Katalin gently cleared her own throat at that lingering comment, wishing to move on from this topic before either of the leading parties had genuine reasons to lash out at one another. “Might we refocus? The dome remains, as does the freezing of time. How might we solve this problem, Fates?”</p><p> </p><p>Will did not respond at first and simply lowered her unblinking gaze to a normal eye level; the go-ahead that allowed the other Fates to speak. Cause and Effect spoke one after the other. “That is a work,” “In progress.” “Our knowledge of this curse is,” “Limited at best.” Then in unison they explained further. “Magic does not often delve into the concepts of time, but some ancient texts exist detailing the existence of sorcerers known as chronomancers…. They are the stuff of legend, and presumed extinct in art and number.” </p><p> </p><p>Chaos perked up at the word “chronomancer.” Something about that term had her feel… strange. <em> “Familiar. It is familiar….” </em> She thought hard and long and began to bicker with her burgeoning crowd of many souls. Eventually, The Original was able to speak above the rest. <em> “A witch! A Witch In Gold… but who? Why?” </em> Her head began to hurt like she had been awake for days on end. She saw visions of death again, but they were ever so slightly different this time. Was her memory getting worse? Why did she see the same events unfolding in minutely different ways? These were questions she could not answer. <em> “We do but also do not remember…. Was she among </em> — <em> ” </em></p><p> </p><p>“Chaos.” Will’s voice snapped the witch in black to attention, as several minutes of idle discussion on the plan going forward had passed. Chaos recalled some of the information, but had clearly been in a daze. “We are leaving.” </p><p> </p><p>“A-Ah! O-Of course!” Chaos sniffled and wiped her face with the sleeve of her cloak, hiding more of that black ooze that dripped from her now bleeding nose. Was it bleeding before she got lost in her thoughts? She wasn’t sure. “All is settled then?” </p><p> </p><p>“Were you listening…?” Cause rolled her eyes with a groan. </p><p> </p><p>Effect palmed at her face as she stepped past their erratic sister and grabbed Chaos by the collar with her other hand. “Ignore her! Likely got caught up in some silly hallucination again.” </p><p> </p><p>Chaos struggled as she was dragged along, only to break free from Effect with a shove and chittering growl. “We are no child! Now, let us be off!” </p><p> </p><p>Will shook her head heavily. “You embarrass Us; all of you.” She remarked while tearing open a dark portal to their homely void right in the center of the throne room. Many vampires and lesser sorcerers jumped back at this and otherwise grew fearful as terrible howls and guttural noises emanated from the rip between dimensions. The Fates passed through them effortlessly with Chaos being the last one out. She snapped at one of the nearby vampires just before she vanished, unveiling her now pincer-like mouth for just a moment for the sake of intimidation. Then the portal was gone, closed as quickly as it was opened, allowing a wave of calm to ripple out across the crowd. </p><p> </p><p>This left Katalin, Nikolai, Elizabeth, and the other vampires to finalize their course of action. Elizabeth spoke first, of course. “Then it’s settled. While the Fates handle uncovering the likely secrets that will serve as the key to unlocking time, we will expand our interests north and southward; the mainland calls! The nations of Britain and France shall be the first to learn of rightful return!” </p><p> </p><p>Uneasily at first, the crowds rumbled with agreement and soon cheered softly. Nikolai took the stand then. “Shall I ready my men then? Our numbers are diminished but not depleted; we can leave defence of the island to those foul beasts that had been withheld in reserve.” The ship itself could not move, for part of it was stuck in the frozen section of time. Thus, to shift it’s position would see the frozen piece snapped right off of the main contingent. </p><p> </p><p>“Ready them, but not yourself.” Bathory stated perfunctorily as she passed him on her way to ascend the throne again. </p><p> </p><p>“What?” Nikolai felt he didn’t quite hear that right and hobbled a step or two after Elizabeth. </p><p> </p><p>“Ready them, but not yourself.” She repeated with an austere refinement meant to accentuate every word that Nikolai would not miss its meaning. “You are wounded too gravely; broken swords are but a hindrance to the war effort.” </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai almost fell into a rage and only stopped himself by way of remembering his place on the proverbial chain. Though his tone was indeed an unpleasant one. “But I am your best general! None are otherwise qualified to serve you as I do. I am the extension of your wrath far afield!” </p><p> </p><p>“Katalin can handle herself quite well, I believe. We march not against armies, but against the gentry. Their defences will be pitiable. Our aim is merely to feed and sow unrest,” She rose to the height of where the throne stood and sat down lazily as she did prior; her attendants veiled her once more behind the crimson curtains. “And feed we shall.”</p><p> </p><p>Before Nikolai could muster a retort from his quaking lips and tensed expression, Katalin joyously cooed. “Ahhh! A good bit of sport! Delightfully entrusted unto me…. But there is more that can be done than <em> just </em> feeding, dear mother.”   </p><p> </p><p>“You read my mind, I’m certain.” Elizabeth chuckled. “Like mother, like daughter.” </p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm, we shall see to sowing our agents across the countryside then. I’m certain most of the officials of this dreadfully ‘modern’ age would be quite enticed by the prospect of immortality….” Katalin chuckled just a bit. “Not that we’ll give it to them, in the end, but they can help pave the way for our conquests later. Any witches we find will of course be taken back here.”</p><p> </p><p>“But what of—” Nikolai began before he was cut off.</p><p> </p><p>“You shall keep watch over the island, Nikolai.” Elizabeth gestured toward some of the more esteemed necromancers. “They will see to your wounds being resealed. Do try not to struggle against it. You will be put back into play when you are properly ready for battle.” When Nikolai eventually sighed in defeat, Bathory smiled wider behind her curtains. “You are all dismissed.” Two resounding claps from Elizabeth marked the end of the gathering, though she spoke one final time before everyone began to disperse in earnest. “And, Katalin.”</p><p> </p><p>The favored daughter of the court spun about in genuine curiosity. “Yes, mother?” </p><p> </p><p>“After you’ve sent the first scouting party, I want you to meet with me; in private. I have… questions regarding what we spoke of last time.” Elizabeth’s true hunger bled into her speech, piercing that otherwise regal and joyous tone to unveil the depraved lust beneath. “I want to ensure all of the details are in order; everything must be <em> perfect </em>.” Elizabeth gave the order to capture the witches, but Katalin had whispered of the hidden power in their blood.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes! Yes, of course!” Katalin curtsied quickly before hurrying off to her duties along with the rest of the court's members. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai followed slowly and paused to look down at his aching chest with disdain.<em> ”That must have been her.” </em> His mind drifted to the sight of Constanze, no matter how brief it was. He pulled out the crumbled photo from his belt pockets as he shuffled along and fiercely stared into the young Constanzes’ eyes. <em> “As assuredly as God rules over heaven, I saw her!” </em> His breathing became laboured as his humors burned with vengeful desire. His most loyal guards touched him gently on the shoulder as to quietly voice their concern, but were shrugged off rudely. <em> “And I’ll find her again. Upon my honour and oaths, I’ll have her head!” </em>All of this for a young witch. Were he a more self aware and lucid man, he might see the absurdity in his obsession. </p><p> </p><p>The doors to the courtroom shut behind him and his guards; they were the last out. All that remained inside were Bathory and her entrusted attendants then. She reveled in the silence, sipping from a gilded goblet of wine provided by one of the veiled maidens. Soon, she would know this silence for eternity. There would be no enemies, no allies, no sunlight or moonlight. There would be only the darkness of a sky gone black, the blood of a world wrung dry, and Elizabeth Bathory at the center of it all. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>An hour or two had passed; the midday sun hanged in the sky over Ms. Gibson’s home and over the larger Porthcurno. The typical British clouds were merciful today, unlike everything else the two witches had encountered, and allowed for light to shine down on them freely. Given that both Amanda and Constanze had come to recognize their enemies as likely vampires, they cherished that sunlight more than anything. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze was out on the front porch of the green house, sitting in front of a small table that was pressed against the edge of the porch-railing. On the table itself, her tools, or what remained of them at least, were laid out for examination. Since they got home from their shopping, still clothed in what they’d initially bought, they’d separated to try and buy some space for one another. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze had long since wanted to reconcile her tools, and sadly, she found that at least a third of them had likely fallen out of her bag and into the sea when they fell from that cliff. <em> “Barrel and casing are here at least.” </em> She thought silently while running her hand over the skeleton to her caster-blaster. She’d just finished piecing it back together to clean out any water damaged areas. <em> “It’ll have to do.” </em>She sighed with resignation as she leaned back into the rigid wooden chair, finding what comfort she could in it. </p><p> </p><p>She didn’t need to be so thorough with her inventorying, but found it to be a blissful distraction from the worries of her mind. The anger at Amanda, at the vampires, at life, all melted away when she could sit down and really focus on her passion for the machine and mechanical things of the world. Constanze knew she would have to face those problems soon, but a short reprieve was better than nothing, for her sleep was hardly restful, with the falling unconscious in the ocean and all. </p><p> </p><p>Her peace would be disrupted, expectedly, by Amanda, who emerged from the house with a careful step and quiet closing of the old wooden door. Amanda did not immediately look to Constanze and instead took in the shoreward sights; the midday horizon was marred by the black clouds which loomed over Luna Isle. It was a grim reminder, ever present in the background, of the weight left upon Amandas’ and Constanzes’ shoulders. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda exhaled as if she hadn’t breathed in hours. “How the hell did it come to this?” Her tone made light of the danger; it all seemed quite absurd to imagine such a thing just months prior. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmm.” Constanze turned her own gaze toward that black spot on the horizon as she grunted in agreement. “Preventable?” Her voice was more flat, stonewalled; she’d hold back her emotions for as long as she could, having assumed their talk would get heavy. </p><p> </p><p>“Honestly,” Amanda started before she crossed her arms and glanced at Constanze. “Don’t think so.” She tarried with the question of Constanze’s family and their involvement until she eventually decided to just rip the bandaid off and get it over with. “So, you think those creeps are the one who fucked up Ludinghal?” Just play it cool, she thought. <em> “Everyone thinks I’m an idiot already! Wouldn’t be weird for me to not have noticed until now.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Constanze didn’t miss a beat in responding. “You tell me. You saw him first.” She spoke of Nikolai and her brow involuntarily knit just a bit at that. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Shit.” </em>Amanda bit her lower lip briefly. “Well, yeah, he uh, flew up to the New Moon tower after the shielding thing failed…. Tried to make some surrender agreement, but I wasn’t having any of that bullshit.” She started off nervous, but quickly corrected that as to better hide her lie. </p><p> </p><p>“And you didn’t realize he was the one from the video?” Constanze didn’t buy into Amanda’s ignorance one bit. Amanda wasn’t textbook smart, but she was savy and sharp witted when it came to people, faces, thinking on her feet, and so on. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, not, <em> really </em>…. He kinda looked familiar, but shit was going on, things were getting hectic, and I—” </p><p> </p><p>“Look me in the eye.” Constanze demanded with quiet sternness. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda turned as a pang of anxious shock ran up her spine. She saw Constanze staring at her, deadpan. <em> “Guess that makes all of them family.” </em> Now she really felt like an idiot. <em> “Shouldn’t be lying to family….” </em>Amanda forced her eyes to meet Constanzes’ and suppressed her sneaky tendencies, even if she had withheld that information initially out of concern for her friend’s safety. “Alright, yeah, I knew who it was from the second I saw his ugly fuckin’ face.” She was angry sounding, but the only person she was mad at then was herself. “Even blew a hole in his cheek while he tried to monologue at me. I swear he had a big enough ego to make Cavendish look humble.” Amanda rolled her shoulders. “Stupid son of a bitch has some regeneration going on. Must be a vampire thing.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze’s lips twitched into a smile for the most fleeting of moments; she could appreciate the gesture made against her hated foe, but the prospect of being lied to wasn’t exactly comforting. “Why then?” </p><p> </p><p>“I….” Amanda looked up at nothing in particular, gathering her words prior to speaking so as to not flounder. “I was worried you’d get caught up and do something stupid. Especially after we saw Diana run off like a woman possessed when she heard Chariot wasn’t in the sanctum.” Her eyes fell back onto Constanze as she approached and leaned against the wooden railing. </p><p> </p><p>“Really?” Constanze looked and felt dumbfounded. “You. Of all people?” Her body language and general tone filled in the gaps of her terse speaking habits. <em> “You of all people were worried I would do something stupidly dangerous and took measures to stop me?” </em></p><p> </p><p>The irony only struck Amanda then. “A-Ah… yeaaaah.” She rubbed the back of her head nervously. “I mean, come on, I saw how pissed you’d been that whole week; you were a wreck!” Amanda did her best to sound kind and caring in describing this, but she was no wordsmith. “God forbid you get trigger happy, run off, and get killed because you weren’t thinking straight and were out for blood.” She then thumbed at herself. “I’ve done stupid shit—”</p><p> </p><p>“A lot of stupid shit.” </p><p> </p><p>“BUT, I’ve never gotten mad like that, and you know it.” Amanda lazily pointed a finger toward Constanze. </p><p> </p><p>“You mean you were completely cool headed when you jumped down a bottomless pit with a random broom?” Constanze leaned back in her chair.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda opened her mouth to retort but found her arms falling slack to her side as no real rebuttal could be made; she’d been had. “Ok, you got me there.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmm.” Constanze grunted. <em> “I know.” </em>Her own arms were crossed now. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, ok, so I <em> kinda </em> speak from experience!” Amanda still had a point to make. “If I told you that lord-Nicky-of-the-creeps was here and he was the bastard who killed your parents, do you think you’d’ve been able to keep it cool? Be honest.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mhmmm. Mm.” Constanze turned her head away sharply, scowling more noticeably. <em> “You weren’t honest with me, why should I be honest with you?” </em></p><p> </p><p>“Look, I’m trying to explain myself here, can you at least let me do that? Then you can yell at me all you want…. Or just… write some really angry letter if yellin’ ain’t your thing.” Amanda threw her arms up defeatedly and let them flop back down with the same resigned energy that her leaning posture had taken on. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze didn’t turn back toward Amanda for a solid minute, and so both of them waited in silence where only the wind spoke to them. “So he has a name?” It wasn’t an acceptance of an apology, not that much of one was offered yet, but at least she was talking to Amanda. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, Nick, or, Nikolai; something like that. Some pompous looking asshole that called himself ‘Lord’ or some other noble title.” Amanda wasn’t going to let the subject change just yet though, she wanted to apologize properly. “I’m sorry I lied to you, but I really just wanted to make sure we were going to make it through that alive. You know I hate keepin’ secrets from friends.” She wanted to say family, but thought better of it in light of Constanze’s recently deceased kin. </p><p> </p><p>“Hmmmm….” The hum meant nothing, it was just a hum; Constanze had to consider her next words carefully as her emotional center tumbled and turned. “Tell me some things first.” She finally looked back to Amanda with an air of apprehension. Constanze didn’t want some small problem like this to get in the way of their mission, or their friendship, which she hoped to deepen, but she’d been gaslit and lied to far too much; ironically by the very folks who she was trying to avenge. “Then apologize again.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda sighed bealuguerdly as she wiped a hand through her spiky hair. “Alright, fine. You got questions? Shoot.” </p><p> </p><p>“Your certain that was his full name?”</p><p> </p><p>“Lord Nikolai… something, something.”</p><p> </p><p>“The whole thing.” Constanze was taking notes now; Ms. Gibson was kind enough to have provided the selectively mute witch with some pen and paper earlier. </p><p> </p><p>“I wasn’t lying when I said shit was hectic.” Amanda shrugged. </p><p> </p><p>“I know.” Constanze fell quiet as she resorted to just writing out her queries. “Just try and remember. Every bit of information could be crucial.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right, right.” Amanda waved to ease Constanze’s clear urgency and barely contained impatience. “Started with a Z I think.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze noted that down before asking for clarification through text: “Nikolai sounds Slavic. Any discernible accent?” </p><p> </p><p>“About what you’d expect, yeah he was probably Eastern European somehow.” </p><p> </p><p>“Mmmmm.” Constanze grunted to herself as she tried to frame a map in her mind’s eye. “Good enough.” She muttered. “Symbols.” She wrote. “Did he have symbols? Identifiers?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda squinted in thought. “Yeah…” She nodded slowly at first but snapped her fingers and nodded more vigorously afterward. “Yeah, yeah! He had uh… shit what… it was a big green dragon on… I dunno what it was sitting on, but it was like, coiled around….” Amanda held two fingers to her forehead and closed her eyes. “There were three horn-like things and it had a red circle background.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze shifted her chin to the left and looked down at the paper, befuddled at the description. “You draw it.” She asked vocally while handing off the pen and paper. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda looked up and took it eagerly. She got to work with all haste, but found herself erasing or scribbling out the first three drafts. She wasn’t out to win any art competitions, but it had to at least be sensible looking. “And… there. That’s the best you’ll get outta me unless you wanna be here all night.” The paper and pen were passed back with a resigned cheek-blown-breath from Amanda. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze deliberately reclaimed the pad and examined the drawn symbol carefully. <em> “The green dragon… three horns… red background. Checks out.” </em>Her eyes lingered on it scornfully. It took some effort to pull herself away from the spiraling thoughts of vengeance and back toward the conversation. “And he leads them?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hard to tell.” Amanda gently pinched her chin. “You saw that freaky bug-eyed witch right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmm….” Constanze shivered as a cold wind came through. <em> “Wish I didn’t.” </em></p><p> </p><p>“Well she’s one of the ones who was causing all the weird shit at the academy to begin with. The accidents, the dome, all of it.” Amanda spat over the railing into the bushes below the porch. “They’re probably the ones who led those vampires here…. As for all the monsters and Fae, I think they’re under a spell makin’ em go crazy, so I’m doubly sure those weird witches are the cause of that.” Constanze began to write that down, but Amanda interrupted as she remembered something. “Say, did you hear any of those knights yellin’ about a queen?”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze paused her writing suddenly and pressed the tip of her pen somewhat harshly against the paper as she wracked her memory. “Mhm.” She eventually grunted out. “Didn’t get a name.” She said. </p><p> </p><p>“Me neither.” Amanda looked back at the blackness on the horizon; the sight upset her stomach. She forced herself to look back at Constanze, eager to deliver that apology. “That's all you needed from me?” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze rested her pen down at her lap and let the pad fall against her thighs as she parted her lips to speak. The words didn’t come immediately, but she managed to get her piece in a moment later. “No. Too much to do, so little time.” Constanze didn’t trust that just stopping time around Luna Nova would be enough to halt things from getting worse. If the vampires could destroy Ludinghal so flippantly then they wouldn’t have an issue destroying Porthcurno. “But… I… promised we would talk.” She looked back down to the paper and contemplated using it for the remainder of this discussion, but decided against it. Constanze wanted not just to hear Amanda, but be heard in turn. Her childhood had instilled a silence in her, and she had long since struggled to break that bind on her vocal chords. “So let’s talk.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda pushed off of her leaned posture to stand up more straightly then and put her hands on her hips. “So before we get past any of that, lemme just say this properly:” Amanda inhaled and exhaled once with intent. “I’m genuinely, really sorry I lied to you. I hope you get why I did it. You don’t gotta forgive me, but at least accept that I’m sorry and that I’m not ever gonna lie to you again about anything serious.” Then she exhaled more quickly, her words having been a bit rushed as she pushed through the guilt. “There.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze cocked her head to the right and raised one brow up. She sized up Amanda’s earnestness with those keen, analytic eyes of hers. Amanda only grew more nervous looking with every passing moment where Constanze was silent, so eventually, the latter spoke up. “I accept it,” Amanda slumped forward and wiped her brow, sighing with relief. “If you tell me why you don’t take your own life as seriously as you do others.” </p><p> </p><p>All the wind that had built back up in Amanda’s sails had been dashed by a singular sentence that had the otherwise cocky witch sputtering for words. It was going to have to come to this eventually, Amanda knew that much, but Constanze’s sledgehammer bluntness just had a way of coming in from out of nowhere; there was ripping the bandaid off and there was waxing a scab, and this felt like the latter. “Jesus, just gonna hit me with it like that huh?” Amanda had this socially mortified expression on her face that somehow had her chuckling. She had <em> really </em> hoped this would be something that they could go through slowly. So much for that. </p><p> </p><p>“You heard me.” It was hard not to hear Constanze now; her voice was at a normal volume and there was a tenuous bit of confidence infused into every word, made so out of spite for her selective mutism. “You said you wanted to talk about stuff, and I want to help you.” That lingering anger at the world remained ever present in Constanze’s words; it wasn’t like her old frustration she had with social interactions in general. It had fer feeling distracted, though she pushed past it as best she could.</p><p> </p><p>“You sound like Sucy with your definition of help.”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Am I wrong?” Constanze couldn’t deny she was channelling a bit of her Sucy’s empathic acuity and bluntness, but she both admired that resemblance as a bluntly worded woman herself. She lacked the genuine foresight and emotional telepathy that Sucy seemed to have at times, but Constanze had seen enough of Amandas’ troubles to know the basic parts of what was wrong. She just wished Amanda wasn’t so apprehensive about discussing those basic parts; if this was the simple side of things, Constanze almost didn’t want to know how rough it would be to get through the more complex aspects. </p><p> </p><p>“No….” Amanda mumbled after having shoved her hands into her jacket. Her posture shrunk and she leaned up against the railing again. “It’s just fucking depressing, honestly. I mean, I get it: You, Nelson, Hannah, Barbara, hell, I imagine everyone <em> wants </em> me to play it safer, and dammit I do too, but life….” Amanda sucked in her lips as the words were briefly withheld on the edge of her tongue. “Life just had other plans for me. People like me are just… they’re like that and they don’t—”</p><p> </p><p>“Change?” Constanze stole the words right from Amanda’s mouth. </p><p> </p><p>“.... Yeah.” Amanda held her face sullenly in her left hand. </p><p> </p><p>“Not true.” Constanze’s sharp declaration had Amanda peeking an eye out from between her fingers. “You changed a lot.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh yeah?” Amanda dismissively intoned. “How?” </p><p> </p><p>“You used to not care about anything.” Constanze had to remember far back to summon up the memories; Amanda and Constanze were just first years. “You didn’t care about school. You were barely friends with anyone—”</p><p> </p><p>“I was friends with you and Jas, what’re you talking about?” Amanda defensively snapped, more defensively than she meant to be. </p><p> </p><p>“Key word: Barely.” Constanze nodded firmly. “Everything was a joke to you. You goofed off and got into trouble.” </p><p> </p><p>“Your point?” Amanda let her hand fall from her face while she started tapping her right foot against the porch out of anxious habit. </p><p> </p><p>“That changed when you, Hannah, and Barbara started dating.” Constanze sat up in her chair and rested her otherwise cross arms on her lap, allowing her tense shoulders to relax. “<em> You </em> changed when Hannah and Barbara became important to you.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda’s tapping became quicker as she raced to try and invalidate such a claim; she didn’t even know why she felt she had to be obstinate about this, but it had just been internalized for so long that Amanda was as she always had been. Alas, she found only memories that supported the claim Constanze was making, though Amanda would not be able to bring herself to say that, yet. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze raised her voice by a hair as Amanda turned her eyes to the floor in thought. “You actually tried to pass your classes. You passed them. It wasn’t great, but you did it. And you stopped causing—” Constanze caught herself in an erred memory. “You stopped getting <em> caught </em> as often.”</p><p> </p><p>“I get it….” Amanda murmured such that she was not heard.</p><p> </p><p>“And your pranks were less… more… they weren’t as bad. You got involved with the group. You and Akko really hit it off; no more arguments. Even Diana was a friend by the time you….” Constanze pursed her lips, feeling a pang of guilt surrounding the affair that led to Amanda’s self imposed expulsion. “You know.” Ultimately, she knew she wasn’t to blame for Amanda’s choice to throw herself on the fire, but she just wished things had gone just a bit differently. </p><p> </p><p>“I get it!” Amanda raised her eyes to meet Constanzes’ along with her own volume. Then she exhaled calmly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.” and shook her head.</p><p> </p><p>“Why does that make you mad?” Constanze felt her anger soften; the rage directed at the world was diverted more and more the deeper she got into the mesh of Amanda’s personal problems. Constanze wanted to help Amanda as Sucy had helped her. <em> “It’s what people who love each other do.” </em> Her mind idly reasoned. <em> “Love….” </em>She didn’t love Amanda the same way she loved Sucy, not by a longshot, but it was a kind of love nonetheless. Constanze didn’t think much further on it in that exact moment though, and instead recentered her mind on the topic at hand. </p><p> </p><p>“Tch. Wish I knew.” Amanda absolutely knew why, but she also knew that those reasons were multiplicitous, complicated, and greatly rooted in things she’d rather forget; family. “Does it matter? I thought this was about me not giving a shit about myself; all you’re telling me is that I do.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze groaned and shook her head. “You kind of don’t. You changed for other people.”</p><p> </p><p>“And that’s bad?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, but that doesn’t mean it’s good.” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, so I should have just said ‘fuck it’ then too?”</p><p> </p><p>“Verdammt, Amanda! Listen!” Constanze felt her hands form fists and her scowl start to return. She felt a love for Amanda, but right now she needed to be tough in how she gave it. Amanda, recognizing Constanze’s genuine concern, yielded; she would listen. “Thank you.” Constanze tried to calm herself down again but didn’t feel it likely, so she persisted through the rest of the conversation with an agitated temper. “You should be a better person for yourself. Before anyone else. Listen to other people, but don’t just do what others tell you to do.”</p><p> </p><p>Both Constanze and Amanda recognized that Amanda didn’t just listen to anything anyone told her; it was quite the opposite. What Amanda knew Constanze implied though was that this was centered around behavior and mannerisms, the aspects of character, not requests and demands. Constanze allowed a pause between her statements before speaking again. “Ask yourself why you want to do something. Then do it. Did Hannah and Barbara ask you to get better grades?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, duh.” Amanda rolled her eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“But did you do it because they told you to or because you wanted to actually learn?” </p><p> </p><p>“Both. I mean, a lot of that stuff was boring, but…” Amanda was drawn back to her very young years; a child wanting to be a witch that she might escape the materialistic hell of her family's imposed future. “I wanted to stay at the academy, yeah. There, I said it, happy?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” Generally there wasn’t much to be happy about anyway. “But I’m glad you said it. And that you did it.” Constanze felt her brow soften and untense for the moment, though her agitated tone seemed stuck to her like glue. “And what about everything else?”</p><p> </p><p>The question held more weight than Constanze even realized; Amanda had decided to make a lot more changes over the past day. <em> “No more getting drunk all the time, no more long stretches away from home, no more neglecting you guys.” </em>It was roughly what she had said to Hannah and Barbara, and if she was going to deny that and claim that wasn’t an example of her “changing,” then she knew she may as well just quit this conversation. “Same reasons…. I wanted to be better for them.” Amanda sighed. “But yeah, I guess I do wanna be better for myself too.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze hummed lowly as she brought a finger to her chin. “When did that phrase start bothering you?” </p><p> </p><p>“What phrase?”</p><p> </p><p>“You never change.” Constanze’s words still had Amanda feel a negative gut reaction. </p><p> </p><p>“When Sucy said something like that to me.”</p><p> </p><p><em> “You can keep acting like you’re in control and die unsatisfied, or you can drop your pride and accept you’re just as vulnerable as everyone else.” </em> Sucy’s words haunted Amanda’s thoughts still. That stinging winter air hit her again and had her shivering. </p><p> </p><p>“She said people like me and her don’t change….” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze widened her eyes some at the mention of Sucy. “Ah… right.” Constanze had almost forgotten that Sucy had said the exact same thing to her a few days prior; when they held each other close down in Constanze’s workshop. She had taken the assurance from Sucy to be a <em> good </em> thing, but Amanda had framed all of this as some sort of curse or failing. Coins tended to have two sides, she reasoned. Constanze hummed nervously as she remembered back to that conversation. She had promised Sucy not to change, and vice versa, but beyond that, Constanze was reminded of just how much danger Sucy was in. It was disquieting to say the least. </p><p> </p><p>“You know about her business with the Antiquarians, right?” Amanda raised a brow of her own, surprised that Constanze had such a visible reaction to all of this. </p><p> </p><p>“Y-Yes.” Constanze still didn’t like the implications of Sucy’s place among their ranks. <em> “Terminus.” </em> She sounded out the word in her head. <em> “Terminal.” </em>Constanze knew Ibrahim wasn’t treating anyone as expendable, but the possibility of Sucy being spent as such regardless would haunt all who knew of her troubles forever. “We talked it out. We’ll get through it.”</p><p> </p><p>“We?” Amanda cocked her head more and started to grin very slowly. “Wait a second, what do you mean <em> we’ll </em> get through it. I mean, she’s a great friend, I love that weirdo, but you’re givin’ me the vibe that….” Amanda wasn’t actually even sure at first, but the leading statement had Constanze blushing, which was all the giveaway Amanda needed. “No shit! You and her?” The less healing oriented side of her mind was extremely relieved to switch subjects, and hoped desperately to remain on this one; it was more light hearted anyhow, and they could use a reason to smile!</p><p> </p><p>“I said nothing.” Constanze snapped while blushing even harder. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re red-as-hell face sure does though!” Amanda chuckled. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm!” Constanze grunted and squished her own face as she concentrated so very hard on trying to suppress a wholly natural and involuntary bodily function. <em> “Reasons to turn self into a computer: innumerable and growing.” </em>How Constanze wished things were as logical as code. </p><p> </p><p>“Ahh, come on! It’s your old pal Amanda! You <em> know </em> all the girls came to me when they had relationship trouble.” Amanda cockily examined her knuckles and nails. “Who do you think set Avery up with Blair?” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze felt her face become a little less cooler as she thought on that question. “They broke up after a year.” </p><p> </p><p>“Wha—!?” Amanda blinked twice in astonishment, only to recover by clearing her throat and closing her eyes as her grin reformed. “Well, one year is a lot longer than most relationships last. That’s a win in my book.”</p><p> </p><p>“Focus.” Constanze demanded curtly while minding her volume. “Why did Sucy saying that get to you so bad?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ugh….” So much for changing the subject. “Because why the hell wouldn’t it? She was basically saying me and here were doomed be fuck ups or black sheep or whatever.” The words “black sheep” unsettled Constanze more. Amanda continued. “She explained she just wanted to push us away so we wouldn’t get hurt if something happened to her…. And I’m… like that… too.” Amanda’s voice became a whisper toward the end, but Constanze heard everything. </p><p> </p><p>“She wasn’t pushing me away.” Constanze idly remarked to herself with a good deal of yearning in her voice. </p><p> </p><p>“Well then you really must be somethin’ special to her, because she said that to <em> Lotte </em> of all people too. And she would have said it to Akko to; probably everyone.” Amanda kicked a leaf that had blown onto the porch during their conversation out of boredom and anxiety. “So you better make your move before she gets cold feet and thinks she should distance herself from you too then.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze started to feel tears surge to her eyes, but suppressed them more easily than expected. “She wouldn’t do that…. I… made…” Constanze had to resort to her pen and paper for this. “I already told her how I feel. She said she feels the same. I think.” It was so hastily written as to be near illegible; Constanze then added one bit on. “Don’t know what she meant exactly. Very nervous. Afraid. Not the point of this discussion though. Move on? Please?” The word “please” was underlined no less than four times. </p><p> </p><p>“Jesus wept, you write like my doctor when you’re flush.” Amanda joked half-heartedly. </p><p> </p><p>“You don’t have a doctor.” Constanze wrote at first before speaking up when Amanda tried to retort. “Diana doesn’t count. Focus!”</p><p> </p><p>“Just a joke….” Amanda sighed while wiping her forehead. “Fine though, I’ll drop that for now. We’ll focus on me and that dumb shit, I guess.” She paused to find their former place in that conversation regarding Amanda’s wanton disregard for her own safety. “And yeah, I guess I was pushing Hannah and Barbara away some…. In hindsight, I was runnin’ around acting dumb because I was afraid that if I stuck around them too much… well, I wouldn’t want to leave.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze slapped her own cheeks softly four times and shook her head, allowing her own focus to return and for the blood to recede from her face. “You wanted to keep working.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course. I <em>love </em>what I do. What I’m going to <em>keep</em> <em>doing.</em>” Amanda thumbed at her own chest. “Hell, it’s my time spent roughin’ it out halfway across the world that has me confident we have a chance to beat these sonsabitches.” Her thumbing hand then pointed out toward Luna Isle before it fell back to her side. “I mean, you’re great too, but it’s like I said earlier: I’m in the business of breakin’ shit. Sometimes that shit is a vampire’s skull.” </p><p> </p><p>“And they don’t want you to?”</p><p> </p><p>“They <em> do </em> and <em> don’t </em>.” Amanda hesitated to explain it all, wanting to spend as little time on all of this as possible, for every moment she spent focusing on Hannah and Barbara had her longing more and more to get on with the whole saving-Luna-Nova-thing. “We talked it out. I think we arrived at a good resolution. Let’s leave it at that, fair?”</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, but that’s proof you can change!” Constanze extended one arm toward Amanda as if to say <em> “are you blind?” </em>Her frustration and anger started to surface again as she was forced to exert her voice more and more. Constanze wasn’t very comfortable yelling like this.</p><p> </p><p>“Again—What does me changing have to do with me valuing my own fucking life less or more than anyone elses?” </p><p> </p><p>The hand fell when Constanze started shaking her head. “Everything! It means you can start taking better care of yourself. I don’t know why Sucy feels she can’t change, or what exactly made her say that to you, but you <em> can </em> change. Stop denying it.” She stood up then, casting aside the pen and paper to the floor out of absent minded emotion. “You do a lot for others; always. It’s time you lived for yourself <em> and </em> for them. You’re a good person Amanda. You’re life matters. Start acting like it.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda felt something snap in her head. She had danced around the heart of this problem enough. “Well go tell my fucking family that.” Her brain could hold it now more; she had to let loose. “You think I just started acting like a hopeless little shit for no reason? You think young-me thought I had a future worth living for? Here’s the answer: Fuck no!” Amanda was viper-like with the venom in her words; it actually had Constanze recoiling, stepping back in surprise.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze didn’t even know how to respond to that. She felt a certain kinship to Amanda’s woes of course, but the details were left out in favor of explicatives and rage. Constanze felt a kinship to that rage too; it was unrestrained, untapped, and boiling hot. She couldn’t even mount a proper response in the face of Amanda’s diatribe. “Amanda.” She tried to interject as to try and calm her friend down, but was spoken over, which only annoyed Constanze further. </p><p> </p><p> “That was after years of just… god, everything! I finally got to be a person at school, so yeah, I was a screw up. A stupid little dropout delinquent, but you can thank the sick fucks who raised me for that little quirk!” Amanda started pacing back and forth with a one track mind and a litany more of things to rant about. </p><p> </p><p>“Amanda!” Constanze tried again, in vain, to get Amanda’s attention.</p><p> </p><p>“And everyone wonders why I don’t care about living past thirty half of the time! That’s what happens when you get raised to think all your worth comes with a stupid ass dollar sign attached! I hated everything I was doing….” Amanda held her head in both hands. Her pacing became more aggressive and heavy-footed. “It was all just… pointless! It wasn’t <em> me </em> , <em> I wasn’t me </em> !” She stopped mid stride to look at Constanze and press her hands against her own breasts at the end of that last statement. Then she started pacing again, just as quickly as before. “Parents just… damnit, they just use their kids half the time like they're a goddamn <em> asset </em> and not, like, <em> a person </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze felt dizzy from all of the information being dumped on her. She wanted to help, she could sense that they would be able to talk things out, but Amanda was just too focused on venting to hear much of anything. <em> “Has Amanda been holding this back all this time?” </em>She thought.</p><p> </p><p> “This is why I don’t understand your problem, Conz.” Amanda was about to make a <em>grave error</em>, but could not recognize it. Constanze felt a heaviness in her gut and a heat in her lungs. “Your folks treated <em>you</em> like dog shit and yet you’re suddenly feeling like you owe them anything.” Amanda failed to notice Constanzre’s expression change, or her trembling hands now formed into fists. “Dead or not, whatever, we gotta kill those vampire bastards anyway. But what did your parents do to earn <em>your</em> love, Conz?! Why the <em>fuck</em> are <em>you </em>trying so hard for <em>them</em> when, as far as I know, <em>they</em> <em>never</em> <em>did anything for you</em>!” </p><p> </p><p>“Amanda?” Constanze plainly asked..</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Amanda finally responded and turned on her heel to look at Constanze, but never got the chance. Everything went dark for about thirty seconds and her ears were ringing. The wood of the porch was cold, but her face felt a bit warmer, especially around the nose. Then the pain kicked in and Amanda was groaning. <em> “Ffffuuuck!” </em>She hissed out while holding her right hand over her now bruised nose; the copper taste of blood was distinct on her lips. She’d lay there for a minute or two at least before Ms. Gibson found her. In the distance, Constanze was walking on down to the shore with a thunderous fury to accompany every step.  </p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>An hour passed. Maybe more. Constanze didn’t care. She’d been sitting on the same jetty ever since she arrived down at the beach. Her right hand was still ever so slightly sore from the right hook she’d sent Amanda’s way. It trembled like a volcano after an eruption; her whole body occasionally shook in tune with that wrathful fist.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze didn’t want to punch Amanda. Constanze <em> never </em> wanted to punch Amanda. But, <em> “She deserved it.” </em> she was not in the most right of minds. The waves of high tide roared in and occasionally splashed Constanze. Her navy coat was starting to get a bit damp, but every time it got too wet Constanze would grunt a spell that dried her out near instantly. She was like a tiny little sun on the beach, though all of her heat had turned inward. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Why the fuck are you trying so hard for them when, as far as I know, they never did anything for you!” </em> Amanda’s recent words replayed over and over again; that latter portion of the diatribe especially, as it was what had set Constanze off so furiously. </p><p> </p><p>“Because you didn’t know.” Constanze viciously murmured to herself, as if speaking to Amanda. “You didn’t know that they were changing.” The last email she would ever receive from them detailed as much…. But was it true? Constanze <em> couldn’t </em> know. That’s what made her so incomprehensibly angry about all of this! She <em> knew </em> that her parents may have been roping her in again with another of their half-truths or pithy attempts at making amends. But she also <em> knew </em> that they loved her; they were capable of doing good, and they no doubt wanted to most of the time. Life however, always found a way to muck up their plans and have them make fools and liars of themselves.</p><p> </p><p>Addiction wasn’t easy to combat, her father could attest to that. And her mother had never known someone who she could talk to, that wasn’t her husband, about her deep depression and problems of life and marriage. They were all very normal problems that countless families faced, but that didn’t make any of it a joke or trivial to manage. Constanze, as an adult, knew that, but she also knew that was no excuse for their continued failures to do anything about it. <em> “Maybe I should have helped.” </em> She wasn’t sure how she could have helped, given that she only really gained insight into any of this around the age of seventeen or eighteen. It didn’t make sense to her for a child to be entrusted with the emotional well being of their parents. <em> “Wouldn’t have done any good.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>“Ahoy there!” An unquestionably chipper voice sounded from behind and away from the jetty. Constanze turned to see a portly man in a scally cap hauling a fishing rod and tackle box in either hand. “You doin’ alright, lass?”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze was pulled from her spiraling thoughts for a moment; she had to respond naturally to strangers. They weren’t involved in this after all, and she didn’t want to really speak to any of them. She simply gave a thumbs up as a sign of her “alrightness.” </p><p> </p><p>“Ye sure? Water’s cold!” Benjamin turned his head out down the beach before looking back to Constanze with a knowing smile. “But you already knew that!” As if summoned, a  wave then crashed against Constanze. It wasn’t strong enough to knock her off of her perch, thankfully, but it was certainly surprising given she had been distracted by Benjamin. She flopped and flailed her arms while he heartily laughed. “Need a blanket?” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze spat water and gave Benjamin the dirtiest stink-eye she could while magically drying herself again. “No!” She called back. </p><p> </p><p>“Fair ‘nough!” Benjamin stepped in place a few times to adjust his weight and haul. “Need someone to chat to? I know I always come down here when I’m in a bad mood!” Constanze furiously shook her head in the negative and gave a thumbs down. Benjamin seemingly ignored it while looking up quizzically. “Well, I come down here when I’m in any mood, now that I think about it!” Why was he shouting if he was talking to himself? Never question the mannerisms of mysterious fishermen. </p><p> </p><p>“Who are you anyway!?” Constanze whined, having run out of patience for just about anything and everything. “What do you want!?”</p><p> </p><p>“Benjamin’s the name! Met yer friend earlier! You were havin’ a bit of a snooze, but you’re looking better now! Good to see it.” </p><p> </p><p>“Second question!” Constanze demanded the answer so she could be done with this man; part of her just wanted to magically zipper his mouth shut for an hour so she could have some peace. </p><p> </p><p>“Eh? Oh, nothing really! Just passin’ on by!” He lifted his rod-holding-hand to adjust his scally cap. “Thought I’d let you know that you’re runnin’ with good company is all!” Constanze was puzzled with every explanation Benjamin gave, and her questioning expression silently bade he continue. “I could tell! Just by how she was carrying yah, warming yah up.” He jostled his rod and tackle box one more time before giving a nod. “Good friend that! Keep ‘er close! She really cares for yah.” Constanze pulled back and looked off into space, more confused than ever. Did Amanda send him to try and help smooth things over?</p><p> </p><p><em> “Unlikely.” </em> Constanze thought. <em> “Not her style.” </em>And style was about forty percent of what helped guide Amanda’s action, by Constanzes’ calculations at least. Before she could ask Benjamin if that was why he was here, he was already walking off, whistling a jaunty tune. Constanze sighed wearily. She looked back to the sea, finding the choppy waters and blackened sky in the distance to match her own turmoil-ridden thoughts. Her eyes lingered on nothing and everything at once. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Why did I do that?” </em> She asked herself mournfully as her clenched and reddened fist was raised in front of her. She dropped it a moment afterward, it unfurled and fell flat against her right knee. <em> “Why the fuck did I do that?” </em> She knew very much why, but hated the answer. Constanze was an <em> angry person </em>. She had come to accept this facet of her, much like how Amanda had accepted her recklessness, and Sucy her strangeness. This rage however was unprecedented; it was wrong, everything felt wrong. She got mad over people violating her space, messing with her stuff, making fun of her, and she always fought back against those things with a harsh glare and maybe a bit of gun-waving, but she never outright struck anyone or felt the need to actually hurt another. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze had changed, or at least, she wasn’t acting like herself. The realization stung like a wasp on her brain, for she thought she finally understood why Sucy wanted her to remember their promise. Her face fell into both hands as she leaned over in defeat. Her fingers became rigid, curled, and hard against her forehead, as though she were about to claw at her own face. Beneath that, her eyes were shut tight and her breathing became labored. <em> “What the hell happened to me?” </em> Tragedy had a fickle way of hurting those on the periphery. Its tendrils were like the roots of an invasive and poisonous weed. They snaked through all the world, rippling out like a rogue wave, striking only at those unfortunate enough to be caught by it in the ways they least expected. <em> “Amanda was right. I would have done something stupid.” </em>The harrowing aftershocks of vengeful fury that came from the recognition of Nikolai empowered her no more. Now she was afraid of them; afraid of her own emotions.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze couldn’t bring herself to make amends though, not easily. She could barely even reckon with her rage for those who rightly deserved it let alone herself now, so handling her anger meant for Amanda was out of the question. She just wanted to be held, to escape the dark clouds that choked her off from reason and kindness. All she had though was the wind from off shore and the cold waters that lapped at her legs and feet. She’d remain there for some time, petrified, wishing desperately for Amanda to come find her. Constanze needed to make amends and set their relationship straight; she knew they could be so much more than just former roommates. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p><em> Thirty minutes prior…. </em> </p><p> </p><p>“It sounds like she’s very important to you.” Ms. Gibson, or Winnie, as she preferred, said therapeutically. The kitchen was quiet save for her scrubbing of some pots and plates, kitted out with big, yellow rubber gloves and all. </p><p> </p><p>“She is.” Amanda nasally replied as she stuck one last piece of tissue paper up her left nostril. “Hyehh….” Amanda shuddered as she fought off the knee jerk reaction to sneeze. “Didn’t know she had an arm like a freakin’ cannon though.” </p><p> </p><p>Winnie chuckled. “You’re taking it pretty well for a girl who nearly got her schnoz broken.” Her accent was much similar to her brother. Both of them had a similar body shape as well, having a good bit of meat on their bones. She wore a stretched pair of jeans with a gardening apron, that carried a few used tools meant for tending to plants. She was always keeping herself busy to make the house and surrounding neighborhood as prim and pristine as could be, and the neighbors loved her for it. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah well,” Amanda tapped her wand to her nose one final time to subdue the swelling. “It didn’t actually get broken, and… I was… kinda….” The purple coloring would take some time to subside, but at least the worst of the pain had gone. “I was being a jackass.” She set the wand aside with a sigh. <em> “You’re always being a jackass.” </em>She scolded herself in thoughtful silence. </p><p> </p><p>Winnie smiled to herself as she looked down at the reflection in the decoratively silver platter she’d just finished cleaning. It wasn’t actually silver, just made to shine that way. “I heard some of what you were goin’ on about…. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, buuuut…” Winnie held the reflection up to catch sight of the sullenly sat Amanda. “Maybe you’d be willing to hear an old lady out. I think I can help.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda shook her head. “You don’t gotta do that. You’re doin’ us tons of favors already. I mean, come on, two weeks stay for no pay?” She smiled gratefully for a time before her frown returned. “And you're not <em> that </em> old.” Ms. Gibson must have only been in her mid forties. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, thank you, but d’ya think we’d just leave some poor folks washed up on the beach without a place to go? What kinda people would we be if we did that?” Winnie scoffed, not with any sort of pride or self importance levied at Amanda, but with shock; she could not imagine being so cruel. </p><p> </p><p>“Guess not.” Amanda opened up her posture, arms held out to either side in a welcoming manner as she leaned back in the chair. “I mean, considering you let us stay…. Though… that fisherman guy.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ben?” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda nodded slowly as she put her arms behind her head and turned her head up to the ceiling to help staunch the bleeding in her nose. “Yeah. That guy. He really your brother?”</p><p> </p><p>Winnie put a hand to her heart and laughed briefly as she turned about. “Of course! Knew the crazy eyed koot since he was a little baby! Three years younger he is.” Her other hand set aside the silver platter on the kitchen counter top before she approached the table and sat down with both hands neatly set before her on the table. “What makes you ask?”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s… really….” Amanda’s chin rolled from left to right and she pursed her lips in search of the nicest way to say that Benjamin was—</p><p> </p><p>“A right crazy bastard?” Winnie playfully winked at Amanda. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah! That!” Amanda was thinking the exact same thing. “Uhh, I mean, no offense, he just kinda, well, sat there? And didn’t do anything to help at first.”</p><p> </p><p>Winnie shook her head in bewilderment, her eyes gone wide. “Ohh! He was probably too busy trying to catch God knows what out there on the beach wasn’t he?” Amanda’s half smiling nod confirmed Winnie’s suspicion. “He’s gonna get a thwapping for that!” She chuffed. “Always him and his fishing!” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda laughed at her comically angry reaction. “Oi, oi, he’s alright…. Don’t go too hard on him. He got my bike up here after all.” Amanda’s eyes shifted from left to right in confusion as she brought her head level to look at Winnie. “Some… how?” He really was a strange man. “Say, how the hell did he come across a bewitched broom?” </p><p> </p><p>Winnie raised her right hand and waved lazily. “Oh I wouldn’t doubt he has the holy grail stashed away somewhere in his piles of junk. You can barely open his garage, and God help you if you go into his fishing shack. I swear it gets <em> bigger </em> every time I go down there.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda chuckled somewhat nervously and adjusted her collar. “Haha… yeah, I mean, who would steal the holy grail except someone crazy like him, right?” That experience at least allowed Amanda to realize just how <em> killer </em> she looked in a suit with her hair done back like that. And it just so happened to awaken her affinity for swords. And that outfit ended up getting photographed and… <em> “Wow. Didn’t realize just how much of this shit started because I tried to steal the holy-fucking-grail.” </em> </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, he probably bought it on e-bay or something like that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Huh?” Amanda snapped back to reality, having gotten briefly lost in nostalgia. “N-Nevermind, you said his <em> shack </em> gets <em> bigger </em>? You mean like, exterior, right? Because that thing looked pretty tiny.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’d be surprised. There’s a full master bedroom, trophy room, at least five junk rooms, or, sorry, ‘storage rooms,’ and oh I could go on.” Winnie shook her head. Just thinking about the inside of that place had her head spinning. </p><p> </p><p>“So is he like, a witch?”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe.” Winnie shrugged, appearing as unsure as was humanly possible. “Never can get much of a straight answer out of him. About most things really. The important stuff sure, he tells me all about that, but the personal little details? Like where he got something from, where he was for a whole two months, why he needs a shovel at three o'clock when he showed up to my door without pants, you know. That kind of stuff.” Somehow, all of that just seemed like normal stuff to Winnie. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda was beyond reasoning any of that out and simply laughed it off. She wagged a finger at Winnie. “You… you’ve got a weird sense of humor Ms. G.” </p><p> </p><p>“Humor? It’s terrible! Three in the bloody morning I tell you! No pants, dirt on his face, asking for a shovel! And he never even returned it!” Winnie held up both hands flatly and closed her eyes. “I stopped asking about his business after that. No sir, not getting involved in that messy nonsense.” She would speak no more of her eccentric brother, though she clearly loved him as any good sibling might. “Though my offer still stands. I don’t want to intrude on all of your personal matters of course, but I’ve had my fair share of arguments with close friends and family…. You two aren’t family, are you?” </p><p> </p><p>“Eh?” Amanda was caught off guard. She bought time to come up with an answer to an otherwise easy question by testing her tissue-stuffed nose; she was still bleeding a bit, so she put them back in. “Uhh, no, we ain’t related. I’m from Texas. She’s German.” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, well, I mean, but are you family?” The question surprised Amanda more, so Winnie clarified. “I never did say that Ben and I had the same mother. Family’s family though.” </p><p> </p><p>“Can’t argue there.” Amanda rubbed the back of her head. She had felt that way about Constanze, that maybe they could be family; <em> sisters </em> . <em> “I really fucked it up this time…. God, I feel like I say that every other week.” </em>She returned the scratching head to rest her face against it sideways with her elbow on the table. She stared thoughtfully at Winnie who waited patiently for a response. In time, it came; Amanda didn’t hold back before, and that got her into this mess. Maybe not holding back more, but in a less angry way, would fix it. “We ain’t family, but damn do I wish I had her for a sister.”</p><p> </p><p>“Based on what I heard, I can’t imagine you’re very fond of your birth family?” Winnie treated the subject with as much care as she could; she had a counselor's voice. </p><p> </p><p>“They say hate’s a strong word, but oh yeah, I hate ‘em.” Amanda braced herself for yet another middle aged woman to tell her the ‘value of the family dynamic,’ or some other metaphysical nonsense about the ‘unbreakable bonds between mother and child.’ </p><p> </p><p>“Well, if you feel that strongly, then you’re probably right to hate ‘em.” Winnie nodded confidently in agreement. </p><p> </p><p>“Heh.” Amanda smiled. “Finally, a stranger who can trust me on that.” It felt so nice to be heard and validated without needing to provide a dissertational essay on her bad home life. </p><p> </p><p>“The way you were yelling came from the heart. Could hear it in your voice. People don’t get ruffled up like that, all genuine like, unless they mean it…. And well, I got no reason to doubt you. Ben said you’ve got a good head on your shoulders, seemed alright, and if you're good enough to win him over, you're good enough to win me over.” Winnie put her hands to her lap and smiled more cheerily.</p><p> </p><p>“Really don’t know how he came to trust me, but sure.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, he just knows.”</p><p> </p><p>“He just knows?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mhmm. He’s got a real good judgement of character…. Usually. The postman he was afraid of turned out <em> not </em> to be a changeling, to no one’s surprise.” She rolled her eyes at another of her brothers’ insane escapades. </p><p> </p><p>“Got it.” Amanda sighed, deciding it was best to not ask anymore questions surrounding Benjamin. She shifted back to the prospect of mending the, hopefully very temporary, bridge between herself and Constanze. “But yeah, I wish we were on better terms. I mean, we are, usually, and I look at her and all my close friends already like they’re family. No one else besides them really talks to me or, hell, even looks at me like they do. Do you know what I mean?” Amanda brought her hands together and closed one of her eyes as she searched for the right words. “It’s like, a warm…. God I don’t wanna say ‘warm, fuzzy feeling,’ but they make me feel good in ways other people just can’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“Safe?” Winnie intuited. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda snapped her fingers and pointed to her host, “Bingo.” then held her chin with that same hand. “And I want them to feel the same way about me, obviously.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I can safely say that siblings <em> definitely </em> fight. It’s not uncommon or… wrong? It’s not good to fight, don’t get me wrong, but it doesn’t make them anything less than a sibling.” Where Winnies’ words may have been self-evident to anyone with a “normal” sibling to sibling relationship, Amanda had been deprived of anything normal in terms of her family. </p><p> </p><p>“I guess….” Amanda sighed again. “I… kinda meant what I said though, is the problem. I definitely meant what I said about my folks; folk those people. But about Conzs’ parents? I heard some stuff, they didn’t seem like the best of people, but she’s real torn up over them, so they must mean <em> something </em> to her.” </p><p> </p><p>“If it’s any help, I think you should go and tell her that.”</p><p> </p><p>“What? No way—” Amanda thought on it more. <em> “Being too honest… yeah… maybe that is what gets me outta this.” </em>She pressed Winnie further for clarification. “I’ll… try and talk to her about how I feel, but about her parents, is it really a good idea to just repeat what got me decked?”</p><p> </p><p>Winnie chortled and shook her head. “Oh, heavens no. But you should hear her out. You clearly got a lot of bad blood to deal with; maybe if you heard about hers first, she’d be willing to hear your concerns. No one likes a know it all suggestin’ things they don’t know enough about. It’s all about framing and approach.”</p><p> </p><p>“Makes sense.” It was common sense even. Sometimes people just needed to be reminded of the simpler solutions to get through problems that seemed more complex. Amanda nodded. “I’ll do that. After I think through what I’m gonna say…. Don’t wanna slip up this time and get punched again.” Even if she still believed she deserved it. Nevertheless, Amanda smiled cheekily. “Didn’t think we’d get caught up trying to solve all this weird family shit when our friends are all—” She thought better of explaining the insane situation across the channel and cleared her throat. “Let’s just say we got asses to kick.”</p><p> </p><p>“Vampires, right?” Winnie, again, seemed all too nonchalant about mentioning such a thing. “Sorry, I overheard that part from earlier.” She and Amanda then laughed quietly. “If I had any spare garlic to give, I’d hand it right over, but I can hardly stand the stuff.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda stood up, feeling reinvigorated in mood, spirit, and mind. “I wish it was that easy. Jas would’a had those freaks running with how easy she transforms food.” She extended a hand out to Winnie who shook it gladly. “Thanks for that.”</p><p> </p><p>“It was nothing! I owe witches like you a whole heap of favors.” Winnie sighed nostalgically as she looked off to the space beside Amanda. “All the way back with my grandfather; a healer came and cured him right quick of just about everything! He could even remember better after that little house call. And ever since, witches have always been there for folks like me…. Terrible how they talk about you lot on the tele.” She tutted sadly at that last statement. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda retracted her hand to her hip. “So I’ve heard.” She puffed her cheek up for a moment as she considered some of the less grateful reactions she’d run into along her travels. Magic was scary to a lot of people, even after Amanda tried to show them how beneficial it was. She had little insight into the greater political unrest, but she knew that people like her weren’t exactly safe to walk the world freely. Luckily, she never cared much for legality. “Talking heads can go and eat their hearts out; we’ll keep doing what we always have: Keepin’ people safe, fixing all the weird problems in the world, and looking badass as hell while doing it.” Amanda thumbed to herself while giving off one of those signature grins; she oozed cocksure confidence. “You’ve got the Amanda-O'Neill-Guarantee on that.” </p><p> </p><p>Winnie laughed genuinely, but clearly appreciated the sentiment. “I’ve got no doubt you will, Amanda. But run along now, I can’t imagine your friend is doing so well.” </p><p> </p><p>“Course.” Amanda gave a two fingered salute before hurrying out the door while being given a farewell-wave from Winnie. “Thanks again!” Away Amanda went, out into the chilly winter air to be met with the immediate sight of the distant storm clouds that raged around Luna Isle. <em> “Alright Conz.” </em> She put her best game face on and went looking, thinking up what to say all the while. <em> “Let’s work this out. We got grudges to settle and witches to save.” </em> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>The wind never really let up, and neither did the ocean waves. Constanze was forced more inland, but remained on the beach. She had resorted to walking about aimlessly, as her nervous self couldn’t stand to sit still anymore. <em> “We’re wasting time.” </em> She thought to herself scornfully. <em> “Luna Nova’s under attack and we’re….” </em> She sighed, having gone through this line of thinking already; she knew its flaws. <em> “But if we don’t solve this now then it’s just going to cause us problems later.” </em>Constanze was all too aware of how important a clear and focused mind was when it came to completing any daunting task. </p><p> </p><p>She had worked for a day or two without ceasing on a way for them to break out of the dome, and throughout that process she found herself plagued by doubts and fears and sorrows that permeated almost every waking moment. Constanze suspected that, had she gotten the time or otherwise focused on working through her recent grief, they may have been able to save more witches than just the two of them; saved felt like the wrong word though.</p><p> </p><p> They were lost, not geographically, but without direction. All but one of their friends were trapped, and Lotte was unreachable; Constanze and Amanda lacked the skill in the projection and communicative schools of magic to be able to reach out to her on their own without the aid of a crystal ball, and their phones were ruined by sea-water. Maybe they’d be able to remember Lotte’s house or cell phone number, but little details like that, no matter how important they were now, seemed so vexedly forgettable. </p><p> </p><p>And they were so, so, <em> so </em> very isolated. They knew no witches, covens, arcane organizations, or anything of the sort that could help them, and the mundane governments of the world would sink the island before saving it. Constanze felt a particularly cold chill run up her spin as she imagined the vastness of the world. Every step she took felt like it was one on a desolate and lonely road; how she wished she could face Amanda and set things right. She felt paper though, crumpled paper, deep in her coat pockets. She came to a slow pause, thinking she just left a receipt in there, but found the parchment feeling much too old. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze slowly pulled out the scraps to find it was the two pieces of lore she had taken from deep in the sanctum of The Nine. <em> “But I didn’t….” </em> That cold wind came again, like a winter gale through the sleeping forests. She shuddered and audibly hissed at how deep that chill cut. Her gloved fingers tensed around the edges of the paper she held before her. It was that half torn parchment, a script, likely meant to be read by some old town crier; something about an Order of The Balefire. Beneath that, the cryptic poem that Vaal had given to her remained mostly inscrutable as it did days prior. Constanze thought on the lattermost document more intently and she managed to put meaning to some of it, at least, though she was unsure if it was the intended reading. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Never lose your chains. That’s what she warned me about.” </em> Constanze closed her eyes and breathed mindfully as to focus her otherwise anger and fear addled mind. <em> “Sufferers have no chains…. That’s what she made it sound like.” </em> Those wretched and poor peoples of the world and beyond, writhing in the deepest pit. <em> “No one to turn to.” </em> The chains had to be metaphorical. <em> “No ties to anyone…. The ties that bind.” </em> Some of Vaal’s rambling and poetry started to make sense now. In a way, Constanze found it quite a pertinent warning about the “modern” world and the fragmented nature of witch-kind. <em> “No allies to gather. We’re all alone.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>She stuffed the papers back into her pocket, not bothering to even question where they came from anymore. Before Constanze could fall into a truly depressive state, faced with a world that was oblivious and mostly unsympathetic to their problems, the voice of a dear friend graced her ears. “Oi! Conz!” Amanda was approaching from down the shore the way Constanze had come in a messy jog; the wet sand didn’t help. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze spun about, hopefully so, but with a heavy deal of apprehension and regret. “Amanda?” She asked herself aloud accidentally. The name of her friend came out like a relief on her spirit. Perhaps she was being far too melodramatic, but she thought that punch might’ve driven a hard stake in between the two of them. Constanze did have a tendency to catastrophize. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda slowed her pace when Constanze took note of her, and her determined exterior softened somewhat at seeing Constanze’s reddened face, made as such from the harsh winds and self-embarrassment over having lost her temper in such an egregious way. When the two of them were just fifteen feet apart, Amanda spoke up. “Conz, you alright? I went looking all over for you.” </p><p> </p><p>“Amanda….” Constanze touched her own nose as she more clearly saw the partly black and blue spots and bandages that marked Amanda’s own. </p><p> </p><p>“What?” Amanda asked somewhat obliviously at first before she realized. “A-Ah, yeah, that. I’m fine, really.” Amanda flicked her nose as to show she felt no pain in it, and that the bruises were cosmetic and the bandages just had some healing ointment on them to help with the discoloration. All that gesture did though was make Constanze feel sick as she looked away. “Oi! I said it was fine! I’m in the business of breaking shit, but do you really think I survived this long doing what I do without knowing how to fix a bruised nose?” Amanda tried to make light of the situation. She thought that might help calm Constanzes’ nerves.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought I… broke it.” Constanze sheepishly admitted while clutching her hands together close to her chest. </p><p> </p><p>“You’ve got one helluva cannon for an arm, Conz.” Amanda continued to joke, smiling in hopes to spread that lightheartedness to her friend. “But you ain’t no Rocky.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze felt her expression soften just enough so that she could form a faded smile. “Why do you act like I saw that movie?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well clearly you <em> heard </em> of it, otherwise you’d ask who the hell Rocky is.” Amanda chuckled. </p><p> </p><p>“Not a fan. Not my type.” Constanze enjoyed the little distraction from the greater problems; it helped ease her tenseness and bring her back into some form of normalcy, albeit slowly. </p><p> </p><p>“Not enough giant robots and big nuclear lizards?” Amanda joked as though nothing was wrong in the world. </p><p> </p><p>“Definitely not enough.” Constanze looked away from Amanda, still gripped by fear and regret. </p><p> </p><p>“Ahhh….” Amanda sighed effortlessly. “Let’s head on back. It’s cold as hell out here, and we might need a while to fix things.” They way it was phrased didn’t have Amanda making it sound like that long time needed to sort out their problems was a bad thing; quite the opposite. It would take as long as it took, no more, no less. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze felt that welcoming air from Amanda immediately. It helped a bit to warm her chilly heart, though actual indoor heating sounded much needed right now. “Mmmm.” Constanze nodded in agreement and approached. </p><p> </p><p>“Ey Conz?” Amanda asked while moving to stand beside her approaching friend. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmm?” </p><p> </p><p>“Mind if I…?” Amanda asked while very slowly putting an arm around Constanzes’ shoulders. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze froze up at first but her shoulders dropped soon after. “N-No. Go ahead.” They stood there awkwardly for a moment more while Amanda squeezed Constanze once, which had her friend deciding to make it a full on hug instead. “I’m sorry.” She muffledly said, her head buried in Amanda’s jacket. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s alright Conz.” Amanda ensured with a slow rub on her friend’s back. “Happens to the best of us…. Gotta let it out sometime.” Amanda looked up from her smaller companion out to the beach. “Gotta let it out sometime….” She repeated, regretting her own verbal outburst as much as Constanze regretted her physical one. They’d be on their way back after a minute more of comforting each other. Small apologies like that were great, but they needed to dig down and really dredge out all of the rotten stuff that had otherwise interfered with their mission. There were better places to have a heart to heart than a cold, bleakly skied, and wet English beach though. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>It was starting to get later in the day. The sky was near pitch now, but it was only five hours past noon. A shower on both of their parts and some lovingly made meals from Ms. Gibson gave Constanze and Amanda both a much needed reset on their minds, hearts, and bodies. They agreed to reconvene after that, since the hour they spent a part before was mostly just spent sulking or dealing with an injury respectively. </p><p> </p><p>Nothing quite satisfied the senses like a perfectly hot shower, and Constanze found her meal to be particularly filling. She was in that childish room again, the one she had woken up in earlier that day, though the youthful aspects of it didn’t bother her much anymore. She could accept the free lodgings for what they were: Gifts from strangers who still had a heart amidst truly cruel times. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze felt calmer now, even if that sour feeling in her gut remained. She was sat on the bed, wearing plain jeans and a white T-shirt, occupying her time with thoughts about where to go from here. <em> “When this is all done we need to get moving.” </em> She thought to herself. <em> “No idea how long the Hologarium will hold. Could be impenetrable.” </em> That seemed to be quite the snag in their plan; how would they undo the time-stop? <em> “Even if we beat them we need to reverse that. Took beating a whole bunch of weird monsters and time travelling last time, but this is different.” </em> Hopefully “different” meant easier this time around. <em> “Need to fix that bike. FIgure out where we’re headed. Nice town. Reminds me of Ludinghal.” </em> She hesitated to call that ruined place home, but it had that air about it. <em> “Can’t stay. Too safe. No covens around, no witches to recruit. Going to need to try and get to Lotte; maybe she or her mother knows friends we can get help from.” </em></p><p> </p><p>Then an expected knock on the door came, interrupting Constanze’s train of thought. “Mmm!” She grunted in approval, bidding the knocker to enter. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda opened the door and remained in the doorway with her hand on the knob. “We good to talk now?” She was similarly in simple jeans, but wore a red sleeveless shirt instead. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze nodded. “Yeah. We’ve taken enough time.” She didn’t want to rush this, as they both clearly needed the time and space to vent and bond properly, but they never could just forget the greater context; the pressure and weight of a whole academy resting on their shoulders. “Sit.” She scooched to the side and patted the spot she was formerly sitting at, offering it to Amanda who wasted no time in strolling over and plopping herself down. </p><p> </p><p>“Pretty comfy.” Amanda idly remarked. “Dunno how she keeps the place so nice like this all on her own.”</p><p> </p><p>“Passion.” Constanze said flatly before expanding on it. “When you have a passion for something, it becomes easy. Simple. Not a chore.” Amanda still wasn’t Sucy; she could understand a lot about what Constanze was saying just by watching her body language and interpreting the grunts and hums, but it felt like Sucy could read her mind. </p><p> </p><p>“Explains a lot about you.” Amanda nudged Constanze in the side with a friendly elbow. “Explains a lot about me too, now that I think about it. Most sane people run <em> away </em> from danger.”</p><p> </p><p>“You could run more often.” Constanze said in a reminding fashion.</p><p> </p><p>“Guess we might as well dive right into where we left off then yeah? Well, not <em> right </em> where we were…. You get the point.” Amanda rolled her shoulders and stretched her arms out in preparation. For whatever reason, she felt being limber was helpful to an emotional discussion. “I feel like I can’t run away from, well, anything. Hell even when I was back at the academy.”</p><p> </p><p>“How so?” Constanze preferred this natural transition; she wasn’t otherwise sure where to begin this talk. </p><p> </p><p>“Remember when we went on that field trip with Professor Pisces?” The words “field trip” were being used <em> very </em> generously. Constanze nodded slowly. “Remember when we saw another boat gettin’ attacked by some big ass squid thing?” Again, Constanze nodded, unsure exactly how it tied in. “Well you saw what I did. Didn’t take more than five seconds to start flying off to go help. Made me some nice calamari that night! Y’all were just too chicken-shit to try it.” Amanda laughed, looking back on the memory fondly. </p><p> </p><p>“You were sick all next morning.” Constanze rolled her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“E-Ehhh… maybe I was… maybe I wasn’t.” Amanda’s laughter fell short. “My memory’s <em> not </em> the best.” She just preferred to remember the parts where she looked cool. “Look, the point is, I see people in trouble and I just… feel a pull, you know? I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s like a calling, an instinct.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze returned the friendly elbow gesture. “How humble.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oi, I ain’t trying to say I’m some hero or anything. I’m a wild witch-bitch who doesn’t know when to quit; straight up. But that doesn’t mean I ain’t out here to do good work.” </p><p> </p><p>“Joking.” Constanze forced a smile. “I don’t blame you. Wouldn’t stop my tinkering if I had to choose between life and death. Keeps me going.” She’d calmed down a lot since earlier, but she could already sense that nervousness returning. She looked to her bag of tools with an immediate desire. “Can I…?” </p><p> </p><p>“Eh?” Amanda wasn’t sure what she was asking, but she didn’t mind either way. “Uh, sure.” </p><p> </p><p>“Thanks.” Constanze hurried over to her tool bag and pulled out a wrench and drill. Amanda was only further confused when Constanze came back over and sat back down with them. She then began to fiddle with the knobs and adjustable heads, changing the height of the clamp on the wrench and loosening and tightening the drill-tip. When Constanze caught sight of Amanda’s confusion, she explained. “When I get nervous, I like to fiddle with things.” She looked back down to the tools, sheepishly so. “When Sucy was around, she’d let me hold her hand. Rub hers over my knuckles. Felt nice. This helps me calm down. Directs my energy.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, shit, my bad.” Amanda was genuine in her apology. “Didn’t mean to make yah feel weird. If it helps, I need to move around and I start tapping and stuff like that when I get all scatterbrained.” </p><p> </p><p>“Mmm… I appreciate it.” It wasn’t exactly the same as Constanze’s stimming, nor was it for the same reasons of a deeply rooted anxiety issue, but it’s these kinds of more hidden details that would help them grow closer; it built up a trust that the truest of friends would need, and both of them were very selective in who they informed of their more internal struggles, unlike others in the group. “About the danger thing. And the… and your issue with….” She wasn’t exactly sure how to say this in a very delicate way, so Constanze fell to her instincts and just went with the blunt option. “You don’t really protect your own life very well. You save a lot of others, but who saves you?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda had collected herself plenty over the course of that day. They’d tried to talk on this subject before, and where everyone else who tried just upset her, Amanda had put her foot down in making sure she was stable and not jumping to any overly defensive or dismissive tactics. “Honestly, I don’t know. And yeah, I don’t really think about it much. It just feels weird to worry about myself that much.”</p><p> </p><p>“You could worry about yourself some though.” </p><p> </p><p>“Can’t argue there.” She had to recognize the problem before she fixed it. “It never seemed like something I’d have to worry about.” It was perhaps a cop out response, but mostly true. “Never thought death would get as close as it has.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze pressed further and leaned in. “How? We went to space. To fight a possessed nuke.”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Amanda nervously laughed to offset her otherwise vulnerable veneer. “Sure as hell did! And we won! And we beat everything else that came before and after that, didn’t we?” </p><p> </p><p>“Except the trauma. Clearly.” Constanze said flatly at first, but found herself starting to chuckle a moment after. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda started chuckling too. “Hehe… you’re right…. We beat a huge a fuckin’ nuke possessed by digital ghosts.” That was hardly the correct way to describe the <em> Noir Rod </em>, but Amanda wasn’t a techno-witch like Constanze. “And here we are, hurt as hell over some messed up childhoods.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze risked sounding like the biggest nerd in existence. “Secret final boss: Depression.” And she succeeded, but she and Amanda were both laughing now.</p><p> </p><p> “Aahhhh….” They both settled back into a more calm state; their soft smiles, forced or otherwise, faded. “We’re a fucked up bunch aren’t we, eh Conz?” </p><p> </p><p>“Mhm.” Constanze grunted in agreement as she looked to her own lap. The only sounds that filled those silent seconds then came from Constanze simming with her tools. “We can fix that.” She continued. “Ourselves, I mean.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is that what this is? Us fixing ourselves?”</p><p> </p><p>“Us fixing ourselves <em> with each other. </em>” Constanze clarified. “If we could have done it alone we would have.” </p><p> </p><p>“Best get to the heart of our troubles then.” Amanda hesitated to speak further, her lips held tight as she awaited Constanze's reaction to her statement. When she saw Constanze slow down in her stimming to nod firmly in agreement Amanda returned it. “We both had pretty shit families. Agreed?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmm.” Constanze hummed as though she wasn’t one hundred percent sure. “Mostly. Mine was… difficult.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, how do we wanna do this? Me or you first?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll go first.” Constanze was certain about that. She felt her problems were the most detrimental to the mission; that anger, that volcanic fury in her tiny body, it could cost them everything if she let it guide her actions instead of her reason and heart. “It started at the beginning of primary school.”</p><p> </p><p>“Primary…?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mein gott Amanda. Elementary school.” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh.”</p><p> </p><p>“Americans…. Anyways.” Before Constanze continued, she looked to the nearby night stand and pulled over a pen and paper. She didn’t need them immediately, but she thought she might. “They demanded a lot from me. Anything less than a perfect score was something for them to complain about. Typical helicopter parents.” </p><p> </p><p>“Sounds about right.” Amanda wiped her arm by her nose and sniffled idly. “Not that simple I imagine?”</p><p> </p><p>“I wish.” Constanze sighed. “Extracurriculars at age seven. If I didn’t do those, and do well, I could only go to my room and sleep. No friends, no making friends, and no playing with anything. On weekends my father taught me about smithing. Family trade.”</p><p> </p><p>“Uhh… at seven?” </p><p> </p><p>“The weekend training started at five.”</p><p> </p><p>“Uhhh…. Yikes.” Amanda really didn’t know how to even visualize that. “Did he like… make you work?”</p><p> </p><p>“Luckily not. Lots of showing me what tools did…. It was actually really cool.” Constanze smiled, strangely enough. “Passion.” She explained. “Works even with kids. I found what I liked and I stuck to it.” </p><p> </p><p>“Still, to <em> make </em> you do that? It’s one thing if you came to them, you’re making it sound like this was fuckin’ boot camp.” Amanda shifted in her spot to bring her legs up onto the bed. She was sitting longways now with her hands held back to hold her up. </p><p> </p><p>“Might as well have been.” Constanze kept her focus evenly split between minding her tools and minding her words. She was still very calm, but without the cozy environment, stimming, and Amanda’s admittedly comforting presence, she would hardly be able to get into these details. “Yelling. Lots of yelling. Not just at me. They yelled a lot at each other too. I never really got used to it.” </p><p> </p><p>“Guess that’s why you hate crowds, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Probably.” Constanze had a pretty good idea of why she disliked such close proximity to others and nosy areas filled with chatter, but putting it in words with another person present just made it all make more sense; she didn’t feel crazy or weird about it when she confided in someone she trusted. “Reminds me of all those nights. I’d want to stay at school because it felt safer. Teachers didn’t yell at me there.” And just before her hometown went up in flame, she wanted to stay at Luna Nova. <em> “That never changed.” </em> Not the yelling part, at least at Luna Nova, as Constanze was one of the biggest trouble makers, but she had fun at least. “I never knew what they wanted out of me. More I guess. Just more and better improvements. Even if I was top of my class ever since my second year of schooling. Got worse from there.” This is where it started to get harder to talk about. She felt her hands drift from the tools to her pen and paper. </p><p> </p><p>“If you need to write it out, I don’t mind. We got time.” Maybe they didn’t, but Amanda would make time anyway. This was important, and her caring tone made that clear. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmm.” Constanze considered the pen and paper for a short while before she tried to make the words rise from her chest. “Business wasn’t great. We got by, but it put strain on my parents. Marriage stuff. Don’t remember the specifics. Just hid in my room all of the time and worked on my projects and schoolwork. That’s when I accidentally cast a spell.”</p><p> </p><p>“Accidentally?” </p><p> </p><p>“Complicated. Didn’t even know magic was real until… age twelve? I think?” Constanze began to idly sketch out the faces of two persons, one man and one woman. “When I cast the spell, it brought a wooden toy bird I carved to life. Didn’t last long. Loved it though.” She smiled gently. “Told my parents and… well, they didn’t like what they heard. Seemed nervous. Unsure of what to do. Like they’d never seen anything like me before.” </p><p> </p><p>“So you’re <em> not </em> from a witch family?” Amanda didn’t have anything against that. Her family wasn’t a witch family; she got in on cash value alone, even if she did show a great knack for magic and broom riding for someone who was only self-taught. </p><p> </p><p>“I am.” Constanze paused to sketch in some of the finer details of the faces, depicting a middle aged man with quite the “young” looking hairstyle; it was cut short except for at the front where it was spiked up by two inches, forming a slope like shape along his scalp. His face shape was rocky, sharp, and featured a gentlemanly mustache. “Dad had a brother; Uncle Jo. My grandfather before them was a witch, though I only saw him on holidays. Dad didn’t want to learn magic, or maybe he wasn’t very good at it. Uncle Jo never really knew the details. They were always distant.” </p><p> </p><p>“And he was a witch?” Amanda folded her knees close to her chest as she moved forward to be closer beside Constanze. </p><p> </p><p>“Mhm. Him and his wife, Aunt Gertrand. Jo always said Dad never wanted to take the family business; the forge. Wouldn’t tell me what Dad really wanted in life though. Not his place to say. It was only after I cast that spell that my family actually started talking about all of this stuff. I think my Dad wanted me to be raised without magic. Guess I screwed that up for him.” Constanze then drew the details of Aunt Gertrand who appeared to be a bald woman with a boil or two around her chin. She also wore rectangular glasses, but had sparks of youth to her even as she matched her husband in age. Her face was more oval shaped. </p><p> </p><p>“Come on now, it was an accident. You can’t blame yourself for that.” She reached out to rest a hand on Constanze’s shoulder, which calmed her friend further.</p><p> </p><p>“I know. Just felt weird that they’d want to keep it from me. Uncle Jo and Aunt Gertrand were happy though. They told me they were asked to keep quiet about it…. They knew this would happen someday though.” She set aside the pen then and leaned into Amanda, resting her head sideways against her chest as she began to fiddle with the wrench from earlier. “Jo told me that Grandpa wanted Dad to take the forge <em> and </em> learn magic. Was very important he did both. Didn’t happen.” Constanze still never knew why that was so important, though she had a hunch that she’d learn soon; the way Nikolai roared her name, she knew there must have been some part of her family history that was kept secret. “Then Grandpa died earlier than we thought.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shit….” Amanda was getting depressed by osmosis, and she had her own problems to worry about. “You guys cursed or something? No joke.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe.” Constanze shrugged, her smile faded. “Mom and Dad said he died in a car accident during a trip to Hungary. He rarely drove though. Used his broom, even when arthritis made it hard. That’s what Jo and Gertrand told me.” </p><p> </p><p>“Damn, even after your parents knew you could use magic and all that other stuff, they were still making shit up?” Amanda bristled, though she minded her temper; no point in getting too worked up, as it would likely set off Constanze in turn. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know if they were lying, but it didn’t make sense. Never even told me why Grandpa went to Hungary. Don’t think they knew…. No casket at the funeral. No body.” Constanze shook her head. “That’s when Dad started getting drunk all the time. Mom became a shut in. Both of them took a lot of their problems out on me all the way through Hauptschule.” Constanze felt clammy, like her hands weren’t working right as she toyed with the wrench.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda squeezed Constanze’s shoulder. <em> “.... started getting drunk all the time.” </em>She didn’t dare ask any questions on what that entailed. She knew what it was like to be sad, angry, or otherwise upset and drunk. She just hoped she wasn’t as bad as Constanze’s dad was being made out to be. </p><p> </p><p>“My only escape was with Uncle Jo and Aunt Gertrand. They helped me learn magic… taught me all about it until I was fifteen. I practiced on my own and was infusing stuff with magic, and when I showed them my first Stanbot they threw me a party.” Constanze’s hand brushed over the images of her aunt and uncle. “They gave me a huge set of tools and told me all about Luna Nova. Don’t know if either of them went to the academy, but they wanted me to go, and I did too. Took a lot of work but we convinced my Dad and Mom to let me go…. Now we’re here.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda managed to distract herself from that guilty pang related to her drinking habits to speak up. “Not to be rude, but I can’t imagine you were always this quiet.”</p><p> </p><p>“Got quieter every year. Stopped talking entirely at fourteen, except to Jo and Gertrand…. Used pen and paper for that too.” </p><p> </p><p>“Well you’re talking a lot with me, that has to be worth something, right?” Amanda jostled Constanze’s held shoulder playfully, forcing herself to smile and otherwise focus on something positive. </p><p> </p><p>“Worth a lot.” Constanze managed to crack an actual smile despite her dour inclinations. “It’s hard though. Have to force myself most of the time. You and Sucy make it easier….” She turned her head up to look at Amanda from below. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda looked down and found both of their smiles to widen. “Glad to help, though I don’t know what I’m doing right. I mean, I’m the one who pissed you off enough to earn a knock-out.” </p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t deserve that.” Constanze frowned now, even as Amanda continued to smile widely. </p><p> </p><p>“Maybe not, but it’s water under the bridge.” Amanda tried to brush it off much like she did with Hannah.</p><p> </p><p>“No.” Constanze shook her head. “Friends can’t just hit each other like that. I’m sorry. I lost control and it just happened. I won’t lose control anymore.” She said while turning her body around to kneel on the bed and face Amanda. She brought her hands up to grab Amanda’s with a good deal of force, though not painfully. “That’s what has me so… so….” She gripped Amanda’s hands tighter as she lost the words and will to speak. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, hey… it’s alright. Breathe, Conz, breathe.” Amanda urged while adjusting her own posture to the match Constanze’s. Their fingers were interlaced and Constanze was digging her nails into the space between Amanda’s knuckles; she endured it and continued to try and calm Constanze down with gentle, whisper-like words. “We make mistakes and we keep living. That’s the only way to do it. I’ve got no hard no hard feelings, and if you’re having trouble talking about it just write it out.” Amanda offered some pressure in return during the handheld moments to see if that might serve to help calm Constanze. “Just because me and Sucy make it easier doesn’t mean it’s bad for you to do what ya need to.” Amanda was nothing but accommodating. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze slowly eased up on her clutching hands and clenched eyes and did as instructed. She breathed with Amanda, slowly, steadily, and kept a gentle rhythm to every rise and fall of their chests. When a few minutes had passed, Constanze pulled away with ease and propped up the notepad in her lap. “Thank you.” She wrote out shakily at first. With time her handwriting became more natural, more fluid. “I’ve not been myself since Ludinghal got destroyed. You saw me that day. I hated everything and everything. I broke things, hurt myself, didn’t take care of anything. I was a mess.” </p><p> </p><p>“And we were right there with you, all of us! It’s what family does.” Amanda slipped up in saying family over friends and froze up as a result. “I mean, friends, it’s what friends do.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze studied Amanda’s face curiously. She too had been wholly caught off guard by this, and she too wanted it to be true. “Family?” She wrote out. </p><p> </p><p>“Ughh…. I was hoping to maybe do this after we’d made up and everything, but… I’mma just say it, I look at you and Jas and everyone one of us as family. You guys are my everything!” Amanda threw her arms out wide before letting them drop back down to her lap. “Why do you think I go to such stupid lengths sometimes just to make y’all happy?” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze hesitated with her pen. She held it to the paper, but wasn’t quite sure where to begin unpacking that. She thought she’d start with Amanda’s blood family, if only because that seemed to be what set off Amanda’s own irate behavior. “You hate your family, not us, but them. What makes you want to call us family if your real family just makes you mad?” </p><p> </p><p>“You guys <em> are </em> my real family.” Amanda called on Winnie’s offered wisdom. “Family ain’t just blood. I think I knew that all along, but it took me a while to actually feel comfortable saying all of this.” She shook her head and groaned. “Still feels weird though, after everything I went though.” </p><p> </p><p>“Did you not want to talk about it?” Constanze hoped the answer was yes, as she hoped to put their problems behind them here and now, but she knew that wouldn’t be possible. She wasn’t even confident that tonight would see her own issues resolved. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll give you the quick version, because, honestly, those fucks don’t deserve more than a minute of my time.” If she weren’t indoors Amanda would have spat in disgust. Her visage hardened. “My parents are two bougie douchebags that run a car company in the states. They’re so loaded they didn’t know what to do with the money half of the time.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re rich?” Constanze asked with all of the expected confusion. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> They’re </em>rich. I’m not their daughter. Not anymore. Not after they tried to create a life for me where all I did was abuse others, lie, and steal just to earn a quick buck.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze hesitantly wrote out. “You steal a lot though. And we definitely committed a federal offence earlier today.” Counterfeiting is no joke!</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, but when do I steal shit that really matters? If it was from you guys, I was just fucking around, having a laugh. I gave it all back. And the other stuff was from big brand stores or whatever; the people who run those places could live if they didn’t earn a dollar for two decades and still be stupidly wealthy.” Amanda rolled her shoulders where Constanze acquessed with a nod. “It’s different Conz. The… the relationship’s all different. If I stayed with them then I’d be either miserable, dead, or I’d be such a horrible person that you wouldn’t even be able to recognize me.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze tried not to consider why Amanda would be “dead” in that case. “How did you get to Luna Nova?”</p><p> </p><p>“Lots of begging and lots of lying. Yeah, ironic, I know, but that’s the game you gotta play with people who never went by the rules anyway. When some people got all the power in the world, you don’t have a friendly conversation with them about being equal: You take their shit and make things equal or you swindle them out of it. Whatever it takes to set things right.” Amanda was firm in her statements and genuinely confident in her reasoning. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze nodded understandingly, but she longed for the answer to the greater question. “So why do you call us family then?”</p><p> </p><p>“What else should I call you? I mean yeah, you guys are my friends, but you’re more than that!” Amanda put her hands to her chest. “You guys make me feel like I can be myself and no one else made me feel that way before. You gotta understand that, right? I mean, you and Sucy and how you were with your own folks…. It’s similar, ain’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze had to admit there was sound logic at play. She too was a misunderstood and mistreated child who only thrived around her compatriots, those who accepted and lifted her up and comforted her when she fell down. “It is.” Constanze spoke meekly, having set aside her writing pad for now. “I think I get it now though.”</p><p> </p><p>“Get what?” Amanda queried with a relaxed sigh as she tried to relax herself once again.</p><p> </p><p>“Why that phrase bothers you.” Constanze leaned in. “You don’t want to change because all your family did was make you change…. I don’t want to change either.” She looked down to the bed afterward, reconciling with that realization. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda held her chin with her left hand and thought long and hard on it. A minute or so passed in silence before she spoke up. “I can’t think of anything else that really explains it, so, yeah, that’s it.” Did that solve the problem? Not really, Amanda still felt she was an incompetant and otherwise doomed witch who would just end up hurting all of the people around her. <em> “It’s a start.” </em> She couldn’t deny that. “And you’re feeling like you’ve changed too much already.” </p><p> </p><p>“Mmm…. I don’t want to be like this anymore. I want to… I need to get revenge. I don’t know enough about my family, but I know that they didn’t deserve to die like that. No one at Ludinghal did. They deserve justice.” Constanze’s voice was shaky as she fought off the desire to give into her grim and angered emotions. She was angry, and she wouldn’t deny her anger, but she needed to learn to control it and live with it rather than live by it. </p><p> </p><p>“You’ll get your vengeance. I promised I’d help you before and that hasn’t changed.” Amanda reached out to firmly grasp Constanzes’ hands on her own. “Even if it weren’t for all the shit going on at Luna Nova, I’d help you walk backwards into hell if that’s what it took. I made a promise to you. I don’t break those lightly.” She hardly ever broke them at all, and never on purpose. “I’m sorry for what I said about your parents.”</p><p> </p><p>“You were right though.” Constanze squeezed Amandas’ hands in turn. “If you told me about that man, the identity of the attackers…. I don’t know what I would have done.” Her eyes were raised to meet Amanda’s own and began to wet with tears. </p><p> </p><p>“And if I let you do that stupid thing I thought you might do then what kinda friend would I be?” Amanda felt the need to cry as well, though only as a release. She hadn’t cried genuinely for quite a long time, and it wasn’t healthy to keep it all bottled up. “Maybe it’s a dumb thing to get upset over, but I should’ve trusted you. Even if it went bad, you’d trust me or Sucy to calm you down, right?” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze let a tear trickle down her face. It was bittersweet. “Mmhm.” She nodded and sniffled. “If you said something was a stupidly dangerous idea then I would have known I’d gone too far.” Both of them giggled. “I trust you.” Constanze said through her quiet laughter as another tear went down her cheek. “You’re a good friend; if Sucy can vouch for you like that in front of anyone, then that’s proof.”</p><p> </p><p>“Awww….” Amanda leaned in to give her friend a proper hug as she felt a tear or two go down her own face. “Jeez… look at what you did to me.” Her voice cracked in a sob and she blinked a few times to try and wipe away the half-happy tears in her eyes. Constanze returned the embrace enthusiastically leaving both of them buried in eachothers’ shoulders. “I love ya, ya big nerd.” </p><p> </p><p>“I love you too….” Constanze sniffled again. “Dumb punk.” They shared more teary laughter afterwards and allowed the moment to last as long as possible. </p><p> </p><p>A few minutes passed filled with silent trips down memory lane and gentle reminders of their shared solidarity. Amanda was the first to bring them back to why this conversation began. “You know, even if we ain’t all sunshine are rainbows, with all the bad shit we’ve been through and have to deal with later, I’m just glad I got you by my side…” She hesitated briefly to use the word, but went forward with it after pulling away from the hug and confidently smiling at Constanze. “Sis.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze was starry eyed. The idea of having a sister, one who truly loved and cared for her like Amanda did, one that she had chemistry with and could come to for just about anything; it was a familiar bond she felt with Sucy but forged from a sense of kinship and camaraderie rather than romantic attraction. She had two people in the world now who could get her through any problem, even the decimation of her ancestral family and home; nothing could stop her now. “Sister….” The loss of family was fresh in her mind. Constanze didn’t know if this was the best time to call others as such, but what else was Amanda but someone who had always tried to be there for them? They may have not been very close until now, but that was only due to a shared anxiety and apprehension to discuss the past. With that wall steadily torn down, what could separate them? </p><p> </p><p>“You ok with me calling you that sometimes?”  Amanda asked with genuine enthusiasm.</p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm….” Constanze hesitated and brought her hands to squish her own cheeks as she wracked her brain and heart for the answer. Ultimately, she wanted nothing more than for them to be sisters, “I am.” but she would need time to get used to that kind of moniker and relationship; would anything need to be different? Did it have to be? Maybe things were already different enough. “I’d like it a lot, actually…. I’m sorry if I seem hesitant, it’s… it’s a big leap.” </p><p> </p><p>“I know.” Amanda reassured as she held up her and Constanze’s right hand. “We may have had piss-poor families, but we can <em> be </em> the better family together. You, me, Sucy, Akko, Jas, all of ‘em!” She shook Constanze’s hand vigorously as though a pact had been made; in a way, one had. <em> “It’ll be different.” </em> She told herself. <em> “Those two pigs were nothing but manipulators just like mom and dad. They weren’t my brothers.” </em> She cast them from her memory as best she could. The scars left upon her, those that had her doubting her very right to exist as she was, would not be tossed aside so easily, but, <em> “They got no control of me now. I’m Amanda-Freakin-O’Neill, and ain’t no one changing that!” </em> she wasn’t going to let that hold her back. “So what d'ya say? Sisters?” Amanda grinned in a way only she could. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze smiled widely as if it were the first time she’d ever done so. She then clasped her other hand over the shake. “Sisters.” Amanda put her other hand over the shake as well and the two stared happily into eachothers’ eyes. </p><p> </p><p>This would be the start of something great, and the true beginning of their quest to save Luna Nova. Each shared a relaxed and relieved breath before Constanze put them on the path toward victory. “I think it’s time we figured out where to go from here.” She wrote out, feeling it best to give her voice a break after such an emotionally taxing conversation. </p><p> </p><p>“Hell yeah. Time to kick vampire ass!” Amanda punched her right hand into her left palm but her fiery expression softened when she realized just how far away that step in the plan was. “After… we… find… help?” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze shook her head with a sigh, not at all surprised to see Amanda jumping to the “ass kicking” part of the plan. “We need to fix your bike. We’ve got one broom and all we need is to get harassed by locals or the authorities. Flying around would just draw attention.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well maybe we <em> want </em> attention.” Amanda cocked her head knowingly. “How else we gonna find witches if we don’t go askin’ for them, or, you know, show off that we’re witches too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm….” Constanze grumbled curiously. “Good point,” She wrote. “But we can think of that when we come to it. Transportation first. Besides,” She looked to Amanda knowingly as she tapped the rest of her statement with her pen. “You want that bike fixed right?” </p><p> </p><p>“Uhh, duh!”</p><p> </p><p>“Then let’s get to—”</p><p> </p><p>“You guys? Hello? Can you hear me?” Lotte’s face and voice appeared from a digital looking display that arcanely flashed into existence just beside the two witches. “Am… I… interrupting something? And where are you guys?! I’ve been trying to call for—”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“LOTTE!?” Amanda and Constanze both shrieked in surprise and ecstatic astonishment. </p><p> </p><p>They had <em> a lot </em> of explaining to do. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you enjoyed that! </p><p>Conz and Amanda still have some char dev to go through in how they handle their past traumas/issues with how they cope with stuff, but that will be interspersed throughout the rest of the fic. This isn't the climax action wise, obviously, but it's kinda the peak of their relationship. I hope I've built to it well and that You've enjoyed the other relationships various characters have in this fic. </p><p>See you in a week or two with chapter fourteen; I think a certain man with hard eyes might be entering the foreground soon! (Lotte will be there in person later, but she'll be getting plenty of screen time in this fic and in her own fic, so don't worry!)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Blood of The Covenant | Ignition</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey all! Hoping you're enjoying how the story's shaping up as we move away from Luna Nova! I'm really sorry this took two weeks to get to you instead of one, but I can't always find as much time amidst work and life to write like a madwoman. That said, I'm SUPER proud of how this came out. I feel really good about it, and I think you guys will enjoy the last scene in this chapter in particular if you've enjoyed The Fates so far. </p><p>Hoping to start chapter 15 soon, though I make take a day or twos break; I'll see how my muse feels!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Lotte was dizzy by the end of the long winded explanation. There wasn’t really any short way to put it; that was a lie. There </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> a short way to put things, but Lotte had been so dumbstruck and mortified by how such a thing could have occurred that she demanded greater detail. First the attack during the meeting out in the forest and the dome being raised. Next, the dive into the sanctum in search of a way out and the subsequently bizarre events that overtook Hannah, Barbara, Amanda, and Constanze. Then came the agonizing wait to get Constanze’s machine working only for the test to flounder and be interrupted by a massive, weaponized blimp-castle. The battle that followed was grizzly and ultimately a lost cause with their current strength. Desperate measures were implemented, and now Luna Nova was frozen in time, relying solely on luck and the wits of their entrusted witch-escapees: Constanze and Amanda. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte felt like she had been told the plot to a fever dream induced by one of Sucy’s “inconspicuous” mushrooms, and her blank stare from her desk through the crystal ball said more than any explicative ever could. “So… yeah.” Amanda concluded. “That’s what happened.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!” Lotte suddenly screamed. The scream said more than her stare, in hindsight. She held her face in a terrified reflex. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze and Amanda both covered their ears for the duration of it, with the former peaking one eye open when all went quiet again. “Mmmmhm?” She grunted, as if to ask </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you done?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte hyperventilated and reached stiffly for a nearby pillow while shaking her head slowly. She looked like she’d seen a ghost, but she saw those all the time, so it was more apt to say that she looked like she had seen a very particularly gruesome and ghastly spectre. The pillow signaled that she wasn’t done screaming yet had Constanze and Amanda both their hands clamped over their own ears while Lotte shrieked into it. That happened at least twice more before Lotte felt she had numbed herself, however briefly, to the nightmarish news. “I’m… good… now.” She squeaked out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda and Constanze were both relieved to have their hearing back, with the latter speaking up. “Surprised your parents aren’t breaking your door down.” Constanze could imagine it perfectly: Lotte’s father, a true hulk of a man, with all the love in the world for his daughter at his back, crushing the door with just the weight of his shoulder-ram to see what his precious child was screaming about. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y-Yeah… let’s hope Ms. G. doesn’t think someone just got murdered.” Amanda picked at her left ear idly before wiping her hands on her jeans. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not… home… right… now.” Lotte’s volume was raised over time to a normal speaking level. She still looked like a deer in headlights, but sense was returning as the direness of the situation became apparent. This wasn’t an unavoidable tragedy like Ludinghal, and she was recognizing that now. They had a chance to beat this foe and save the day, just like they had plenty of times before; good gods if the stakes weren’t higher than ever before, though it’s hard to top a nuclear missile possessed by magic. “I’ll explain… what’s going on to them… later.” Her statements were still slow, almost slurred even by how dizzy she still felt. She was sick to her stomach, and felt that at any moment she may need to vomit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry to get all heavy on yah, but we’ve kinda been living through hell the past few weeks.” Amanda scratched the back of her head and shrugged uneasily. “We were worried you wouldn’t even be able to get in contact with us; our phones are probably at the bottom of the channel, and neither of us got a crystal ball.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze meekly chimed in. “And… we forgot what your number was by hand.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s ok.” Lotte said in such a way that made it clear that everything was certainly </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> ok. “I can barely remember my own phone number.” She sounded on the verge of laughing and crying all at once, though her expression was distant and blank. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re all caught up. We need a plan. Can’t waste time.” Constanze urged. “Anxiety… hurts. Take deep breaths. Then we can talk?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte shook her head more fervently this time. “No, no, no! Don’t leave! I </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t want to be alone right now.” Her tone was suddenly more present, quick, and distressed. “Let’s… let’s talk this out. Let’s get something in the works and then I’ll feel better. If we get a plan together I’ll be able to focus more.” Her breathing was still heavy and audible through the hologram-like screen of magic that she was being projected through. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, let’s start with what we’re dealing with here.” Amanda shifted herself in her sitting position beside Constanze to be more upright rather than relaxed. “We got a whole fuck-ton of vampires and three weird witches who control another fuck-ton of magical creatures. They’ve got a giant blimp, for some reason, and they’re after Luna Nova for… some… reason.” They never really did pin down a motive, let alone the origins. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We know who they could be.” Constanze said confidently at first but corrected herself with a tap to her chin. “Mmmm…. We know some things that could help us figure that out. Symbols.” She went to her notepad and held up the renditions both she and Amanda had made. “Witchnet. We can search for look-alikes.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“R-Right!” Lotte fumbled frantically for her wand, dropping it no less than twice before she managed to tap it to her crystal ball. Before her then was the summoned, ghostly like shell of a keyboard meant for laptops. She typed and mistyped up her searches for keywords such as vampires, heraldry, flag, banner, and so on. The search was initially quite cumbersome, and so she spoke while fine tuning her search terms. “You said you guys are… in a bed and breakfast right?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.” Constanze nodded. “We got lucky.” Not just to survive, but to get free rooms for a while. “We have one broom. Bike’s broken. Not totaled. Can be fixed.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God, I hope we can fix it quickly…. I mean, come on, it was just some water damage right?” Amanda prayed that her prized vehicle would be intact by the end of this adventure. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“H-How did that make it to shore with you guys anyway?” Lotte asked while typing away at her ethereal keyboard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Honestly, Lotte, we haven’t even begun to question all the weird shit that’s happened this past week.” Amanda wiped her hair back, though it always returned to originally spiky style. “Do we even wanna ask how the forest parted like that?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhhh?” Lotte was at a loss, especially so as she came across particularly weird images in her search. “Before you even say anything else, did you guys have any names? I’m finding a whole lot of things that aren’t even close to what you’re showing me….” Lotte felt her sickness get worse as their search went on; there had to be a solid lead for them to follow, right? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Zrinski.” Constanze had committed the name of the man who destroyed her home to bitter memory. Even after that long talk with Amanda, and with how well it ended for both of them in terms of their relationship, just saying that name made her blood boil. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Got it. Now what were you saying about the forest?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, bear with me, Lotte.” Amanda took a quick and intentional breath as she prepared to break things down again. “So we were getting the bike up to speed so we’d have enough force to like, shatter the dome, you know. And we’re doing laps around the school and making fucking sick dodges thanks to yours truly—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was fucking horrifying.” Constanze interrupted with an elbow to Amanda’s side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was fucking sick, now let me get through this. I’m starting to think I’ve talked so damn much today that I'mma end up like you; no offense.” It was long day after long day for the past week, and here Amanda was hoping they’d actually get some decent rest tonight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“None taken. Less bragging.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right, so we’re riding around, and no joke, I see part of the woods surrounding the academy just… open. It just parted for us, making a perfect path and everything. Big stones and trees and everything! It all just kinda… moved.” Amanda shrugged in confusion. “I thought I saw something moving underground, but it wasn’t you casting earth magic or something, right sis?” It took the slightest bit of effort to call Constanze by that word, but it felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>so very right</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do so. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze took a moment to respond, not being quite yet used to the “sis” moniker yet, but when she realized Amandas’ eyes were on her, she fought off a smile and replied. “I-I didn’t….” Embarrassment took hold, and so she resorted to writing out her next reply. “It wasn’t me. I’m only decent with earth magic. Metallurgy? That’s a different story. I’m great at that, but nothing I know could have done something like that.” She thought on the scene in question and had a brief epiphany. “I saw a big, crimson flower. We passed by it when we went down the path.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte thought she misheard the “sis” part and continued as though she didn’t hear it at all. “Crimson flower? Like the one you guys said attacked you in the sanctum?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit, you’re right!” Amanda palmed at her forehead in disbelief; the dots were coming together to form… something. “Wait, wait, wait, why is that stupid weed helping us!?” She could only assume it was helping. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze spoke up. “Maybe it had a reason to bring us deeper into the sanctum.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So it kidnapped my girlfriends and nearly broke half of my bones; great strategy!” Amanda said with all of the expected sarcasm and crossed her arms in frustration at the thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze leaned toward Amanda with a serious expression and tone. “But it makes sense. If we didn’t go down there, then I wouldn’t have found the mithril needed to make the drill-bit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and what did me, Hannah, and Barbara get out of it? Nightmare fuel and a stupid fire that damn near killed me, that’s what!” Amanda stubbornly argued, though she had a point that Constanze couldn’t really deny. “It should have just taken you down there then and dropped you off instead of making you wander around in the dark like that. At least that’s what it would have done if it </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanted to be helpful….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I… suppose…. What about—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I found it!” Lotte had been listening closely at first, but she missed some of the prior details if only because she had heard them prior, but more so because her search was bearing fruit! “Uh, here.” Lotte tapped her crystal ball twice more, and on Constanze’s and Amanda’s end, they saw another magical screen open up besides Lotte’s main one and displayed the red and green heraldry of the Bathory house. “This is it, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah!” Both Amanda and Constanze said in sync. They both smiled awkwardly at one another before Constanze allowed Amanda to take over with a nod. “That’s definitely it. We got a name for these S.O.B.s?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It says here….” The changes on Lotte’s screen on the crystal ball were reflected on the one shown to Amanda and Constanze: The blown up image was changed to show a mundane internet page that described the history of the Bathory clan from the perspective of the “modern” world. “This heraldry belonged to the family of Bathory, a noble kingdom that held territory and resided in what is today modern day Hungary. Elizabeth Bathory, the name most associated with their family, was an infamous lady who is suspected to be responsible for more than three hundred deaths that involved… </span>
  <span>voi luoja: bloodletting, cannabilism, torture…. Eugh…” Lotte was quite fascinated by the macabre, but this was a bit too visceral and bloody for her liking; she’d stick to hauntingly bejeweled skeletons and tales of less murderous vampires. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda and Constanze read it for themselves. The Latter grunted in a concerned manner. “Folk tales labeled her as a vampire, and her legacy spawned many myths and stories surrounding the fictional beings.” She read aloud from the document before sighing. “Doesn’t explain much.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but we got a lead now!” Amanda exclaimed determinedly. “Lotte!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ehh?!” Lotte was caught off guard by her name being suddenly called. “W-What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you check your weird witchnet connections?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-W-What weird… witchnet connections? I don’t know w-what you’re talking about, hehe.” Lotte adjusted her glasses and focused very intensely on not appearing nervous; too late for that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahhh come on Lotte, I’ve seen your search history, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Amanda waved dismissively as if none of what she spoke of was a big deal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eeeep!” Lotte squeaked in terror, hiding her beet red face and now nervously sweating brow behind the pillow she’d screamed into earlier. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are… you guys… talking about…?” Now Constanze wanted to hurl. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Amanda blinked twice in confusion as she looked at Constanze. Then the realization struck her. “O-OH! No, oh, Jesus, no, god!” Amanda waved her hands in complete rejection of the notion. “A-And even if I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> see that…. Ok, look, we’re not gonna explore that further! Lotte’s a mod on some weird witch forum website and they come up with all sorts of cool witch-lore and ancient knowledge or whatever! That’s all I know!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wym hid who weed mine perch mystery!?” Lotte muffedly yelled from behind her pillow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Constanze and Amanda said in sync again. “Ok, we have to stop doing that.” Constanze continued. Sisters or not, saying the same thing at the same time was just creepy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why did you read my search history!?” Lotte peaked her reddened face over the top of her pillow, her entire posture was otherwise shrunken away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, remember last year when I got you that fountain pen for your birthday?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes….” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well… I… decided to break into your guys dorm after Sucy gave me a mold of the key because I was out of ideas, and I thought your search history could shed some light on that.” Amanda sheepishly scratched the back of her head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST ASK ME!?” Lotte screamed with justifiable anger and embarrassment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhh…. Surprise... gift?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze palmed her face with both hands and lowered it with a deep sigh. “Schwester…. I love you, but you’re more socially illiterate than me.” And that was saying something. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ehehehe… I blame Sucy for enabling me.” Amanda cleared her throat then. “Back on track though! Am I right, or am I right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte took a moment or two to compose herself before speaking up above the pillow. “Yes…. I’m a mod on vexfulhexful; I was going to ask the witches on there some stuff anyway about a new friend of mine, but this is way more important.” Lotte was suddenly distracted by a sight off screen. “S-Sorry Mali, but my friends are in trouble! I need to help them out first!” Amanda and Constanze both looked back up to Lotte’s display before looking to each other with a healthy dose of confusion. “Thanks for understanding Mali…. I promise I’ll help you out soon!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhh, Lotte. Who’s… Mali?” Amanda quirked her head to one side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“N-Not important!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Blink twice if you’re in danger.” Constanze wrote out and held up on her notepad. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine! Mali’s just a spirit in a skull that Akko got me as a gift. She’s just got some things she wants to work out, but I’ll handle that later.” Lotte threw aside the pillow, now that her face was less flush and had become more serious. “Can we please focus on the Bathory problem! What did you want me to search for?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze continued where Amanda left off. “We need the real history: The Bathorys must be vampires. We saw them. Fought them. They’re not normal. Too fast, too strong, and the eyes and fangs. It all matches.” She paused to find the exact words, as planning to confront such enemies wasn’t exactly easy. “Figure out why they might have attacked us. Search for what kills vampires.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If we need to start reciting bible verses in Latin and carrying crosses around, I’m gonna lose my mind.” Perhaps her western Catholic upbringing would be useful then. “And I’m pretty sure we </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> what kills them. Conz, you blew the heads off five of the bastards by the time we reached the courtyard!” She threw her arms up exclamatorily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Easier if we don’t have to fight them.” Constanze had read plenty of pulp fiction and pop culture things about vampires. There must have been some truth to the loads upon loads of myths and stories. “Doubt we can get rid of that storm. Must be to protect them from sunlight.” She presumed they actually were weak to such a thing given its prevalence in vampire myths.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get looking for that. I-I want to say the vampires in Nightfall are written based off of actual vampire rules and mannerisms…. Uhh, but they’re usually way less crazy and evil!” Lotte refocused herself on typing up a call for aid; a proper forum post detailing the information she would need. “And I’ll try to find some information about the Bathorys. Maybe witch-history will have something different about them, something we can exploit?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s the hope.” Amanda nodded once. “Think we can search up anything about those crazy ass witches?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Based on what you said…. It’s possible? I think? I’ll ask, but I don’t expect much to come up. The witches on here are resourceful, but I don’t even know of those ones you’re talking about are even well known.” Lotte hoped they weren’t, in a way, as if that would make them less dangerous or notable, even if they had pulled off feats of magic only spoken of in historical events. She hummed nervously then before continuing. “Anything else? I want to help out as much as I can…. I feel… so much worse about coming home now. I could have been there for you guys.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would be trapped.” Constanze reminded. “Barely escaped. Better you’re out here. We’ll need you.” She was genuine in her belief and confidence in Lotte. Though she was one of the most modest witches in the New Nine, Lotte’s skills as a speaker to spirits and diviner of riddles was impeccable, and had saved the gangs’ skins on more than one occasion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“T-Thanks Constanze….” Lotte sighed.  She would likely never admit her value any time soon, nor did she feel that same sort of confidence in herself given her self perceived “replaceability.” “I’ll… call you guys back when I figure some things out. I-I gotta go and calm down too. I feel like I’m going to puke….” She held her stomach in clear sign of sickness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda gave a two fingered salute. “Keep up the good work Lotte! We’ll be with you every step of the way. We’re gonna get through this.” And then she offered a thumbs up that Constanze mirrored. “You’ve got the O’Neill and Braunchsbank guarantee on that!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte felt an uneasy smile stretch across her face. “I trust you two. Thanks again…. Really sorry if I lag behind. We’ll get through this.” She took a deep breath and held her fists up below her chin and close to her chest in a display of confidence. “Lotte out!” The screen snapped away in a small flash of magic, leaving behind only the arcane airs that wafted in the still room-temperature environment. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pffff. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Lotte out.’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>She’s a bigger nerd than you sometimes.” Amanda said while hopping down from the bed into her boots. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze sighed with finality as she too clambered off of the bed and slipped on her boots. “Can’t just sit around and wait.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you think I’m getting ready for? We got a bike to fix.” Amanda turned and smiled, glad to have some direction and goals to work toward. Constanze returned the soft smile for the same reasons, and the two were able to gather up Constanzes’ various tools and head on out to Ms. Gibson’s garage where the crimson bike was being kept. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few hours had passed. Amanda and Constanze both had been able to mellow out and set their minds to a task they both could enjoy: Fixing up the bike. Though Amanda was unlike her newly dubbed sister in that she found no innate pleasure in tinkering, she had been genuinely proud about how well she maintained her bike. It was perhaps stereotypically American, and Amanda was well aware of that, but after spending so much of her childhood while having nothing that she could really ever call her own, she felt that a vehicle like this could help her feel at one with her desired identity. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In other words, as Constanze put it earlier, it was mostly for “aesthetics,” but could she really be blamed for that? There was also genuine utility to the vehicle as well, as it provided a more mundane mode of transportation when broom travel was either hindered or likely to draw unwanted attention. With all of that said, Amanda was over the moon to find that her bike was very much fixable. She trusted Constanzes’ prior words on the matter, but she had to see it to believe it. Anything that had gone missing or was loose could be replaced simply enough with spare parts littered about Ms. Gibson’s messy garage, and transfiguration magic. The rest could be tended to with elbow grease, literal grease, and the shared know-how from Constanze and Amanda to get it back in working order. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’d been working in relative silence, allowing the sounds of turning wrenches, magical zaps and poofs, and the clicks of metal bits to soothe their trouble-swamped minds. They’d been through so much these past few days that a little time spent holed up and working did them both good, especially Constanze. Nothing built quite built trust for a witch like Constanze than tinkering with someone. Toward the end, after Amanda rose up from her kneeling position with splotches of grease marking her face and hands, she broke that relative quiet with a satisfied sigh. “Moment of truth?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm.” Constanze nodded, tossing Amanda the keys. They were caught in the air and twirled once in hand. Amanda eyed them proudly and drifted her gaze down to her ride. After stepping to the side to position herself right, she gently inserted the keys and looked up to Constanze. “On three?” Constanze asked knowingly. Amanda nodded in turn, and then they both began the countdown. “One…. Two…. Three!” The key was turned with a quick flick of the wrist; sputtering followed. It rumbled and shook like an old lawnmower. Spurts of gas spilled out of the exhaust alongside a small bit of water that hadn’t quite been cleaned out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both of the witches tensed in anticipation. “Come onnnn….” Amanda turned the key once more. It sputtered further but with a quicker pace. Then it petered out fully. “Damn!” Amanda clicked her tongue and undid the key. “Here I thought we had it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhh…. We don’t have gas.” Constanze had just noticed this as she leaned in to inspect the bike more closely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck.” They both said in unison. An awkward silence followed, only to be broken by the two laughing harder than they had in a long time. Amanda leaned against her bike while wagging her keys at Constanze. “Didn’t you say we needed to stop doing that?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eheh…. Work in progress, haha….” Constanze chuckled between statements while gathering up her tools. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This bike ain’t the only thing.” Amanda sagely added. “Wanted to ask how you’re feeling now. Been a few hours, thought we might be more chilled out, you know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, is that a yes? You doing alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm….” Constanze’s smile drooped into a more neutral expression. She considered her tools carefully, as if missing something, though all she was missing was the words to put her thoughts into near order. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not feeling up to anymore heavy stuff tonight? I don’t blame yah, just wanted to check in…. I mean, what’re sisters for?” God how it felt so good to say that. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Sisters.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Amanda repeated it in her mind like a middle schooler who had been given permission to swear, though this was as far from vulgar as Amanda had ever been. Constanze felt much the same about it. In front of Lotte she had only gotten embarrassed because this seemed like something they’d make a big deal out of. To say it was like a marriage proposal was a bit much, or rather incorrect, but it had that same gravitas, or perhaps the same expectation of gravitas. Maybe the time just wasn’t right to take center stage with such a proclamation, even if it was a big deal for both of them and. “Sorry if I’ve been using that too much now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no. Keep doing that. It’s comforting.” Constanze looked up suddenly, snapped out of her deeper thoughts by Amanda’s apology. It was more than just a big deal, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Not alone anymore.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was crucial to their success; emboldening their spirits to rise to the impossible task before them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Never was alone with them around.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your wish is my command, sis. What'dya say though? We’ve done enough tonight I think. We’ll get gas when it’s not....” Amanda stopped to summon an ephemeral clock with the snap of her fingers. “Midnight already! We’ve really been at it I guess.” She stowed the keys in her pocket then and snapped the clock away. “Let’s get some rest.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm….” Constanze hadn’t answered Amanda’s prior question. She wasn’t feeling too good in spite of how her heart warmed at the sound of the word sister when spoken from Amanda’s lips. That anger still welled up inside her, and she couldn’t fully get over how she acted toward Amanda. Her slight against her friend was made worse now; it was a slight against someone she called family. Amanda was easy to forgive others, and Constanze wasn’t sure if that was a fault of hers or a sign of her kindness, but she was certain that their problems hadn’t been resolved overnight. Constanze still had a good deal to work through when it came to managing that anger, or, more correctly, justifying it. She had to, for without a good reason it felt wrong to indulge herself so deeply in those dark emotions and thoughts; they scared her, but satiated some grim and grave part of her mind, and felt just as right as they did wrong at times. It was a difficult balancing act, “You go ahead. Going to work more. Needs some touching up.” And it was one she would tend to with more mechanical labor; was it an escape, avoidance, or proper coping? Constanze couldn’t tell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You sure? We’ve been pretty starved for good sleep, and we might have a lot to do tomorrow.” Amanda expected quite the report from Lotte. She was a resourceful witch in ways that Constanze and Amanda weren’t. Only Diana really topped Lotte in her mind for research, but Diana had a way of topping most of the New Nine when it came to witching skills. The only exceptions were what made each of them special, what gave them flare, and Akko, of course, who she bottomed instead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Needs some modification. Simple stuff, but useful.” Constanze reassured. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As long as she’s as beautiful as I remember her when I wake up,” Amanda said while walking around the bike and toward the door. She continued after making an open handed gesture to Constanze. “Be my guest.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze gave a thumbs up that sent Amanda on her way. The raised hand fell sadly though to her side. Alone again, though it’s what she wanted. Constanze turned back to the bike and considered the flaws she saw immediately in their patch up job. It could be ironed out in an hour or two at most, but Constanze needed something meatier to occupy her stormy mind. Her eyes drifted down to her tools and she considered her hammer above all. It was near useless in the job before her, but her mind had been thinking on what happened in the sanctum. She had forgot to extrapolate further on her hunch regarding the crimson flower that aided them. What purpose did Amanda’s, Hannah’s, and Barbara’s time down there served? If this thing was helping them, and it wasn’t stupid, it would have dropped them off somewhere safe while it led Constanze along toward that abyssal precipice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“She took in a fire.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze thought as she examined the hammer as she did the one Vaal gave her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“And that paper.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She looked then to her pockets and fished out the still dry parchments. Constanze looked to the crier’s script specifically and examined its words once more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Good people of the land, hear me and listen well; your lives, your labour, your families:</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They are all at risk! The lords and ladies of the realm watch on though; </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Beasts roam the countryside, monsters, sometimes beyond description, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Grip us and all in fear. But there is hope! Where your so called masters fail,</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We fight! Where darkness falls, our order brings light! We bear the torch of tomorrow!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We are the Order of The Balefire, and we have all known your fear once before.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We can help you, but we require aid in turn. Our hunters fight far afield and deaths is</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A constant companion in this war. We want you, honest and valiant folk of the realm;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Rise up! Join with me, with us, and hold the flame of the Balefire high! We will teach</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was unfinished, regrettably, but Constanze understood the gist of it. She couldn’t put a date to the dialect of German, but hazarded a guess of the thirteenth century; history wasn’t her strong point. It was older than she would ever be and that was enough of a ballpark to work in. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Balefire.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The word hanged in the airs of her mind like cigar smoke. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Could that fire be the same one?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Amanda had been entrusted to “seek glory and burn brightly,” as she put it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Too convenient.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze thought initially. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Too convenient to be an accident.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She was certain that Crimson Flower had a hand, or, root in this. Hannah and Barbara’s side of things was far less tangible though; it seemed very disconnected from what she heard from Jasminka. A door and seal with four figures on it and a disk in the center. Something to be pondered on later. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Note to self: Talk to Amanda tomorrow about that fire. She hasn’t said anything else weird about it, but I’m curious.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze checked it on her proverbial list before </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>stowed the papers back in her jean pockets. In front of her then was the bike. She still wanted something physical to occupy her, and even with the theories about the Crimson Flower, her mind was still a bit hesitant to fully step away from the morbid thoughts of violence and death. “Hmmm.” She put her right hand to her chin then and walked about the vehicle with a raised brow. “Needs an upgrade.” She said to herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze was never a fan of the idea of riding on the back of a motorcycle, and her experience of clinging for dear life onto Amanda’s body was just proof that it wasn’t for her; time to correct that issue. She’d need a bit more metal than what scrap and junk Ms. Gibson had lying around. Time to go late-night scavenging. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The personal quarters of Elizabeth Bathory were blindingly furbished. Hardly any of the colors were bright, per say, but the configurations and style that accompanied the work of every piece of furnishing and accessory were unique yet cohesive. Every edge was more like a spike or blade that stabbed out no less than three inches from the foundation, meant to cut and bleed any who did not navigate the chamber with the grace and familiarity of its one and only denizen. And everything was so neatly and strategically placed as to be just close enough to another object that such bloodletting was inevitable. This room was not designed for humans, despite all the familiarity the tables had in their rectangular or circular shape. Despite all the comfort the sheets might offer under the imperial arches over the bed. Despite the fragrance of teas and other burning plants meant to soften the senses and lull the anxious. No, this was a monster’s lair. Crimson and black. All was crimson and black. Soon ALL would be crimson and black, should Bathory get her way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But before that, there would be calm. There would be pleasantries. Bathory had invited her most trusted daughter to meet with her, dine with her even, in private no less. They were clarifications needed for the ritual. It needed to go off without a hitch if Elizabeth’s nightmarish delusion was to become reality. She was sat at a small round table upon one of only two chairs. One was clearly meant for her by how even the arms of the thing bore spikes and pin-prick like protrusions. Their purpose was inscrutable; masochism, intimidation, madness, all worthy answers for as to why they were thus adorned, but none seemed wholly satisfying on their own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had been seated there for hours, porcelain like in her stillness. The only movement came from the gentle lifting of a black-metal chalice to her lips. The blood storages of the castle were massive. The blood storages of the world were greater. Combined, they were not enough. She sipped at it with a cold breath, colder than any of the other blood-drinking not-corpses that walked the halls and served her dutifully. Every drop was like a profane delight, a lover taken in passion against the wishes of God and Satan alike; such deities interested her little. No god of Abraham, nor any being interested her. All of her spiritual faith lay in her appearance that reflected back to her deceptively soft eyes on the surface of the perfectly clean glass table. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite the near sexual delight she took in the imbibing of human blood, Bathory cared not from where the blood flowed, only that it flowed. She professed at times the purity of “virgin” blood, but almost all of it was hogwash. The only interest such “rare” blood had to her lay in the fact that she did not possess it before, and now she did. The witches were much the same, but their blood had greater material value. “Power overwhelming.” The inhuman silence of the room broke with her sultry and frosty words. “Did they even realize what they were offering?” The Fates knew nothing of the ritual. Elizabeth knew just by the reports that theur words were mostly hollow. Assuredly, Luna Nova was stocked with magical artifacts and lore that would serve any imperistically minded vampire well, but times had changed. They offered tools that held power, but Elizabeth would seek power itself, even as she was cut off from those sources by her immortal and unnaturally undead nature. She chuckled at the thought of the Fates and how they felt they had all of the cards in hand, even if they did, or even if they didn’t; Bathory didn’t care. Pride was too soft a word for her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The goblet was then lowered then, making a pleasing “clink” noise against the glass. Then, without further disturbance to the deathly quietness, one of her entrusted maidens ghosted into the room. She stepped through the door, physically present, but her walking made no noise, nor did she breathe as so many other vampires did; not out of necessity but of human habit. The maidens had forsaken that humanity so long ago, and Bathory wasn’t sure if she herself ever had any; she most certainly did, but those memories were expunged from her mind. “She is here then?” Elizabeth asked the silent maiden who nodded slowly. “Send her upward. Entreat her to remove her shoes. The racket those godless excuses for footwear make is unbearable.” She then moved her hands to her lap and raised one leg over the other to complete her “perfect” sitting pose. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin stepped onward and upward as instructed by the veiled maidens. She had removed her parada like heels and went barefoot, to her noble detestment, but she had learned not to complain in the presence of mother and queen. When she arrived in the room proper, she paused in the doorway to refamiliarize herself with the sight of the thorn-bush-like bedroom. It was much like the one she had hundreds of years ago back in </span>
  <span>Čachtice, but even more crowded and less hospitable to visitors. Katalin admired the commitment to the… style, we’ll say, but never quite understood the point of it all. Nevertheless, she had learned the dance, “Mother, I’m honoured to be entreated to such a meeting. How might I be—” almost. Katalin had cut her dress and left leg ever so slightly on a spike that jabbed out from the leg of another table. She winced so very softly, but Elizabeth could sense every error and emotion in her sired child. “Be of assistance?” Her words did not falter, and she continued as normal over toward the round glass-topped table. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The pleasure is mine, dearest daughter.” No it wasn’t. “Come, sit. I’d like you to… enlighten me on the finer points of your discoveries. You have the scrolls with you, yes?” Elizabeth remained gentle in tone and appearance though, even as her claws gently drifted along the glass like fine instruments. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As requested.” Katalin nodded pleasedly, sat down, and pulled the ancient texts in question from a pouch within her dress. They were bound in two loom-like pieces made from wood, allowing it to be rolled up and stored with ease. When unfolded, the scripts revealed themselves as Tantras, spiritual, philosophical, and at times, arcane texts written in Sanskriti. Typically they are associated with Hinduist and Bhuddist teachings, but the word has also been used to describe any formally written system or code from the Hindi traditions. “Straight from the Vaticans’ vaults back during the 17th century.” Katalin chuckled. “They thought crosses and water would keep us at bay; the fools. It was a trifling raid really, especially with the aid of that shrewd bishop.” She slowly dragged her hand over the paper that stretched out in full to a length of two meters; only one portion was shown for now. “I can understand the desire to read it straight from the source rather than rely on second hand words.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excellent.” Elizabeth leaned in and stared at the words, written in Sanskrit, with hungry eagerness. She could not immediately read the words, but found herself aided by Katalin who offered her an enchanted pair of opera glasses that had been plundered from a theatre in Venice some time ago. Once she looked through the lenses, the words became translated into the language most familiar to the beholder; why one would need to read an at opera was beyond anyone’s knowledge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth read the Tantra, titled: Inquiries of The Immortal Vetala (Vampire), penned by a Tantric (Sorcerer) named Bhavna. The pertinent passages were as follows:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ravivāsara, the twelfth day of Karkata. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>King Vikramāditya has returned with a prize thought impossible to obtain! A wise and ancient Vetala spirit-host has agreed to accompany our lord; The Vetala finds him quite amicable and intriguing. Gloriously, this same Vetala has offered his wisdom unto me for transcription. As a humble servant to his king, I shall compile all knowledge the Vetala imparts unto me within this scroll; I shall mark the dates upon which the Vetala graces me with his company. He has stated his name is Isha, though he had only taken this after arriving within our lands four year ago. His name prior to this, by his account, has changed “with the peoples upon who I rely,” which I believe to mean the people upon which he feeds for sustenance. His claims, and the claims of the locals who reported the sighting of this Vetala to our lord, confirm that his partaking of lifeblood has almost always been with the consent of the individual; I shall note that his household manners are exquisite for a being who has slept upside-down under a tree for many moons. I eagerly await our next meeting with him, though King Vikramāditya has informed me that this will not be for a week's time, as he and Isha have much to discuss in private. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ravivāsara, the twenty fourth day of Karkata. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Finally! Isha has come. I hesitate to recant my earlier statements on his cordial nature, as he appeared within my bedchambers when the moon was at its zenith. I had only noticed him when he spoke my name. I write this with all due haste, and apologize for any errors or vagueness; my mind is foggy from an interrupted sleep. Only now do I see his true visage. He is a ghoulish man with a face befitting the bats his kind mimics, though he lacks a nose. Thorns and spikes run along his head and back, and he has come clothed only in simple robes familiar to me; is he a man of Athens? Or has he simply adopted their clothing as he has adopted a name local to our land? He is yet to say. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The text goes on for several passages more on the recountings Isha makes on various historical events that predate written history as is typically known. Wars between mythical clans and tribes, battles between gargantuanly sized titans of arcane origin; the stuff of legends. The text would also delve into the realms of philosophy, discussing the meanings and origin of life and humanity through the eyes of a being who reportedly lived for no less than eight centuries. The subjects are metaphysical in nature at first and range from the relation between ideas purported by cultures that never came into contact to the nature of magic and its supposedly innate relation to the souls of living things, and even debates between the Tantric Bhavna and Isha over the existence of such a thing as souls. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What intrigued Elizabeth and Katalin though lay toward the middle of the Tantra:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Guruvāsara, the thirtieth day of Kanyā.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Over a month has gone by, and Isha continues to astound me. He has offered, in exchange for three jars of my blood, that he might soon travel without fear of starvation, to teach me the secrets of his Vetalan magicks. Though he had said previously that his kind cannot naturally deal in magic, for the first of their kin had bargained away their own connection to magic in exchange for immortal powers of the flesh, there is a legend among the Vetalan that has been proven true: Isha is living proof of said legend. He claims to have performed something he calls “The Rite of Crimson Convergence.” He describes it as a ritual, utilizing symbols I shall have him draw below. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Beneath the text were those very symbols: Arrays of circles containing lines drawn from non-central points in the shapes that connect unevenly with one another across a square frame. One great circle in the center is surrounded by four smaller circles inhabiting each corner, forming an unfinished hourglass-like shape with the lines drawn between them and across the greater circle. Within the broken triangular shapes of the hourglass that were laid over the larger, central circle, were intricate, but generally rough and jagged patterns of runes in a text that could be considered Lunar, but clearly originated from a </span>
  <em>
    <span>different</span>
  </em>
  <span> moon. Smaller depictions of the individual </span>
  <em>
    <span>Far-Lunar</span>
  </em>
  <span> Runes were drawn beside, forming a chant. They ranged from familiar to abhorrently bizarre from the perspective of a human witch-scholar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I do not know if my throat can actively reciprocate the noises he makes for the incants. I believe that to do so would require me to assemble a small choir of musicians who wield instruments I am very unfamiliar with. Isha claims that he had encountered a trusted flesh-weaving mystic from the lands of the Kushites, and that she modified his throat and voice so that he might be able to speak this difficult tongue, but also ensures me that with practice, any man could recite it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>On the subject of the ritual itself, he states that it demands the blood of no less than two hundred souls, taken willingly or otherwise at the time of enacting the ritual. The amount used apparently is only strict in terms of a minimum; any greater amount will have greater effects, perhaps exponentially. He did not seem eager or willing to discuss how he had come to acquire so many living persons for slaughter. I believe this is the first time I have seen him border anything close to anger, but he soon apologized and warned me against asking him of his days as a “young man,” whatever that means to someone as ancient as he. The blood of the sacrificed must be spilled with the accompanying chants detailed above; I shall rewrite it including the pronunciations, as best as I can reproduce them, below. This chanting persists indefinitely, ending only when the focus of the ritual, the Vetalan(s) at the center of the ritual square-circle, has imbibed every drop of sacrificed blood. From there, the Vetalan(s) shall be imbued with the energies of all the lives that have been sacrificed. This ritual, and this ritual alone, allows Vetalan to regain their access to the magical flow of the world, and it raises their already inhuman strength to terrifying heights. Isha has imparted to me that, he is only as tall as he is (and I have seen no man taller than him) because he wills his body to be smaller so that he does not frighten me, and so that he may more easily fit within the homes of most mortals. Truly I have never met someone as fascinating, and strangely terrifying, as he. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Tantra goes on for a while more, but Elizabeth had extracted what she wanted, and so she rolled the scroll up neatly with a devilish grin on her face. “Marvelous, truly marvelous. Perhaps if I had met this Isha character, I would consider sharing my rule with a king.” She joked and laughed austerely; if that vampire still lived, she would drink him dry and leave him an ashen corpse all the same. “Now, based on your studies into the properties of witch’s blood, what can you tell me of its effects on this ritual?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin shifted uncomfortably as her left leg idly pricked against one of the many spikes that surrounded her. She was so very close to resembling her mother in looks and grace, but her mind was still so very different. “Myself and the scholars in our thrall are certain: The value in terms of literal weight and volume is three-fold. One witch, wrung dry and bled for all they’re worth is equivalent to three mundane mortals who have been strung through the same process.” Katalin gently rested her right hand on her cheek as she leaned back in her chair with great care. “With the resources provided by the Fates, we should see to the machine you’ve demanded being complete within a week's time. Then we’d be able to process every witch we could possibly apprehend from Luna Nova in just an hour or two.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I see now why you were so adamant about our pursuing concentrated populations of sorcerers…. Well studied.” Elizabeth’s smile never faltered, even as she pondered the details. “Though I wonder why you took so long to awaken me…?” Her right claw tapped at her chin while her eyes focused with the slightest hint of intensity on Katalin’s face. “In simpler times, we could have assembled thousands of prisoners with less… interlopers being involved.” The Fates intrigued her, but just that. They were a passing fancy. All things were in the face of an eternity of blood.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The seals… upon your tower, mother,” Katalin nervously explained, breaking from her typically charismatic and silky smooth character. “They were simply too strong. Only when magic had faded near to the point of extinction, only to return ever stronger, did we have a chance to seize your body.” The seals which imprisoned Bathory had been overloaded, short-circuited, in a sense, when Yggdrasil was revitalized and spread its magic across the world. Katalin felt a wave of relief rush through her unliving body as Elizabeth softened her stare back to its typical, beguiling form. “We had to focus our efforts on preparing for the momentous day of awakening. Surely, my and Nikolais’ preparations have pleased you, no?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elizabeth hummed, though the low rumbling in her deep and rich voice sounded something more like a purr or perhaps a growl from a big cat. Her fangs peaked out from behind her lips and were allowed to hang over her lower lip and reach down to her chin. Her mouth then closed, leaving the sharp and pearly white fangs out on display as she reformed her smile. “Greatly. But there is </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> room for improvement.” That is, until Elizabeth had her way; she would be the ideal to live up to, not that anything worth mentioning would be living on earth at that point. “See to it that your work is not halted on the machine. I want this to be simple and as immediate as possible. We cannot allow The Fates to intervene, and should we give them enough time, they will learn what is going on.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It shall be as you say.” Katalin bowed her head. “Will that be all?” She wished this wasn’t the end of their discussion; she desperately wanted to spend more time with her mother. She wanted to emulate her in every way shape and form, and the only way she could achieve this, after years and years of strict self conditioning, was to observe her idol and sire. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It will. You are excused.” But it was never meant to be. “Ah, actually, one more thing.” Elizabeth continued. “See to it that the first wave of scouts is launched within the hour. Have them wreak havoc wherever they please, but ensure that they do not cause too much trouble as to appear organized or related. And, do be sure to dispatch more courtiers. We will have need of more agents within the human hierarchies; the ones back home served us well.” Though she left much of her planning to her subordinates, it was never out of ineptitude, but rather pride and boredom. “Above all though, ensure that they are well informed that they must return after their work is done. We are still small relative to the world; every minion is valuable until we can conduct the ritual.” There would be no need for minions then, though Katalin didn’t interpret it that way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin rose to her feet in a hurry and curtsied, being cut once more on her way up. “Right away, my queen. You’ll have a full report by next sundown.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do ensure Nikolai doesn’t kill our apothecaries assigned to mending on his wound, by the way.” Elizabeth drolly remarked as she leaned back in her chair and raised the bloody cup to her lips. “Sometimes I wonder if that boy is concerned wholly with the mission or his </span>
  <em>
    <span>honour</span>
  </em>
  <span>….” Bathory said as if the word was a joke. “See to it that he remains focused on what’s truly</span>
  <em>
    <span> important</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin could only nod and take her leave, and to her credit, she managed to escape the room without any more missteps that would earn her more cuts and stabs. Elizabeth was left alone once more, as she preferred, and laid her free hand upon the rolled up Tantra left on the table. Silence returned to the chamber as Bathory tended to her vice, her need, her reason for being and only want in the world: The imbibing of blood. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>A dreadful snoring was filling the garage. Luckily, no one’s room was near it, so Constanze could snore away to her sleeping heart’s content. It was around five in the morning, the sun was still far from rising given the wintery season, and so it appeared to be just as late in the evening as it did two hours prior when she finished her work. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Lune Rouge” </span>
  </em>
  <span>as she dubbed it, was ready for riding, hidden neatly under a tarp for the big reveal later that day. She was really hoping Amanda would love the changes, and even if she didn’t, too bad! Functionality trumped form for Constanze, unless the thing in question was bipedal, made of metal, and designed to fight monsters from space, or big lizards made from radiation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her dreams were filled with the things; kaiju movie, after kaiju movie, she’d seen them all and then some. At least that night's sleep was peaceful, compared to the prior, which were nightmare ridden or generally devoid of emotion. She didn’t have much to be happy about given the danger at hand, but Constanze felt the same way Amanda did about their new relationship. Warm, fuzzy, </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She hadn’t felt safe since this all began, and even then, the feelings of safety were never guaranteed to someone as anxiety ridden as Constanze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If only she could sleep longer, but alas, a car alarm started down the street outside, and the walls of the garage were thin enough for Constanze to pick it up loud and clear. She had sat herself down at a desk and rested her head on a pillow she brought in while working; for whatever reason, she was energetic enough to work on a bike but too lazy to walk to bed once it was all said and done. It’s the one thing that would likely always stay constant with Constanze: Poor sleeping habits. For this rude awakening, she couldn’t be blamed though. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A horrible groan mixed with a yawn came from her mouth as she hesitated to throw a nearby screwdriver at the direction of the noise. Her body wasn’t awake enough to even grab onto the thing though, and so she fumbled around as if wanting for an alarm to turn off, but found nothing. Then she resorted to covering her ears with the pillow, hoping that by some merciful power on high or deep below, that the neighbors would quiet that infernal racket. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then the sounds of crushing metal and carbon-fiber came. Screams followed, distantly quiet, but genuine and terror filled. That had Constanze falling off of her stool in a wide-eyed flail. “ACH!” The piercingly sudden pain that swelled at the back of her head forced Constanze to grab her scalp like she’d just been beaten with a bat. She swore a hundred times over in German while rolling on the ground as the sounds of more car-crunching noises and screams filled the air. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s when Amanda came barrelling in with a shirt half way over her head and jeans that still needed to be buttoned properly; she struggled to fit the rest of the shirt onto her form as she got a hold of herself. “JESUS CHRIST, WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!?” She demanded, her eyes partly bloodshot and struggling to stay open. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-What’s going on out there?!” Ms. Gibson called from the kitchen while wielding a rolling pin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Figuring that out!” Amanda called back while fixing up the rest of her clothes and throwing on her jacket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By now, Constanze had risen to a sitting position with clenched teeth. She scrambled for her wand and raised it to the back of her head to soothe the throbbing. As she did so, she spoke. “Car alarms! Then screaming! Then crushing!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You alright?” Amanda slid up by her sister’s side and knelt down to assist her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine! Outside! See what’s happening!” Constanze managed to get on her feet quickly with Amanda’s aid, and then both of them were rushing toward the garage door with all needed haste. They threw it up and opened the way with a heave only to see the neighbor’s mailbox, wooden post and all, get hurled down the street, having been batted aside by some large creature. The two witches peeked outside to see the monster in question: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A hulking grey, boulder toned, and partially rock covered behemoth had decided to take a stroll down Fowl Street. It was twelve feet tall and clothed only in heavy clumps of moss that graciously covered its groin, and otherwise was adorned, or rather, had become riddled with heavy stones and rocky layers around its shoulders and arms, covering most of the skin in those areas. A singular horn familiar to that of a rhino’s own adorned its singularly eyed head; a cyclops had come! More accurately, as both of them noted, it had been sent here, for its one eye was covered by the crimson airs of the enraging and enthralling spell the weird witches had used to muster their army of monsters. That hardly made this worse, for reasoning with a cyclops was already extremely difficult. They were like the bigfoot of the magical world outside of the Americas, for when you saw one, it was likely alone, hard to get a picture of, and your remains were likely never found if you got too close. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had stepped on the neighbor’s car and batted away a section of the fence and mailbox out of blind rage. The owners of the home, husband and wife, were both stunned in disbelief and terror as the thing lumbered toward them with big, meaty, four fingered hands reached out to grab them like snacks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh hell no!” Amanda blurted out as she started running toward the threat, with wand in hand and fire in her heart. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A-Amanda!” Constanze said with surprise and concern, though she really should have expected this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright out there!? Do I need to call the police!?” Ms. Gibson asked from afar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think they could handle this!” The distant sound of sirens and more chaos unfolding only reinforced that claim. “Stay inside!” Constanze urged while spinning around to rush for her blaster-frame. She slotted her wand into it and pumped it once, then she thanked the Nine that it was still charged. Another heel pivot brought her to face the garage door and she sprinted out clumsily as her mind struggled to move at the pace her body needed to. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were petrified, almost literally. The cyclops’ baleful stare had the ability to freeze any who looked directly back into its eye. They weren’t ice, but the poor innocents who had been chosen for death couldn’t move. Their minds screamed to run, flee in terror, call the authorities, anything! Do anything but sit still and let them be killed, but to no avail. The craggy hands of the cyclops drew so very close as it reached out toward the porch while hunched over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BANG! BANG!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two different blasts sounded off then. The first was from Amanda who stood down the street from the cyclops with Constanze by her side who fired the second. The fireball struck true against their foe, but it hit one of the many crags around the side of its neck and head, while the magical-slug bore shattered some of the stones on the back of its hand. The creature recoiled with a boorishly confused groan. It examined its hand and then looked about with a bellowed fury before settling on Constanze and Amanda. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey! Jackass!” Amanda said while minding the focus of her own eye; she knew how they worked, but she never had faced one in combat. The cyclops squinted ruefully and stomped twice, first with its left leg, then its right, like a sumo wrestler. Then came its spittle filled roar to the sky. Amanda twirled her wand before preparing another wordless spell. “You with me sis?” The neighbors, now free of the freezing curse, promptly shut themselves inside and barricaded the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze pumped her blaster once more and steadied her aim. “Mmmm.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Got a plan?” The cyclops started toward them, slow at first. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mm-mm.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Make it up as we go along?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like my kinda plan!” Then it started charging! Amanda and Constanze both lept to their right and left respectively. The cyclops smashed both of their raised fists into the ground where they once stood, making a small crater in the asphalt-pavement. From its flanks, Amanda and Constanze made their plays. Firebolts and magic slugs were peppered into its sides and and toward the head, but they quickly found that to be a useless tactic as the monster stood upright and shook off the blows like a wet dog. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Its back was heavily armored too, of course. The only weak points would be up front, perfectly in sight of its petrifying eye. It turned to Constanze first. “Don’t look in its eye!” Amanda called out just in time. Constanze turned down just enough to avoid the freezing effect, but when she was aiming a gun and not a more general spell, seeing what she was aiming at was pretty important. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cyclops roared again, and with surprising speed, it lurched for the engineering witch with a low right hook. Constanze turned her gaze further groundward as she ran forward, thinking it unlikely that she could have dodged backward and stayed safe. She shot upward twice into its belly; at least it was a big target! The slugs dug deep into the flesh, but not deep enough. Flecks of blubber and blood spilled out below; the wounds were superficial. “Scheiße!” Now she was in stomp range, and the cyclops took full advantage. Its right foot was raised high and came down with extreme force. Constanze only managed to survive by way of Amanda’s aid; she had called on a wind spell to blow Constanze away and to her sister’s side to the cyclops’ left. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I got yah!” Amanda reassured before levelling another offensive spell at the confused titan. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Ars!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She began before twirling around once and drawing a magical sigil in the air. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“IMPLODERA!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> A small vacuum formed by the clycops’ foot as it was raised again; the monster had been checking its foot to scrape off the remains of Constanze it expected to find, but found only an implosion to knock it off balance! It screamed and bellowed in pain while stumbling backward before crashing past the guard rails on the other side of the road, taking three telephone poles with him as the electrical lines sparked and flashed. “Your up, Conz!” Amanda shouted as she prepared a wind spell on her wands tip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda didn’t need to tell her twice, for while the monster was falling to the earth, Constanze was already running forward like a disciplined soldier. When she was about halfway to the fallen and writhing body of the cyclops, Amanda moved her wand casting arm in a triangle shape and cast the spell. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Typerius Phos Ellera!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The version of the spell created a small cycline below Constanzes’ feet and sent her high in the air. While airborne, the gun-toting witch aimed one clean shot into the cyclops’ eye and blew herself back in the air from the blast of her weapon. The slug shattered the creature's eye, rendering it blind. The thrashing and howling that ensued had it tearing up the earth and streetside where it had fallen while Constanze summoned a section of the earth below her to rise up and catch her fall. She stumbled on the spire, but managed to keep her balance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda ran to the base of the tower and beckoned for Constanze to jump down. When she did, Amanda caught her with the help of more wind magic, and promptly set her aside safely. Then she looked to her feet and picked up the half broken pole of a stop sign. “Oi, Conz!” She held it out, her sister knowing well what to do next. Constanze threw her blaster over her shoulder and held her hands out to be a few inches from the unevenly sharpened metal pole. Her eyes squinted nearly shut as she muttered transfiguring incants under her breath. The metal became wobbly, liquid like, before reforming into a makeshift spear. It was more like a harpoon really, but without the chain to real it in; it would do. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The witches then turned as the rumbling grew closer. The cyclops had stood up and started striking wildly with wanton fury! Its left fist, covered in crags, smashed into the earthen spire beside them before its right one came down hard like a thundering hammer to the road. The blast sent shrapnel, and the witches, away with ease, their yells joining the incoherent chorus of screams and shrieks in the night. Constanze was sent back into a small and thin tree that was bent somewhat over from her colliding with it, and was subsequently stunned, while Amanda rolled along the road, earning a nasty few scrapes on her way down. Amanda managed to recover mid roll at the least, using a simple spell to smooth out the asphalt so her feet wouldn’t be torn to shreds when she stabilized in a low crouch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cyclops continued its wild rampage, knocking aside one of the crushed cars. Amanda had to blast aside the tossed vehicle with a hasty surge of raw arcane energy so as to not be crushed. From there, she readied her transformed spear and made a measured run toward the cyclops. She stopped part way through and chucked the spear like a javelin, striking the cyclops squarely in the center of the neck where the crags gave way to softer skin. The cyclops grabbed at the new wound with its large hands as it gasped for breath. Now that she’d been given some space, Constanze was able to shake her senses back into order and aimed her blaster from her sitting position at the bleeding neck of the creature. Three slugs and a lightning bolt of fire from Amanda ended its life, blasting its face apart, leaving only a concave skull that burned with unnatural flame. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To say all was quiet then would be a grave lie though, for small skirmishes like this were happening across town. As far as they knew, they were the only witches around, and the gunshots they could hear were very few and far between. Amanda and Constanze both breathed heavily and met by the corpse of the cyclops. They gave each other knowing looks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was going to be another long night.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>One and a half hours later….</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The overnight drive did Maxwell no favors. He wanted this leg of the trip to be done with; it had been a mixed bag in terms of results. He’d found a few groups of individual witches, none of which were formally associated outside of friend groups or particular families, but they were also torn on what to do. Many were fleeing to countries like Italy, Mexico, Chile, Taiwan, and Morocco, as they’d been making clear statements and demonstrations as “safe havens” for witches and the magically borne Fae. Various other nations too had lax or otherwise very welcoming stances on magic, but they were currently wrapped up in too much political strife to really be considered safe for most dispossessed migrants; Iraq and Greece were prime examples. Maxwell still wasn’t so sure about that; were the peoples of those nations genuine in their concern and welcoming of magic back to the world, or were those statements honeyed words of powerful men and women who would only use magic to further oppressive ends. He couldn’t be sure, and neither could any until they went to see for themselves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Many others were set in their ways; they would “weather the storm,” as it were. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“They came for us in the dark ages! They came for us during the colonial days! They came for us when the Great War took hold, and by the Nine, they can try and come for us again; they won’t win!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Maxwell was pleasantly surprised by that sentiment, but he believed the praxis to be all off. Many of those who shared that “hold the line” mindset were parts of ancient bloodlines, unwilling to give up their homes and communities. Maxwell could understand that well enough, but he could only hope that, should they ever be called on to aid in a greater conflict, that they would rise to the occasion and aid the common man. At least some of the witches he encountered agreed to join his cause. They would start small, of course, but it only took one passionate flame standing against the darkness to ignite the hearts of millions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“We can’t just withdraw to our dens.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Maxwell thought with a sigh as his rickety green truck buckled over a pothole or two. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“They’ll smoke us out quicker than ever if things get as bad as they seem to be. We need to unite ourselves, bring back the old covenants and alliances.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He repeated to himself both as a reminder of his mission and as a reminder for his downtrodden morale, that any battle could be won. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“All that is demanded of those who seek to defeat evil, is that they stand up, and fight.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He repeated one of the Orders’ creeds as further reinforcement for his spirit.</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Along the dimly lit country roads he went, passing by a sign at the crest of a hill: “WELCOME TO PORTHCURNO.” Beyond it lay the town in question. Three plumes of smoke could be seen from different parts of the town, though no raging fires seemed imminently present. Maxwell slowed the vehicle and pulled to the side of the road. He rubbed his eyes with his liver-spotted hands and groaned tiredly; was he seeing this correctly? “Quite a lot of fires…. All in one night?” None of this felt right. The electricity was out in many buildings as well, or at least they had gone dark. Maxwell would need to get closer to get a real understanding of what was happening. “Suppose I should have known I may need this….” He regarded his old-oak staff that had been wrapped in a tarp and laid up against the passenger seat. Hopefully his suspicions were wrong, and this was just a series of freak fires or mundane accidents that could be handled by the authorities. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell started his truck back up and made his way into town then. His eyes were more open now, and his arcane senses were cast out to catch whiff of anything magical in nature. A few minutes passed and he was within the suburbs of the town proper, not that Porthcurno was very bustling in its center, but it clearly looked more dense than the outskirts where he was now. His truck slowly went down the streets, deeper into town, and as he did so, he noticed that a good amount of driveways were without vehicles. Some had their doors flung wide open with the lights still on, but the owners were nowhere in sight. Then came one house that had a hole in the ceiling; he estimated it was about ten foot wide in all directions unevenly, something had broken through it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell stopped his truck in front of that same house and examined it more closely. Some windows had been broken, the door was wide open, and again, no human life was in sight. He hummed grimly to himself before stepping out of the vehicle, rounding it, and taking out his head-height, simple wooden staff, carved with three markings of olde Gaelic origin. He then wrapped the staff against the pavement twice. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Ilumin.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He flatly incanted, calling a mage-light to the top of the staff that ended in a naturally gnarled bulb. With greater vision, he felt safe enough to trek up the gravel drive through and toward the one-floor house. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell kept his offensively minded spells at the tip of his tongue. It had been long since he hunted anything, let alone sparred or battled with magic in general, but he had remained sharp enough in his memory and arcane skill that he would be no pushover to whatever it was that seemed to have the town so spooked. He came to the opened door and creaked it open with a tap from his staff before peering inside. He hesitated to call out for any survivors, fearing they may strike at him out of panic, or that whatever had driven them off still lurked within. He stroked his unruly beard once before nodding to himself. “Nothing to do but enter then….” He murmured idly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With just a few steps inside and the use of telekinetic magics, he could tell that the power had been cut off here. No matter how many of the light switches he tried from across the room through the power of his mind and magic alone, nothing turned on. His steps echoed in the building, and Maxwell found himself feeling that familiar tension and dread that he had as a young hunter in the order back during the thirties. He’d been hardened by experience, but nothing quite removed the fear from unknown and strange situations. Then the smell struck his nose; blood in the air, fresh gore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell grimaced as his senses were rebuffed. He held his staff in both hands now and began to mutter channelling words as to prepare magic before the proper cast. He rounded a corner that led into the kitchen and found the location of the hole in the ceiling. Someone, likely a bald, middle aged man of pale complexion by looks of the body, had been crushed by the entrance of whatever it was that came into his house. His head, the back of it at least, was stuck out along with his right arm, but his scalp had been gnawed and chewed by something clearly inhuman. Maxwell knelt down and ran through the possibilities. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were claw marks beside on the tile floor, marking where the attacker fled, and they led to a window in view that had been smashed open, and the wall beside was torn open to accommodate its size. “Too big to be a werewolf…. Not even a half moon, too early to transform.” Maxwell’s right hand kept a hold of the staff while his left touched the wounded man's head and pressed hard enough to find weak points in the skull. “It merely killed. No signs of consumption, and barrowlisks are never this destructive….” Things weren’t adding up and his otherwise vast knowledge on all things monstrous and Fae was failing him. There were no other signs of clues that could be found easily, and given the wider state of the town, there was no time for an in depth investigation. “Have to keep moving.” He sighed. “My apologies.” He said while fetching a nearby kitchen towel to cover the dead man’s head out of respect. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell was back outside in a minute or two then and mounted up his truck once more. He didn’t bother to re-wrap his staff, he had a bad feeling he’d need it. The rickety green truck sputtered back to life and started down the road once more. Deeper into town he went, and that’s when the sounds of distant yelling could be heard. Finally, signs of human life were showing. People were boarding up their houses with just about anything they could find while others, like Maxwell, were drawn to the riotous sounds near the town square. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Upon arriving near the town hall, the source of the yelling was made clear: A hundred or more civilians, and some emergency response personnel, were loosely gathered around and trying to figure out what had happened. Others, furious and armed with improvised weapons, were being fended off as they called for the heads of two individuals in particular who were awkwardly held up by the corpses of several giant manti, who by no means were local to this region. Their bright yellow and green insectoid bodies occasionally twitched, and were covered in vital fluids from their own and others’ bodies. The individuals near the bodies appeared to be a witch, clearly noted by her wand, with flamingo colored hair, and another beside who was quite short, carried some kind of gun, and had dark grey hair with a bow tying it all up. Maxwell could sense magic on the shorter one too, but she wielded it differently in that device of hers, and so he hadn’t realized her own potential to be a witch at first. Both of them were wounded, but not gravely so, and seemed equally confused as to what to do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His truck came to a halt just by the entrance to the square, which was really just a large circle with a large tree in the center and the town hall flanked by other civil service buildings. When he stepped out of his truck, he could hear some notable phrases being shouted above the general noise:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“THOSE WITCHES BROUGHT THOSE THINGS HERE!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ARE YOU IDIOTS GOING TO ARREST US, OR THEM!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“MY HOUSE! MY WIFE! </span>
  <em>
    <span>THEY</span>
  </em>
  <span> DID THIS!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The police and firemen were torn between the parties. A good many of them wanted nothing more than to arrest and trial these witches, or maybe just execute them on the spot for what had happened, but some others had been aided by them, or at least seemed to distrust the notion that they were behind it. The crowds were generally in favor of taking the two individuals prisoner though, and that had Maxwell unsure of how to get himself involved. He wasn’t sure if he could bring himself to harm a civilian, even if they were coming at him with ill intent. He could disable them surely, as harmlessly as possible, but there were just so many people, and he knew how bad riots could get. For now, either by way of his old age or the dimmed flames of passion, Maxwell would reside on the edge of the conflict and observe it. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Still don’t got a plan?” Amanda asked wearily as she backed up closer to the central tree, nearly tripping over one of the hacked up limbs of the giant mantis behind her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“N-Not really. Didn’t think…. Mmmm….” Words failed her, but Amanda got the gist. How could anyone in their shoes have predicted that saving the town would have ended up with them as the prime suspects. They’d blasted almost a dozen raging monsters tonight, and sent three more packing by way of the air; several were-bats had dropped them off and picked up, a clear sign of the Bathory's involvement in this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze and Amanda both were tired. The fighting had done a number on their bodies, and they were already deprived of a good night's sleep. Now the townsfolk were about to be upon them. Amanda thought they may just need to book it out of there, hope they could outrun and impede the masses with magical barriers and blockages, but they were totally surrounded and running low on strength to call on such impressive spells at a whim. It didn’t help that a green truck just blocked off the only semi-clear road. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“There’s gotta be a way out of this….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda thought hastily as her eyes scanned the surrounding area. Then an idea came to her as a nearby fireman started talking through a megaphone.. “Oi, Conz, you know that spell to make a… like…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A magic megaphone! You know! Like the one Chariot would use when shit got crazy!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mm!” Constanze remembered it well, by chance, and removed her wand from her blaster to summon it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Dufala!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She incanted, summoning the bright teal instrument to her hands before handing it off to Amanda. “Plan?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just watch.” Amanda didn’t have the time or know-how to properly explain her thought process, but she felt it was best to try and win the crowds over to her side. They still needed help, even if the immediate dangers had been bested or fled. She clambered up the tree in the center of the square with one free arm and her well trained physique to bat at about twelve feet off the ground. </span>
  <b>“OOOOOIIIII!”</b>
  <span> She shouted through the phone, blasting louder than any of the mundane megaphones ever could have. Everyone either clamped their hands over their ears and bent over or spun around with fright at the sudden noise of the peaking microphone static. </span>
  <b>“Uhh, sorry about that! Didn’t think this would be that loud!” </b>
  <span>Amanda minded her volume from then on, but her statement only served to confuse everyone further. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze squinted up at Amanda and threw her arms up dumbfoundedly. Amanda could only shrug in response. </span>
  <b>“O-Ok! So! Let me get two things straight here! One</b>
  <b>—” </b>
  <span>The broken bottle that was hurled at her mercifully missed, though she instinctively ducked once she saw it coming her way regardless. </span>
  <b>“Oi! Quit that! We ain’t here to hurt anyone!”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bullshit!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Witchy cunts!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll make ye pay for all this!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda was stunned briefly by the barrage of insults and accusations. She needed breathing room. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Should have taken a fucking public speaking course back at</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
  <span> One slug fired into the air from Constanze followed by her whistling for their attention. That shut </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> up. Constanze then turned up to Amanda and gave a nod. Amanda smiled nervously and returned the nod before speaking again. </span>
  <b>“OK! So we </b>
  <b>
    <em>aren’t</em>
  </b>
  <b> here to hurt you! Here’s proof: How many among all of you saw us </b>
  <b>
    <em>actively</em>
  </b>
  <b> fighting these things? Raise your hands!” </b>
  <span>Twenty seconds passed where everyone exchanged stares and wondered what to do before those who did indeed see the dynamic duo fighting raised their hands. Amanda noticed an old man with hard eyes and a scraggly beard raised his hand too, but she didn’t remember seeing him. She ignored it though, all that mattered was the count: Thirty people total; that was a sizable group. </span>
  <b>“Alright, and two, if we </b>
  <b>
    <em>were</em>
  </b>
  <b> here to hurt you guys, why haven’t we attacked anyone?”</b>
  <span> Again, another short minute passed where people exchanged ideas and sentiments. Some small arguments broke out, but eventually most came to a conclusion that it wouldn’t make sense for witches to try and befriend the townspeople they were attacking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then came a man reeking of booze. “Shen why diz ya kick me dog!?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up Wallace, I found you passed out by the Greggs when all of this started! And you don’t have a dog!” The drunk man bowed his head and backed away into the crowd. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda shook her head, clearing her thoughts of any more distractions and naysaying internal voices. </span>
  <b>“So let’s stop arguing and start coming up with a plan!”</b>
  <span> There was some confusion in the crowd on what they were planning for, and so AManda clarified. </span>
  <b>“Look, we know why these things are attacking! It’ll sound crazy, so we can explain later, but for now you just need to know that they might attack again!”</b>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It's some sort of thing you crazy witches at Luna Nova caused, isn’t it!?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Amanda could respond, Constanze was shouting with a cold and focused fury that Amanda had ever seen. “They’re the same monsters that destroyed Ludinghal! I know that because my family was there! I saw the videos. I know what happened.” She scanned the crowd and found the woman who had called out in accusation of the Luna Nova witches. She was far more careful with her words now. “You can waste your time hurting the people that want to help you and let more innocent people die the next time they come, or you can let us help.” She handed it back over to Amanda with a thumbs up signal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“Thank you.” </b>
  <span>Amanda cleared her folk, remembering to move the megaphone while doing so. </span>
  <b>“Let’s get focused people! Obviously no one could have been prepared for this. Let’s fix that and work on protecting everyone! First off, we need to get everyone in the town alerted that all of the weird ass monsters have gone. Then we can help those who wanna flee and go somewhere else be on their way; no shame in running if you ain’t ready to fight. Then the people who are staying behind can work with us. We ain’t about to leave y’all hanging!”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And who the hell are you to be giving orders!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda put on her classically confident grin. </span>
  <b>“I’m Amanda-Freakin-O’Neill, a witch who’s been from, here to Cali and Turkey and back three times over! I’ve seen weirder shit than most of y’all have dreamed of, and I came out on top, solving things for the better!” </b>
  <span>Her confidence was infectious, convincing, and beyond reproach. Who was to argue with her? </span>
  <b>“I’ve saved a town from zombies, helped get rid of a deadly sphinx, and a whole helluva lot more! I’ve done damn fine work informing average joes like yourselves how to live safe with magic runnin’ wild and free again! If you don’t trust me, or won’t even hear me and my sister out, then be my guest and run, but I doubt the military’s gonna know what to do about this!” </b>
  <span>Mixed feelings on the matter rumbled around the square, but it was clear that there were those who would staunchly defend Porthcurno and those who would hedge their bets and leave, mostly those with families, and they couldn’t be blamed. </span>
  <b>“If a vagrant witch like me can hold their ground, then so can you! So come on, let’s get this mess sorted!” </b>
  <span>She raised her megaphone wielding hand high in two fist-pumps.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh, how the flame in her soul was stoked! Jehanne would be proud. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a passionate speech, but they were still hesitant. Arguments began again, shoves were exchanged, and unrest was in the air. Luckily, two trusted and well respected members of the community had come to offer their aid. Benjamin was on a simple bicycle, ringing a dinky bell on it like a newspaper boy back in the day as he rode toward the crowd. “Hold it! Hold it now!” Winnie was struggling to keep up behind him with a bike of her own, huffing and puffing along. The crowd parted on the southern street, allowing the two to make their way in. To their surprise, Benjamin and Winnie rode toward the center and parked their bicycles beside Constanze and Amanda. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just… one… moment!” Winnie urged as she gasped for air. “We can… vouch for them! They’re good… witches!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye, they’re propah’ friends of our family.” Benjamin added. “Witches’ve done us only good in the past! Come now, tell me: Have any of ye actually met a witch who did you wrong?” The crowds could not refute him, and the two Gibsons were quite the figures in the community. Winnie was a well respective “mother to all,” and Benjamin was… well, a bit of a loon, but one with the best of intentions and no real ability to harm anyone who didn’t have it coming. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I saw them myself! Took down a </span>
  <em>
    <span>huge </span>
  </em>
  <span>monster they did, just by my house! Saved the Wittickers in doin’ so! I’m sure you could go ask them if you needed more proof.” Winnie finally found her voice and breath enough to raise it above the noise in the crowd. She shot a pleasant smile the way of Constanze and Amanda, who returned the expression in kind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze raised her voice once more, pushing past her anxiety through determination to see this town aided; she wouldn’t let another Ludinghal incident go down if she could help it. “We’re fighting for you, but we can’t stay here! We’ll do what we can. You need to be able to defend yourselves. Our friends are in danger, but we won’t leave you behind!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now the tide had turned in the witches favor. Much of the citizenry was in agreement; the detached government forces, who outright rejected and suppressed magical studies and practice, were unlikely to come to a small-town like Porthcurno’s aid. Beyond that, they may have been well trained and armed for fighting other soldiers, but these beings, fair and fel, were of a different caliber and breed. You couldn’t apply the same strategies to fighting them, and some had abilities and magic of their own that could shift the tide of a standard engagement within milliseconds just from one wrong move. The loss of life of those who tried to fight back without a plan or preparation was proof of that danger, and the witches before them had proven their intentions good, not just with words, but with deeds that inspired other townsfolk to speak on their behalf.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Porthcurno would stand strong against this storm and weather it, with the witches who had saved them as their guides. Their prejudices and mindsights wouldn’t be fully changed that day, but just like Amanda and Constanze, they were beginning to realize the importance of united communities. 
 </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Amanda jumped down from the tree then and began barking orders out to split the people off into two groups. Those staying would remain in the square, while the others would flee to assemble their belongings that they would take with them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once the defenders and runners had been separated, Constanze got the defending group to split into three smaller cohorts that would fan through the town and spread the world, get everyone informed and help rally the hiding townspeople. Two would do just that, while the third would aid in procuring transport out of town as many cars had been destroyed in the attack. The plan was in motion and would develop further from there as the day went on. Not only did leaders and craftsmen in the community offer their expertise and insight, but all present who offered their ideas were considered. The optimal defense would be made from that query, after much deliberation and arguing, of course. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then came execution: There were holdouts to be fashioned and weapons to distribute; transfigured by Constanze, fashioned from simple tools, or readily available from the police armory. Most importantly though, those who chose to flee would be escorted out to hopefully safer pastures up north. London was no doubt the safest place to be, but it was also a prime site for unrest to bubble over; everyone could only hope that all would be well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell, still a stranger to both of the witches who had taken charge in spurring this town’s defence, did all he could to aid while among the crowds. He offered his magicks, but found himself often separated from Amanda and Constanze, despite his efforts to speak to them in private. They weren’t hardened, veteran witches, but they had fire in their hearts (literally in Amanda’s case), and could clearly hold themselves in fights that would see many witches severely wounded or worse. Above all else, Maxwell could ask for nothing more than fighters who knew the value of rallying the common man. His own heart and spirit, which had become fraught with pessimism and resigned sorrow, felt a flame being sparked anew. He could only have wanted a day like this to have come to pass under less dire circumstances. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell would see Amanda and Constanze later that night, once the work of the day had passed, and Porthcurno had been made into a well armed and well defended community, all things considered.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nearly fourteen hours later….</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda fell back into a rolling chair with an exacerbated sigh. She slowly spun about in her seat as her weight caused it to pivot and slide backward in the relatively empty office. Constanze was with her, working on fixing up a few useful gadgets from various parts and tools the townspeople had donated to the effort of arming and preparing themselves. Some were generous enough to give Constanze the spare tools directly, after she explained her hardships and the threat that loomed over Luna Nova; everyone knew they faced impossible odds and would need every bit of aid they could get. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two witches were held up in the borough hall and had decided to resign for a time in one of the many offices that had been stripped of everything but the chair and desk. Many of the defenders were barricaded in the central part of town, working in shifts almost around the clock to make sure that doors were secure, supplies were gathered and plentiful, and other auxiliary defenses continued to be erected. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was nearly nineteen hundred hours, seven at night, and only then had Constanze and Amanda found a reprieve. They’d been asked a million questions and answered them as best they could. The labor was hard and long, but the townspeople had come around to them over the past day. They’d given gifts and supplies to spare, though most were rejected either out of not needing them or lacking the ability to transport them. All in all, they felt like they did good work. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ughhhh….” Though their muscles, bones, and heads ached for just one night of uninterrupted sleep. “Do you plan on workin’ all through the night…?” Amanda asked lazily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmmm….” Constanze considered the idea but thought better of it. “Need to rest… so….” She yawned loudly and leaned up against the wall. “Tired….” Her eyes drifted back down to the make-shift grapple-gun in her hand, made to replace the one she left back at Luna Nova, and the thing looked wholly inscrutable. It was like she’d never screwed something together; her mind shut down, enough was enough. Constanze slid down along the wall until she was sitting and undid her backpack, setting it to her side. She put the gizmos and gadgets she was working with away and zipped it up before promptly using that same backpack as a very uncomfortable, but very enticing, pillow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Saaaaaame…. Oh god.” Amanda yawned while speaking and shook her head clear afterward. “Should we head back to Ms. G’s?” Benjamin had gone to </span>
  <em>
    <span>great</span>
  </em>
  <span> lengths to make his sister’s home a near impenetrable fortress. How he got the materials is still beyond anyone’s guessing, though Amanda had the sneaking suspicion that he had been pack-ratting all of that stuff in his “shack” down by the shore for years now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.” Constanze nodded. She fumbled to find her notepad and pen and wrote out, in possibly her worst handwriting possible. “No more talking from me today. Maybe for a week.” She felt she might lose her voice from how much she’d been using it these past few days. In her mind at least, it was a testament to how comfortable she had become in her own skin and with her friends, and now, her sister. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eheh, can’t blame ya.” Amanda closed her eyes, already drifting off to the gentle embrace of sleep in the surprisingly comfy office chair. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Knock, knock, knock!I</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ughhh….” So much for that. “Who’s there? We’re kinda exhausted.” Amanda complained, not wanting to shoo away a concerned citizen, but also knowing that she wasn’t exactly useful while she was this weary. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahem.” An older gentleman’s voice began through the door. “I’m not… from around here, but I saw what you did, what you’re capable of. And I’ve heard of your plight…. Perhaps I could help you, from one witch to another.” He sounded Scottish.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda’s eyes closed at first, expecting for this to be some benign question from an older man who knew nothing of what was happening, but her eyes went wide when he mentioned his status as a witch. Constanze too sprang to her feet and held up a more properly written message. “Let him in?” Amanda nodded, and so Constanze turned the handle-knob downward and opened it wide to catch sight of the visitor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was a man with hard eyes, a mildly gaunt face with small liver spots here and there along the nose, cheek, and hands. A heavy winter coat with a flannel plaid patterned button down was visible underneath, and he wore simple workmans pants. If it weren’t for the Gaelicly inscribed wooden staff that appeared more ancient than he who wielded it, he would have likely been mistaken for an old farmer or woodsman. There was something off about his right hand as well; it was marked on the back with an insignia that neither could really make out from where they stood or sat respectively. He stepped inside with a similarly tired air about him, though he was clearly mustering all of his attention to appear as awake and alert as possible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell cleared his throat once more into a fist balled before his mouth and bowed his head gently toward Amanda and Constanze. “I am Maxwell Glendenning, and I’m so very glad to be meeting you.” His serious tone betrayed the joy he had for this momentous meeting. “Might I know your names?” He looked to Amanda then, “Assuming that ‘freakin’ isn’t your middle name.” and smiled warmly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda nearly tripped as she stood herself up from the chair and stumbled over to Constanze’s side. Her sister caught her though and kept their collective balance in check with a grunt of effort. Then they looked to Maxwell with mixed expressions of attempts at seriousness, withheld chuckling, and mismanaged embarrassment on Constanze’s and Amanda’s parts respectively. “Y-Yeah! My name’s Amanda O’Neill…. Uhh, the freakin’ part’s just uh… look I get psyched up when I say it like that is all.” She rubbed the back of her head while explaining, her eyes wandering to avoid what she expected to be a judgemental gaze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell could only laugh heartily in response though. “It’s quite alright Ms. O’Neill.” He gave her another nod in understanding before looking to Constanze. “And you: You’re the sister of Amanda here….” He considered his staff for a moment in thought, closing one eye as he did so. “I suppose I shouldn’t be saying ‘Ms. O’Neill’ then, it would just get confusing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm?” Constanze cocked her head, but quickly realized what he meant. She wrote out her reply with haste. “Amanda and I aren’t blood related.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm? But you’re sisters, yes?” Maxwell asked with the hope that he hadn’t been imagining what Amanda said in the square. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.” Constanze nodded. “It’s complicated. We’ve known each other for a long time. Really close.” She flipped to the next page to continue her written speech. “My name is Constanze.” She didn’t have the energy to write out her full name unless it was requested. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahhh, I see. It’s a pleasure, both of you.” Maxwell assured. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Soooo, you wanted to see us then? About our problem?” Amanda asked hesitantly. She wanted allies of course, but it was still strange to be approached by a stranger like this seemingly from nowhere, even after having spent a day helping strangers themselves. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye. From what I heard, the locals say that vampires were responsible for this.” Maxwell took on a much more serious tone now, and his hardened features reflected this. “Though I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of vampires employing such eclectic forces as minions. Their powers of seduction range only to humans and some Fae.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahh jeez, guess we’d have to explain this the long way eventually….” Amanda sighed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze wrote out a message for Amanda. “We should make a recording so we can play it back every time we need to fill someone in.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You got a recorder….” Constanze looked around absentmindedly before shrugging. “Thought so. Long way it is!” Amanda casually fell back into her chair while Constanze went outside to fetch two more and sat herself down beside her sister; behind the desk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell slowly lowered himself onto the procured seat, now across from them with the desk in between, and asked: “Is it really that complicated?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well it’s pretty fuckin’ weird, I can tell you that.” Amanda held her head up with one arm while the other dangled off of the side of the chair. “So get comfy, because I’m gonna try and explain this as simply as possible and probably fail horribly.” Her brain felt kinda like mush, so it was understandable. “So you know about Luna Nova, obviously.” God she hoped that was obvious.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Course.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank god, ok, so: It started with these three weird witches, alright?” </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Five minutes later….</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And NOW we’re here.” Amanda said before sighing exhaustedly. Constanze hadn’t even said a word let alone written one, and even she was tired after that explanation. It wasn’t even that long, they were just getting tired of repeating themselves. “We’re kinda lost, kinda out gunned, pretty fuckin’ outnumbered, and without much of a plan outside of finding some friends to help us clean this mess up before all hell breaks loose.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell blinked twice. He didn’t actually think that the situation could have been this grave. He hadn’t even been informed of the strangeness in the sanctum or the specific identity of the attackers, but without that information, the weight of the knowledge felt overbearing. “Nine forfend! How could something like this have happened so suddenly!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze wrote out a note. “Did anyone expect the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Noir Rod</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” When Maxwell tapped his forehead thoughtfully, only to fail to find an answer, Constanze continued writing. “Like that, but with vampires, and a weird coven of really hateful witches.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I suppose that’s a fair point, but, truly, these are dark days for witches.” Maxwell ruefully shook his head, grumbling with old-man annoyance at the world that had labeled him and his kindred witches as unnatural threats. “And you mean to take the fight to them all on your own?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, like I said:” Amanda began as she sat upright in her chair. “We need help. We’ll fight tooth and nail for that school and everyone in it, but we aren’t miracle workers.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell nodded approvingly. Their valor was certainly something to be praised. “I look around though and I see a once quiet and ignorant town awakened, spurred by your actions and words no less!” He gestured the gnarled-top-end of the staff toward the sister witches. “That’s nothing short of miraculous in my book.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both Constanze and Amanda smiled, though only the former replied; in written form. “After what happened at Ludinghal, I can’t stand by and watch another innocent town burn.” Constanze wouldn’t have done that even if her blood family’s home still stood, but now it meant something more. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Maybe if witches like us were there, it could have been prevented. Lives could have been saved.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She understood all too well now the value that witches had in the world, but more so, she was beginning to see the power that every human had when matters were taken into the masses’ hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm…. It’s a damn shame what happened there.” Maxwell began with genuine sympathy to his voice. “I do not mean to pry, but I was at the square when I saw you rallying the town…. I’m… sorry for your loss.” He solemnly bowed his head as if to offer a moment's silence for the deceased. A moment or so later, he raised his gaze back up and continued. “And if what you’ve told me is true, if these vampires and witches are working together, then you no doubt have a grudge to settle.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze turned her gaze to the side and hummed uncomfortably. She could not deny his words, but she was still wary of her own vengeful tendencies as of late. “How… can you help us?” And so she changed the subject, forcing the words from her mouth to do so.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell took the hint and obliged with an answer that he hoped would satisfy. “When I introduced myself, I gave you my name, but I did not tell you everything.” He watched as Amanda and Constanze both became more defensive in their posture. “I hid nothing wicked from you, I promise. I’m not here to swindle or sway you. I am here as one of the few remaining representatives of a long dead order of witches and warriors; an order I would see revived by new blood such as yourself. I come from—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Amanda! Constanze!” Lotte’s magical panel appeared between the sisters and Maxwell; the Finnish witch had her hands raised by her neck and balled in eager fists. She had tired eyes, but the way she spoke made it seem like she had won a great victory; her work and research was tireless this past day.  “I’ve got some info on the Bathorys, some helpful notes about vampires! I’m going to… up… load….” Lotte’s determined and fast speaking slowed when she realized that Amanda and Constanze weren’t alone. Her display flitted to the side and she took in the sight of Maxwell with a sheepish smile. “Uhhh, hey there!” She waved. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bathory?” Maxwell raised a brow and leaned back in the chair with astonishment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“L-Lotte! Do you… really have no way to ‘ring’ us before you just appear?” Amanda was glad as ever to be hearing back from her bookworm friend, but she wished Lotte didn’t always show up so suddenly during important conversations. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry! Sorry!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Constanze held up her paper to Lotte. “It’s fine, we were just meeting with a witch who wanted to help us.” Then she held up the next sheet to Maxwell. “Mind if we hear her out first?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But of course! Before that though, you said these vampires were </span>
  <em>
    <span>the </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bathorys, yes? As in Elizabeth Bathory’s family?” Maxwell knew the name well. The legend of the macabre princess who bathed in blood was one that had been spread across the world, but most folks treated it as sensationalized history. The truth was far worse, and Maxwell knew that truth well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…. Um, I mean, is that really bad? Worse than it already is, I mean!” Lotte twirled one of her fingers in her hair as she rearranged some of the printed out texts on her now messy desk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s one thing to be dealing with a large clan of vampires, but the Bathorys are especially cruel and fanatical beyond reason.” Maxwell leaned in, gesturing for effect with his hands. “I had thought them cowed, Elizabeth sealed…. I suppose we could never have kept her chained up forever.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hold up now pal, you said ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>we’</span>
  </em>
  <span> could never have kept her chained up? Who’s we?” Amanda rolled closer and pointed with her right hand as it was bent at the elbow and rested on the desk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze interjected by gently shaking Amanda’s left shoulder. “Let Lotte talk. Figure this out after.” She turned to Maxwell then and offered a nod and grunt as if to suggest he do the same. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell returned the nod and leaned back in his chair, reigning in his sudden anxiety and concern. “Lotte, is it? Do say your piece. What is it you’ve found?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right!” Lotte cleared her throat and adjusted her glasses. “I asked around on tons of forums and dug through the deepest parts of witchnet. A lot of it was… not… very helpful, but I found some really interesting stuff eventually!” She fumbled briefly to sort through the dozens of printed sheets and pages until she had assembled a small packet of five or so in her hands. “I’ll start with what I learned about the Bathorys and recent news…. It’s really creepy how this stuff seems to be coming together.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm?” Constanze cocked her head queerly. Just how </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> this coming together?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll start from the beginning: I’ve got a timeline for the investigation.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Investigation?” Amanda blinked. “I didn’t realize this was a mystery.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s quite… complicated, is all!” Lotte pressed her pointer fingers together innocently. “It’s all stuff I found out after I looked into Čachtice, since I learned it was the old castle the Bathorys used to operate out of. It started simple enough, but the more I found out, the deeper the rabbit hole went.” Lotte gently put her palms to the table then and continued. “It all started about four months ago: There were many reports of missing persons centered around...” Lotte took a moment to pull up and display a separate screen for the trio in Porthcurno. “This region of Hungary.” The map had a strange rhomboid shape drawn on to it, overlaid over the area where Castle Čachtice sat at the center. “Entire houses were found abandoned despite having various reports and witnesses telling authorities that they had spoken with the owners of the homes a day or two before. Everyone was really confused, and the police and government officials there still don’t have a clue about what happened.” Lotte pushed up her glasses then, her bashful expression replaced by that of a stern-faced detective. “So it seemed….” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda and Constanze both gave each other knowing stares. Things were about to get weird. “Fellow vexxers who lived in Hungary were able to check out some of the abandoned homes for the missing persons. The public reports noted no signs of struggle or violence in any of the cases. This held up for the first three houses they talked about, but when they arrived at the fourth, it seemed to be one that was currently under investigation. They had to sneak past all of the active officers on site, and apparently saw the officers scrubbing the house down. One vexxer in particular was able to get close enough to see claw marks, old blood stains, and even two outlines for where bodies would have been. It must have been the scene of a murder, but the local news said it was another instance of an evidenceless disappearance.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is hardly what I expected….” Maxwell wiped his forehead anxiously. “Your saying they were covering up the truth of these attacks?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It gets worse.” Lotte steepled her hands in front of her face and leaned forward. “Apparently, about five months ago, several officials in charge of criminal and, now, </span>
  <em>
    <span>paranormal</span>
  </em>
  <span> investigations in Hungary all fell ill within the span of two weeks. They were hospitalized, supposedly, for sudden cases of the flu, and had all contracted it from one another due to being in constant contact given their related work. Once again though, this is only partly true.” Lotte snapped her fingers, summoning her wand to her hand so that she could bring up another floating panel. This one displayed several detailed medical documents containing notes regarding the patients in question; the “sick” officials. “You’ll see here that none of the symptoms described sound anything like the flu….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda, Constanze, and Maxwell all craned their necks closely to examine the panel. A tap from Constanze’s wand enlarged it and allowed for easier viewing. The notable lines read as follows, translated into English by Lotte’s magic:</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Patients show self destructive behaviors. All show similar symptoms of being either unable or unwilling to leave their beds, constant sweating, complaints of pain in their head and chest, and have a newfound tendency to claw at their arms and legs to the point of bleeding. Patients have been restrained to prevent this, however, sedatives are proving less and less effective. Staff are without a clue as to what this could be. Quarantine is in effect; no access permitted to patients’ rooms without a full hazmat suit. Viral and bacterial infections coming up empty; assuming the worst. This could be a new disease or strain entirely.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> That note was dated for June 1st. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Patients simultaneously began complaining about similar pains originating in their upper jaws, specifically around the canines. Patients have had no contact with one another in any way shape or form. Tests continue to prove inconclusive. Sedatives are no longer viable. Patients are awake at all hours and refuse food and drink; becoming more verbally aggressive. Psychiatric evaluations are near impossible. Quarantine procedures updated: Security personnel will now be required to accompany medical staff into patient’s rooms after patient three broke free of her straps and</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Several lines of notes are blacked out. Dated June fifteenth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jesus….” Amanda held her head in disbelief. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And here’s the last one. Notice the date.” Lotte pulled up one final document.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze squinted. “August twelfth?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s no other documentation on this case between June fifteenth and August twelfth. That’s nearly two months of time that is completely off record for an incident like this which would normally be making national news.” Lotte clarified.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And… how… did you get this?” Maxwell asked with genuine curiosity. “Another… vexxer? Did you call them that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Online forum for witches.” Amanda explained. “But, yeah, how </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> you get this shit? Isn’t this supposed to be, like, super confidential?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, at first, it was a complete roadblock. All I had were the disappearances and the vexxer’s report on the cops scrubbing the crime scene. Then another vexxer came to me with some interesting details…. She said she worked in a hospital in Hungary as part of an initiative to ingratiate witches into the wider medical field; I think Diana’s family had a hand in that particular campaign, but I digress.” Lotte paused to gather her thoughts and examined the notes she’d made. “That program is no longer in effect as of September. Since the vexxer saw my post about searching for more info related to this case, she thought she’d get back at the hospital staff who apparently treated her and the other witches very poorly, even going as far as to have security throw them out on the last day.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell’s brow was knit fiercely. “Throwing a healing witch out like they’re some hooligan!?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Calm down old man.” Amanda raised a warding hand to him until Maxwell sighed defeatedly and laid back in his chair and refocused on the medical documents from earlier. “Keep goin’ Lotte; where’s all this end up?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She gave me her passwords and logins.” Lotte explained. “The hospitals were apparently so quick to end the program that they never went back and deactivated their employee accounts. She didn’t have access to the documents in question, but based on my skills with cyphers and other tricky puzzles, I was able to figure out the pattern for how usernames and passwords were generated. I looked up the names of all medical directors within a thirty mile radius of the zone where all the disappearances were happening and eventually got in.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze rubbed her eyes and cleaned her ears as though she had just heard someone explain to her how pigs </span>
  <em>
    <span>really could fly</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “You know how to…?” Constanze never took Lotte for much of a computer whiz, and while the bookworm witch wasn’t a techie like Constanze, she had a sleuthing skill that went unmatched in the New Nine. “Note to self. Never piss Lotte off.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, no fuckin’ kidding! Lotte, you’re crazy!” Amanda looked on, mouth agape, but soon found herself grinning uncontrollably. “I kinda like this side of you. Wish I got to see it more often!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte suddenly went flush and waved her hands dismissively. “O-Oh! It’s nothing, r-r-really! It’s all just stuff I picked up from solving silly mysteries online….” She smiled nervously before taking a moment to inhale and exhale deliberately. Just like that, she was back in detective mode, albeit with much redder cheeks. “So I rummaged through the documentation to see if there was anything about the coroners disposing of any bodies that could have been from the missing people; that’s when I found all of this completely by accident.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell leaned in then, his own lips pursing as various thoughts ran through his head. Then, his whole posture opened up as something terrible dawned on him. “Hurting canines… sweating… agitation and rage, superhuman strength…. They were turned!” Maxwell exclaimed suddenly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait a…. Shit!” Amanda hadn’t even considered that factor yet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lotte, is he right?” Constanze urged.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was just about to go into that, actually. Look here: This explains everything.” Lotte enlarged that final note dated for August.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Patients showing no adverse symptoms. Ignore prior documentation. Planning for discharge within the hour of writing this notice.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>That was all it said, but it implied so much. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They didn’t just turn, I think they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>willingly</span>
  </em>
  <span> turned. Then, they used their vampiric seduction to convince the hospital staff to let them go free and hide the evidence…. That’s also how they’re probably able to keep the missing person’s investigations in a complete deadlock. They’re working for the Bathorys!” Lotte allowed a pause to break up her words as disbelief and concern flowed through her three compatriots. “And that’s only part of the explanation. My theory is that the Bathorys actually began to make their moves back in May, and only succeeded in taking aggressive action in november, when the disappearances began. I think that most of the crime scenes weren’t actually murders though, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>kidnappings</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Either they were going to be bled dry or turned in to vampires themselves…. Regardless of what the truth is there, we have to take into account that the Bathorys are actively infiltrating government organizations!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And since they’ve come all the way across Europe to reach Luna Nova, then who knows if they’ve meddled in any other nations’ affairs.” Maxwell grimly remarked. “If the attack we witnessed tonight was done by their hand, then we can be certain that England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, and France are not safe from their influence. I doubt this was an isolated incident; reports on the radio today described a sudden surge in magical attacks all over the isles.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And here I thought we’d have all the time in the world!” Amanda lowered her head and put both of her hands on the back of her neck. “Ugh! They’ve got free reign to raise hell all they want!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have to move faster then.” Constanze said while putting a comforting hand on Amanda’s shoulder. “We’ll stop them. We just need a plan.” Then she looked back to Lotte while Amanda sorted through her frustration. “Lotte; the info on vampires. What do you have?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Right!” Lotte scrambled to find the correct tab on her crystal ball, closing the previous two screens of medical notes and maps to present the group with a different screen instead. “I posted a general thread asking about vampires and the Bathorys. I couldn’t get anything different about their history, but I found some interesting notes about vampires! I don’t know how true they are, so maybe you guys could help verify them?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “I’ll regale you three on the Bathorys true history some other time.” Maxwell said before he nodded in agreement to Lotte’s request. “I know much about all sorts of magical creatures, vampires included. They aren’t my specialty, but I can verify this source of yours.” His companion back in the order hall would be a much more reliable source of knowledge on the matter though. Maxwell wished he was not so strictly bound to that place. “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sending it over now!” The singular panel Lotte had made lit up with scanned documents of text written on old parchment. The ink itself seemed fresh though, betraying the age of that which it was penned on. “It seemed kinda weird. The vexxer who sent it had only ever made one post and it was this…. It’s not that uncommon for lurkers to suddenly jump in, or maybe it’s a throwaway account, but they didn’t say anything about that.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze, the savvier of the three when it came to internet decorum, cocked her head. “Weird. What did they say?” Meanwhile, Maxwell focused on reading through the document before him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte tapped her cheek idly. “I thought it was an imp post or something.” Imp being the equivalent term for “troll” in mundane internet terms. “It was attached with a text post that just listed the dictionary definition of the word ‘nudge’ in all-caps….” The user’s name was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Golden Observer</span>
  </em>
  <span>, though Lotte had no idea what to make of that, or if it meant anything at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> weird.” Constanze reiterated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Throw that on the mountain sized pile of weird shit that’s happened to us. Let’s worry about the important stuff. Maxy, is that stuff legit?” Amanda held her chin up with both hands, the will to stay awake faltering in her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell turned aghast at being called “Maxy.” He was worried his mother had just called him in for supper. “It’s as… ‘legit’ as could be hoped for. Though some of the claims seem… dubious at best. I would need to show my closest of comrades this to see if it is true. Might we have a physical copy?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“On it.” Constanze flatly intoned while magically whisking some printer paper out from the desk to be fed through an ethereal “printer.” A minute or so later, the documents were neatly set before the group on the desk, hot and fresh off of the press. “We can read it later. Lotte?”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you tell anyone?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“About…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Everything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“N-Not yet! Should I have? I was worried that… well… I wanted to make sure we figured everything out first before we got everyone scared.” Lotte nervously admitted. “I mean, what if I post something about it, and it blows up? We’re trying to avoid getting the mundane governments involved, right?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’d be a good way to get thrown in jail, that’s for sure.” Amanda sarcastically added. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But you do need allies.” Maxwell stood up and fixed his posture against his wooden staff. “If we can be safe about it, I think that your friend Lotte here should inform as many witches as she can. If you want to retake the island, you’ll need a host of combat able witches; something the magical world hasn’t seen assembled in decades.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can we trust some random witches on witchnet to come help us? And, like, not screw us over?” Amanda stood up then and started walking around the table just to keep herself awake; her hands were held on top of her head. She was getting restless again too, and Constanze could sense that more clearly now that Amanda had informed her of her ticks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze stood as well, mostly because everyone else was standing, and forced herself to speak more clearly. “We have to trust that Lotte can get us the help we need. Her forum friends already got us a lot of information we would have missed. Maybe they’ll be willing to help us in person too.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda sighed heavily, but continued to pace. “I guess. I’m not against it, I’m just… overwhelmed. I feel like my head’s gonna explode from all the shit we had to go through today.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze looked to Maxwell then. “And you said you were with an order; an order that sealed Bathory away. Who, how, and why?” She wasn’t about to forget his earlier comments that Amanda had raised questions over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, what’s up with that?” Amanda turned her head to face Maxwell as she walked back and forth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahh, how we’ve drifted from our original discussion….” Maxwell held one hand by his chest and muttered to himself in quiet thought, retracting his steps back to earlier in the conversation. Suddenly, he started speaking again when he found his place. “I came to recruit you. Plain and simple.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Recruit?” Lotte asked before Constanze and Amanda could utter the words. The two sisters turned to Lotte, expecting her to continue. “O-Oh… uh… should I go now? I told you all I could find out, a-and I’ve got a recruitment post to make now! So….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stay.” Constanze gave a nod and spoke as calmingly as possible. “Want you in on the plan.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“O-Ok! I’ll… be… quiet for this part! Didn’t mean to interrupt!” Lotte sheepishly removed herself from the conversation by scooting her chair backward, only to make a sharp noise of her seats’ wooden legs scraping against the floor. “Sorry!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahem…. As… I was saying.” Maxwell paused to rub his nose. “My order was one which spanned the world. I did not live during its glory days, during the time when magical covens thrived, and humanity lived in relative balance with the arcane forces, despite the wrathful monarchies and their attempts at stomping us out. We defended the people by doing what you just did tonight: Educating and arming them. We would recruit from lands far and wide, gathering up those who would aid in the defense of Fae and Human societies from threats within and without. We urged the people to rebel against the unjust rulers as much as we hunted great and terrible monsters that threatened to lay waste to entire villages.” Just by how his voice became softer, elevated, and passionate, the three witches from Luna Nova could tell he was beginning waxing poetic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Great, but you said that this order was dead. How does that help us right now?” Amanda put her hands to her hips and scoffed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell’s nostalgic optimism drained from his face, only to be replaced by the grim pessimism of the here and now. “I apologize. I forget myself sometimes when remembering how things used to be just a century ago.” The Order was clinging to threads then to, but comparatively to the modern form, it was healthy. “I am gathering witches, ones like you, who want to see the world change; who want to stop the cycles of senseless violence between man and magic. I have few allies, but they can help you, and you can help us in turn, if you would join us.” A tinge of desperation colored the last few words he said. “Please. The Order needs witches like you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so that explains the why.” Amanda began, clicking her lips once in a moment's pause. “What about the who and what? You say your this ‘order’ or whatever,” She made air quotes around the term: Order. “But you never gave us a name, and frankly, I ain’t about to just throw my hat in with anyone.” Amanda was pretty trusting of strangers, but she needed at least some sign of good faith that this wasn’t some ruse or scheme. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell stared blankly to Amanda, appearing dumbfounded. Then he started to chuckle. “I can’t believe it…! I didn’t even mention who we are!” Constanze and Amanda found this less humorous and shared confused looks between each other while Lotte scratched her head. “I apologize, again. My age gets to me, and I’ve not exactly led a very social life.” He smiled earnestly, which served to calm some of the apprehensions the trio before him had. “Allow me to be completely thorough in my introduction then! I am Maxwell Glendenning, an Undertaker in service to The Balefire. In full, we are known as The Order of The Balefire, and we, myself and my closest friend, would be happy to assist you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “The Balefire…?” Constanze had been getting deja-vu from the way he described his order, and the name served to spark something in her memory. She shoved her hands into her pockets in a desperate search for the olde paper that had the crier’s script on it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Meanwhile, Amanda spoke up. “And who’s this friend of yours?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s bound to the nearest Order hall in Scotland. He cannot leave for specific reasons….” Maxwell scratched at his beard, unsure if he should unveil his friend’s secret. Surely, for new recruits to the order, which Maxwell could only hope Amanda and Constanze to be, it would be acceptable to reveal the most basic of secrets, though he was unsure if it would cause problems given the identity of their foe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wow, informative.” Amanda rolled her eyes and then sighed when turning to Constanze. “Well, I don’t mind going to check it….” Her words trailed off after she saw Constanze closely inspecting an old sheet of paper; Amanda didn’t recognize it, but maybe presumed it was something from the sanctum. “Conz, what’re you—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“THE BALEFIRE!” Constanze exclaimed with an enthusiasm and shock that had never been heard in her by Lotte or Amanda; Maxwell jumped in surprise. Even Constanze was surprised by the volume and clarity in her voice just then. She couldn’t take a moment to correct her tone though, this was too important. “Look at this.” She commanded Maxwell, handing him the parchment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell warily accepted the paper and looked to it with confusion at first. His eyes slowly widened. “Is this… an original? A </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> recruitment flyer? From....” He couldn’t put an exact date to it, but estimated it for the 13th century. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Found it in the sanctum of the Nine. Statue to Vaal.” Constanze pointedly remarked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That would only make sense!” Maxwell couldn’t suppress the smile on his face. The prospect of finding relics and historical documents once belonging to the order sent his heart soaring. “Vaal was one of the original founders, she and—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze and Maxwell then spoke at the same time. “Jehanne Du Aquitaine.” That caused Maxwell to stutter and look at Constanze with a deer-caught-in-headlights kind of expression. “Knew it.” Constanze snapped verbally before snapping her fingers literally toward Amanda, pointing at her. “That name. Familiar?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda rubbed her eyes and tilted her head down. The way she raised her brow and shifted her chin made her expression speak for itself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You can’t be serious.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>When Constanze nodded firmly in response, Amanda could only hold her left temple in hand and cock her head to the side. “No fucking way.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Those are the Nine Olde Witches you spoke too down in the—” Lotte tried to question for clarification, but she was cut off by Maxwell’s astonished yell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“YOU SPOKE TO THEM!?” He nearly dropped the paper and staff out of carelessness; his entire composure and outward appearance as a grim and grave old man melted away upon hearing of this near prophetic news. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda winced at the volume. “Uhhh, yes? I think?” Amanda wasn’t terribly sure why this was something they needed to shout about.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I did. Spoke to Vaal. She was a ghost, or a voice. Something. In my head.” Constanze stayed stalwart. She had her suspicions that what her and Amanda experienced were connected, inextricably so. Constanze would see that mystery settled, here and now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What did they say to you?! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why</span>
  </em>
  <span> did they speak to you?!” Maxwell’s curiosity was nearing the levels of obsession; could he be blamed?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Weird shit kinda happens to our group all the time, not gonna lie.” Amanda rubbed the back of her head. “Maybe… we got too accustomed to like, getting way in over our heads?” Getting talked to by some spooky olde voices was pretty tame by their standards. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Hell, didn’t Akko talk to that weirdo Woodward before that missile shit went down?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda hardly forgot the strangeness surrounding Woodward’s statue and the plants that protected it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not the point.” Constanze shook her head and summoned up all of her social strength to speak more deliberately and descriptively. “Vaal talked to me after I got dragged down into a pit within the sanctum. Chains reached out and grabbed me. Then I was in a pile of them, with bodies wrapped in the chains. They were dead, but not. I broke—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Woah, woah, woah, you didn’t mention getting taken to some freaky ass zombie pit!” Amanda exclaimed out of worry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tried to forget that part.” Amanda groaned and put a hand on her forehead. Constanze continued. “I broke out and reached a grave. I found the mithril hammer we used to escape the dome there. I used it to break the chains holding me back and was suddenly in a small room with a different grave. Then I started hearing her in my head.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell, in the meantime, had been fumbling around the office while keeping his eyes transfixed on Constanze; he needed paper and pens. This needed to be recorded! For history’s sake! After he’d caught up with Constanze’s story, he nodded eagerly, bidding Constanze to continue. “What did she say?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze wracked her brain for the exact words they shared. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Chains… chains! So much bulschit about chains. And the hammer…. Where’s that stupid poem?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Then she stuffed her hands in her pockets again and produced the other document she’d taken from the grave. “She gave me this. I was attacked by those chains and tried to get answers. She wasn’t very helpful with my questions, but she gave me a mithril hammer. We needed it to break out of the dome.” She showed the poem to Maxwell who leaned in to examine it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Vaal, if the olde legends and tales about her are to be believed, was always quite the aloof witch. She often deflected unwanted conversations with riddles and vague suggestions. Most people mistook her for a crazed ‘wise woman’ for that very reason, as most of her advice was meant to send you on your way, thinking that there was some hidden wisdom to her words so she could get back to her works.” Maxwell explained like any museum guide might, though his enthusiasm was wholly genuine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about the chains?” Constanzed wanted to know that above all else.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She was… obsessed with them, in a way.” Maxwell set down his pen and held his hands near each other with each of his fingers splayed out. His hands made smooth, circular rubbing motions, and his head cocked from left to right as he tried to explain the more cryptic aspects of Vaal’s legacy. “No one really knows </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but from a practical standpoint, she was found by the other Five Witches of the Olde Nine in a cave she had carved out to be her home. She lived with things that most people considered to be monsters. She raised and cared for them like no other, earning her the title: Mother to the Monstrous. At first, the Five of Nine thought she was holding them prisoner with all of the chains wrapped around them, but they never seemed to mind. They were significant to her. Some say it was meant to represent the bonds between living things, but, in truth, most of the Nine Olde Witches were eccentric to the point of absurdity in one way or another.” He threw his hands up before letting them gently rest back down on the table before him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze nodded slowly. She took a second look at the poem, reading it from beginning to end. There was too much going through her head right now to really consider it, and based on what Maxwell had said, it could just be a red herring meant to distract Constanze and get her to stop complaining. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Then why would she apologize about the chains? She said this explained everything.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Clearly it didn’t, at least not immediately. “And the hammer?” She presumed it may just be a hammer, but thought to ask about it anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “She often worked with mithril tools. Supposedly, she was the first witch-smith because she was the first human to earn the trust of the Dwarven clans that populate the Fae realms; their society and craftwork relied heavily on mithril. They taught her the craft of deliberately imbuing mundane items with magic, allowing for enchanting to become a studyable art rather than a witch’s guesswork. She even convinced some of them to come to the mortal realm to work with our strange minerals.” Maxwell paused to consider his statement. “Well, strange to them at least.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte squeaked her chair forward to remark quietly. “Why didn’t we learn any of this neat stuff in school…?” The Nine Olde witches had been deified and referred to with such reverence that Lotte couldn’t fathom why this kind of information would be kept from the next generation of witches, or any witch for that matter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They told you nothing?” Maxwell knew how the Council of Nine had taken to the distribution and guarding of the Nine Olde Witches’ many secrets, but he had not thought that it extended into the most basic teachings; of their history where they came from. “Truly?” All three of the witches shook their heads or shrugged. Maxwell felt something wrong in his gut. “I’m… I don’t know what to say to that.” The winds in his sails had gone out for the moment. How were witches meant to hold onto traditions when the very roots of those traditions were being obscured? He could not know; it seemed so very counterintuitive. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s too late to get pissed over a shit education now.” Said Amanda, the one who didn’t even get a full education. “Maybe you can enlighten me on who this Jehanne bitch is,” Maxwell nearly choked on air at someone as important as Jehanne being referred to as a ‘bitch.’ Amanda continued without missing a beat, having meant no serious disrespect or malice in her words. “And why she got all dramatic in my head while I was kinda busy being in extreme pain.” Amanda had been burned before, but never </span>
  <em>
    <span>like that</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ll, ahem, have to be more specific.” Maxwell withheld the crotchety tendency in him to scold Amanda for speaking ill of the venerated dead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We didn’t even mention the freaky plant, did we?” Amanda looked to Constanze, her voice more exhausted than ever when faced with the process of explaining all of that to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze sensed that frustration. “Not important. Focus on the stuff with the fire.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The fire?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m getting there! Let me start properly….” Amanda paced twice more before she turned on a heel and ran through her side of the story. “So, while Constanze was going through all of that stuff with Vaal, I was dealing with weird shit of my own. I was searching for my girlfriends, yada-yada, that part ain’t important,” She waved dismissively. “Point is, I got lost looking for them and ended up finding some big door with a symbol on it. It was like, three spears or—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lances!” Maxwell corrected, more excitedly now that they had returned to the subject of his intrigue. Amanda looked at him annoyedly, given his interruption. “A-Apologies; Jehanne was most known for wielding a lance, is all; Heartpiercer, she called it.” An awkward pause followed. “Please, continue.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.” Amanda sighed. “Where was I? Right, so it was three </span>
  <em>
    <span>lances</span>
  </em>
  <span> with a fire behind it and some words I couldn’t read.” She paused to look at Maxwell expectantly. The two stared at each other before Amanda groaned. “Is that the symbol of your order of the banefire or whatever?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“B-Balefire, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Balefire</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Maxwell had a feeling Amanda would get on his nerves. “And, yes, it is our insignia.” He openly displayed the back of his right hand, revealing an inked tattoo of that same symbol. It bore the same script as well, though the words were written in Gaelic and Lunar Runes rather than proto-French. “The words read: This Fire is Ours. It’s something we say during ceremonies, and at times, as a battlecry; something to rally the people behind.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fair enough.” Amanda fell back into her spinning chair from earlier while continuing her story. “So I blasted the door open because it wouldn’t budge.” That time, Maxwell did indeed choke on air. He coughed and hacked intermittently. “Oh come the fuck on! I had people I was trying to save! I wasn’t exactly worried about some older-than-dust tomb! Not that I knew it was a tomb to begin with….” Maxwell urged her to continue with a hand gesture as he collected himself. “So I broke in and found two swordsmen, or sword skeletons, I later found out, fighting some Throggs. I came at the tail end of the fight and decided to help when it came down to just the last Throgg and skeleton person. Took up a sword and helped cut the big-boy down.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell slowed his writing to re-read what he had transcribed. “Skeletons? They were undead?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Must’ve been. I’ll get there.” Amanda reassured before getting back on track. “Anyways, I tried to get some help in return from that fighter I helped, but they just wanted to duel me. Did a fancy bow and everything when the doors shut behind ‘em.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell tapped the pen to his noggin while conjuring up the image of the gesture she was referring to. “Like….” He decided it was best to demonstrate and shuffled to his feet. He bent over with a sharp groan from his creaking back, held one hand out, slightly bent at the elbow, and put the other arm behind his back. “Like this?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, exactly like that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell was quick to straighten his back out and hiss briefly before speaking through minor pain. “That would be the gesture most hunters use when they want to challenge a comrade to a friendly duel…. Or… sometimes it was for more serious reasons, but I never witnessed one like that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda chuckled. “Well they sure as hell came at me like they wanted blood. I’m just glad I wasn’t too out of practice with a sword like that. Would’ve lost my head real quick.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you won?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hell yeah I did! I styled on that boney S.O.B.!” Amanda laughed confidently, her fists proudly glued to her hips. She found her mirth waning into a groan at the sight of Maxwell’s disapproving grimace a moment later. “You’re no fun, you know that?” Her posture slouched forward and her arms drooped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can we get through this within the next… aaaaaaah.... decade please?” Constanze asked, a yawn breaking up the question. She wanted, more so than Amanda did, to find the meaning behind all of this, but the mind and body had limits. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine, fine. All the ‘dead’ fighters got up and packed themselves in some side room where they probably all sleep or whatever. I dunno why they’re undead or what was animating them, but they had a blue flame in their eye sockets, so if that means anything to you, then great.” Amanda awaited some profound explanation, but found Maxwell lightly shrugging his shoulders instead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Balefires are usually blue but—” He had little else to add.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Even better! Now, after all that was done, I went and started looking around for a way out and ended up accidentally opening some secret compartment instead. Inside was a little blue fire in a big bowl with a burnt torch in it. I thought, alright, this is probably some stupid puzzle or whatever.” Amanda halted her gentle spinning to stare into Maxwell’s eyes with all seriousness. “And that’s when the flame </span>
  <em>
    <span>jumped</span>
  </em>
  <span> right at me! Right off of the torch and up my arm!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Maxwell hummed curiously and raised his pen-wielding hand to his chin in thought, allowing Amanda to continue.</span> <span>“I thought that was it: Game over, I was gonna get burned to death, because it spread all over my body and wasn’t going out. It didn’t hurt at first.” Amanda shivered. “But then it went </span><em><span>inside</span></em><span> me. That’s when everything started just…. God I never thought you could </span><em><span>get</span></em><span> that hot. Thought I was being cooked alive from the inside!” She looked at her hands and down her body. She could imagine the event very clearly, like a lucid dream. “And that’s when the voice started. It echoed something about my heart being on fire, needing to blaze, feeding the flame…. She said it was her fire once, but now it was mine.” She shook her head and let her arms rest on her lap. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell’s brow knit and his pen was dropped gently to the paper. He needed to hear the rest to give an accurate idea of what was happening, but he had suspicions. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Could it have been…?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And it said something that I…. I kinda still hear it. I remember it at least….” Amanda paused, unsure if she should repeat it or not. After spending a moment to suck in her lips out of hesitation, she relented. “It went like this: Go and bear the torch well, good hunter, lest darkness consume all. Remember well our creed</span>
  <em>
    <span>:</span>
  </em>
  <span>—” That’s when Maxwell spoke the words in unison with her. “All that is demanded of those who seek to defeat evil, is that they stand up, and fight.” Amanda, somewhat freaked out by that, leaned back in her chair and suspiciously eyed Maxwell. “You some kind’a mind-reader?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no! It’s just as the voice said: It’s our creed!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Your</span>
  </em>
  <span> creed.” Amanda corrected, her tone somewhat angry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But… if what you’re saying is true, if you found what I think you did, then you are </span>
  <em>
    <span>chosen</span>
  </em>
  <span>! Chosen by the </span>
  <em>
    <span>original</span>
  </em>
  <span> Balefire!” Maxwell rose to his feet, his legs and arms trembling with an enthusiasm that his old bones had not known in decades. “By Jehanne herself!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t ask for that!” Amanda snapped. “That thing came at me and made me feel like hell! Sure, I got through it, but I don’t remember signing up for some back-water cult that died out before I was even born!” Constanze gulped, sensing an argument, while Lotte scooted out of sight, looking to avoid the awkward sensation that was soon to spread through her should she stay.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Balefire does not choose just anyone to hold it’s flame! You should be honored, not dismissive of it!” Maxwell raised his own voice to match Amanda’s, having become quite upset himself with how Amanda had disrespected his cause and creed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pfff! It’s just some magic fire! I can make that all I want!” Amanda snapped her fingers lazily and conjured a flame to her right hand; it dangled in the air.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How could you be so entitled!? One of the Nine has endowed both of you with great wisdom, and in your case, great responsibility!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wisdom!? I got yelled at by some ghost while my whole body felt like it was melting! All it did was tell me to go burn brightly, win valor, or some other dumb shit, and you call that wisdom?!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That creed: it is an oath! Those are words to live by; words thousands have lived and won great victories by! You would be a fool to ignore their value!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Words are cheap! I ain’t here to please you or your order. I’m here to get help for my friends.” The fire in Amanda’s hands grew in size and intensity as Amanda’s expression got fiercer. “I can make a lot more fire for you if you wanna keep running your mouth!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A-Amanda!” Constanze stepped closer to her sister and put her left hand on Amanda’s shoulder. “Calm down! He’s here to help us!” She shook Amanda once vigorously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>That had Amanda turning between Constanze, the fire in her hands, and the profoundly angry Maxwell before she eventually lowered her head and balled her open hand into a fist, snuffing the fireball. This was folly, and she knew that, but she wasn’t about to have anyone else try and determine her destiny for her, not after how she opened up to Constanze. She blew air from her puffed up cheeks as she cooled off, literally. “Look, I’m sorry for being a bitch about this, but even if you’re right, don't ya think it’s a bit rude to step to us with some recruitment spiel?” She leaned forward, and Constanze let go upon her doing so. She pointed down at the table and tapped when she emphasized her words. “Luna Nova is </span><em><span>under attack</span></em><span>. We got a giant fucking blimp full of </span><em><span>vampires</span></em><span> and god knows how many monsters enslaved by some </span><em><span>weird witches</span></em><span>, and you’re worried about your secret society? Get a grip, Maxwell. We can’t get stuck in dreamland! There’s a world of people out there who need </span><em><span>help</span></em><span>, and a school of witches who are only alive right now because we managed to do the </span><em><span>fucking impossible</span></em><span> and stop time. So, do you wanna ramble more about your </span><em><span>old-as-dirt</span></em><span> history or do you wanna </span><em><span>change</span></em> <em><span>history</span></em><span>, here and now, and help us stop those blood-sucking-bastards from causing chaos all over Europe?” To say nothing about saving Luna Nova, which seemed essential to preventing the whole Europe-in-chaos part. All was quiet then; there weren’t many comebacks to that kind response which could stand up against its claims. Amanda was right, and everyone around her knew it. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte, after a few more moments, peeked in from the right side of her screen, showing just her hair, glasses, and eyes behind, as she checked in on what was going on. “Everything ok?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze looked to Lotte and gave an uneasy half-thumbs up. She wasn’t quite sure how this would pan out now. Her answer came in the form of Maxwell’s slowly forming smile, something no one seemed to expect, especially Amanda. “I see she chose well then. Haha….” His laughs were weak and lingered in the air, as though he were proud. “I’ve gone about this all clumsy like. Maybe I am too stuck on how things were, how I want them to be again.” The conversation he had with Astrid just a day or two prior came to mind; she dwelled only in the reality of people’s situations, something Maxwell knew he had become detached from after all those years of living like a hermit. “I was genuine when I said I wanted to revive the order, and that I want you two to join me, but I want you to do that on your terms and your terms alone…. I’d never want someone to claim the fire as theirs because they were merely told it was right for them. They need to find that answer themselves.” Maxwell picked up his staff and wrapped it once against the floor as he bowed his head. When his face was raised up once more, his smile was wider, but accompanied by a hardness that came with his veterancy. “And I’ll be glad to hear your answers, once we save Luna Nova.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda gave him a half smile in return, leaning back in her chair with her arms behind her back and her boots kicked up on the desk. “Now you’re speakin’ my language!” She wasn’t about to get too carried away though. “We need a plan first; four witches is a crowd, but it ain’t a mob, a platoon, or an army, and we’re gonna need at least one of those if we wanna beat the Bathorys.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Phew.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze and Lotte both sighed with relief; the latter wiped her forehead and re-entered the camera view proper on her crystal ball and sat down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye, that we will.” Maxwell looked down to his feet contemplatively. “But it’ll do us no good if we just stay here. I have several witches who have agreed to join my cause. I intended to meet up with them back at the Order Hall; it's far north of here, in Scotland. I’m certain they would be willing to help us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a start.” Amanda nodded. “And hey, your order may be old as hell, but from my understanding, things that are that old tend to have some pretty powerful stuff hidden away in them…. Catch my drift?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t speak with any certainty….” Maxwell hummed as he considered the armory; he hadn’t been inside of it in years. “Though you’re right to assume we have artifacts. They’ll no doubt come in handy, and…. No, I shouldn’t promise you anything about that. You’ll need to speak with my friend on that.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze spoke up now. “Still don’t know who he is. Apprehensive. Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll… have to let him speak for himself, I’m afraid.” Maxwell rubbed the back of his head before continuing. “Though I can sense your exhaustion, and believe me, as stubborn as I am, even I need sleep.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Agreeeeeeaaaaughed….” Lotte yawned. “I’m gonna go to bed myself I think. I’ll call you guys tomorrow once I make that post, ok?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda gave a thumbs up and wink. “Sounds good, Lotte. Thanks for doing all you can from home. Maybe we can meet up soon if the travel ain’t too much.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course! I’d fly around the world and back for you guys!” Lotte exclaimed determinedly before yawning again. “When… I’m… not about to pass out.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze chuckled while Amanda and Maxwell laughed quietly. “Rest. We’ll talk tomorrow.” They all gave a wave or nod in goodbye to Lotte then as her magical panel disappeared in a flash. Constanze then turned to Maxwell and addressed him. “Meet us by the green, long house on Fowl street. It’s near the coast. Ms Gibson owns it. Bed and breakfast. She’s letting us stay there.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see you at five then.” Maxwell began to turn and wave as he went. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Five… in the morning?” Amanda felt her eye twitch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well if you sleep soon you’ll get at least ten hours worth….” Maxwell rolled his eyes out of sight from Amanda who could only groan in response. He made his way out of the small office then and toward the town library where most of the townspeople were sleeping as a group. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the door clicked shut, Amanda wiped her eyes before settling her gaze on Constanze. “Sorry about earlier….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine. I get it.” Constanze knew all too well why Amanda had gotten upset, and after her own outburst, which she found to be more severe, Constanze felt she was in no position to judge. “Let’s get some sleep. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> get some sleep.” For once, they might have an uninterrupted nighttime go by. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll drink to that.” Amanda said while raising her flask from her jacket to her lips. She hesitated briefly, but remembered she had only filled it with water this time around. She could drink guiltlessly then. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The chittering and ambient moans of the eld things in the black void of malice offered no comfort to Chaos anymore. She was beginning to hear the voices in her head, her true voice, and the voices of those she had previously subsumed just as she heard those wails and whoops. It was a gurgling mess of human language and guttural noises, and yet it all made sense to her. That specifically was what had Chaos so afraid though. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos had long been able to read the tongues of some alien species, and could fluently communicate in Traveler’s Cant without the aid of her wicked sisters. She had always retained her human roots though, but now, things were becoming more and more frayed. She wouldn’t have minded much had the language that her mind had begun to shift into thinking with was of a far off race on a different star, a different planet, but it was nothing of the sort. Her minds’ voices were emulating the amorphous and near unknowable eld things, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>truly</span>
  </em>
  <span> alien creatures who often defied the laws of physics, biology, and the unspoken laws of the stars themselves. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I knew it. I knew it. I KNEW IT. I KNEW IT!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Chaos raved internally, huddled off alone in the blackness, near unspotabble save for her blue-hued limbs that barely stuck out from her cloak. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s taking me. It’s claiming me! Is this the price? The unknown cost? The regret to be had?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She rocked back and forth while holding her knees close to her chest. Her bug-like aspects were fully revealed: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The wings she had been sprouting were fully formed and maddeningly beautiful. Any light that shined through the clear plastic like veneer that formed her four wings refracted into </span>
  <em>
    <span>hidden colors</span>
  </em>
  <span>, hues perceivable only in certain places, at certain times, from certain angles, by certain things: The color of Times Gone By. The color of The Lives We Left Behind. The color of Impending Doom. These were the palettes from out of time, between time, within time; the paint of reality and emotion, circumstance and strife. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her fingers, now splayed out and oriented in awkward ways, as though she had late stage arthritis, had been savaged by the mutations. Four human fingers remained where the pointer and middle fingers on each hand were now replaced by sharp-feelers, singular claws aided by now morphed thumbs. Her hands resembled something closer to lobster or crab claws save for the pinky and index fingers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All but her left eye and cheek remained fleshy, at least on her face. Chaos was succumbing to her transformations more quickly than she ever had; the exponentiality was horrifying. And the memories. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Where…. I’m…. My name was…. I was an oracle… and before that I was… I was…. And she, the Fifth of Nine. No. NO! It was the third…! No…. No, no!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The sea of her psyche was becoming as sludge: Incoherent, incholate, one mass with each piece being near indistinguishable from another. She slammed her fists against the void and entered a fit of seizures that had been plaguing her on and off whenever she was left alone for too long. With every strike at herself or the world around her, more flesh on her body ripped and teared, revealing more and more of her eldritch self.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>It ended after a few minutes, leaving Chaos laid out flat, her breath uneven and quick. She needed a new host. She needed to escape this place, to escape The Pact, escape fate itself! But she could not do so, not yet. If she sought another host, she would doom The Child; her consciousness would undoubtedly become ingratiated into the corrupted mass, and her strength would fade. The Child would have no way to escape and live the life she had been denied then, and for all of Chaos’ hate for the world, for humanity and what it did to her, what the Eight Traitors did to her alongside the Deceiver, she could not bring herself to harm The Child. </span><em><span>“I beg you!”</span></em><span> She wailed internally, her sobs and cries kept to the land of the psychological. </span><em><span>“I beg you Child, hurry! Hurry and go! I cannot hold…. Not forever!”</span></em> <span><br/>
<br/>
</span></p><p>
  <span>She would have to try though. Chaos forced herself to her feet with trembling limbs. Her mandible mouth clacked a thousand curses at the universe, and one quiet one aimed at The Pursuer. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“A pact made is a pact kept! A pact made is a pact kept!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She repeated in her mind, if only to remind herself of the commitment she had made. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Hate! Hate it! I hate it all!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She flitted between devotion to the path she had come down, to her role in seeking vengeance, and her desire to be free of the eldritch influence. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Power! This is what you wanted? No?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She argued with herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Dubiousness! Regret! A pact made is a pact kept! Breaking it cannot! Cannot breaking it!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Absurdity began to take hold. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Why! Why did you partake of IT!? Why did you partake!? Power! Power from other sources! It could have been different! Foolish! Naive! NAIVE!”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Chaos! Yoohoo!” Effect waved a hand in front of the witch in black, who had been standing upright and off into the void for minutes now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I swear she’s getting worse!” Cause concernedly added. “What is even going on with her…. Dear gods, what is wrong with her </span>
  <em>
    <span>back</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” She peered around Chaos’ shoulder while floating just above her. She cringed at the sight of the wings. “That’s new.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who? Where!?” Chaos panickedly jolted backward, flying a few feet away while wrapping her arms tight around her own form. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s definitely getting worse….” Cause sighed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She doesn’t change this quickly though; at least, We don’t think she’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to.” Effect floated down to Cause’s side and hummed nervously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Changing!? Me?” Chaos looked to her form, having been rudely awakened back to reality proper. “Y-Yes! I know. I mean, </span>
  <em>
    <span>WE</span>
  </em>
  <span> mean, yes…. We know.” Chaos nodded slowly and approached just the same. Her shivering body clicked and clacked as her mandibled feet pitter-pattered toward the other Fates, hidden by the cloak she wore. She was merely glad that Cause and Effect were less draconian in their enforcement of the usage of plural pronouns; they had given everything to vengeance, their identities included. That was supposed to be the case at least. It’s not like identity was a physical substance that could have been extracted from them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> find this concerning?” Both of the twins asked with equally mortified and concerned stares. They too had been changed by The Pact’s eldritch influence, but they were minor in comparison to Chaos’ absolute immersion within the twilight powers of the eld. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We… we do… don’t….” Chaos stammered. “What do you want!? Why do you interrupt Our rest?” She would change the subject and avoid it, as she had for centuries, to the point of forgetting even </span>
  <em>
    <span>what specifically</span>
  </em>
  <span> was cursing her like this. It was from The Pact, but she had done something particular that had caused this, something she could only regret in hindsight, had she the memory. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Partake…. What did I partake of? IT… what is IT!?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Will has summoned us.” Cause began. “The Mantle demands our attention, The Pact’s mission must be continued.” Effect added. “In spite of roadblocks!” Then as one. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, We hear you.” Chaos twitched closer. “But why do you show such concern? Will you not be prodding at my wounds this time? Will you not be insulting my wretched form? Have you actually learned anything of kindness?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause and Effect looked to one another with surprise and some annoyance. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What did Chaos know of kindness?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> They thought to one another in telepathic unison. “We—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have no place in our hearts and minds for such weakness.” Will intoned with the cold viciousness she had always been associated with. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Will!” Cause exclaimed. “Our apologies! Chaos was having….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Difficulties!” Effect finished the sentence. “Her condition is… worsening. Not like it usually does. It—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We can speak for ourselves, damn you!” Chaos snapped, literally and verbally, with her claws and words. “Away!” She moved in between the two, shoving them to either side with more force than either had expected, sending them stumbling in the dark. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “What is it now, Chaos?” She had grown weary of resting, even if summoning The Pursuer’s power had drained them heavily. Will would see that nagging weakness would be taken care of today. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are the one who summoned Us! What is it </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> require?” Chaos jabbed a claw in Will’s direction, only for it to be batted aside in annoyance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Disrespect Us at your peril, Chaos.” Will remarked with a sneer. “Now, before we can begin, We would see to this… difficulty of yours.” She then did her best to soften her cruelty. She felt that Chaos really deserved no sympathy, for she had done all of this to herself, but Will was not about to be so hypocritical as to act as though she had not made grave mistakes in the past. They were still sisters, in some twisted sense, after all, and The Pact demanded their cooperation. “We can clearly see that your illness is progressing more violently. Have you withheld something from us?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos looked off and away idly, scanning the horizon until her eyes settled on Will once more. She had hidden </span>
  <em>
    <span>much</span>
  </em>
  <span> from the other Fates, but she could not reveal the sympathy she had for The Child, or for how she allowed her to save those two escaping witches. She could tell </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the truth though. “The Child… she fights inside of me! Holding her back! Us not controlling!” She shook her head. “We mean SHE is not controlling US.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will hummed measuredly. “We see…. And do you think that the more drastic measures must be—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“NO!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahem….” Will wrinkled her nose at the suddentity with which Chaos denied the treatment. “And why is that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We….” Chaos was immediately regretting her half-truths. “We died! We died last time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And? We are effectively immortal, Chaos. That body you have is hardly even a recognizable corpse at this point. It would be best that we excise you of The Child and have you seek a less corrupted form.” Will was suspicious of having to even need to explain this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We cannot die again!” Chaos blurted out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The void fell quiet. Cause and Effect whispered their fears to each other with expression and thoughts. Will, for once, seemed genuinely perturbed. “Explain yourself. Now.” She demanded tersely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We are… forgetting! Forgetting who… where… WHY! Why did we….” Chaos’ stream of consciousness began to bleed into her voice. “My name! I don’t know my name!” Will, Cause and Effect all widened their eyes at this. “I forgot it!” The Original’s Greek accent and language managed to break through. “It’s killing me! ME! I need to get out! Escape The Pact!” Then, lucidity came through her frantic and panicked looks across the void. “Why did we do this? Why did we confront Her? Why did we give up the—” A resounding slap across the face from Will silenced the rant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will ground her teeth briefly before raising her voice. “You will not speak such treacherous words in Our presence! We do not know why you are forgetting, but We will see your memory corrected the hard way.” She inhaled once, taking a long, drawn out breath while Chaos calmed down from her psychotic state. “After….</span>
  <em>
    <span> After</span>
  </em>
  <span> we have spoken to The Pursuer.” </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spoken with it!?” Chaos, Effect, and Cause all chimed, the formermost having reeled from her madness enough to gain a grip on reality once again. They had not summoned its spectre into this place in many years.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We lack the vision to go forward. We have tried to interpret it’s messages, but they are unclear. The stars are not right enough now for us to be clear with it, so We demand you, Chaos, to summon it so that We might speak with it directly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos looked down to her hands, clenched her fingers shut and her claws down. A single black tear dropped like molasses from her eyes to the void below. “Very well. We shall do this, but please, Will, speak with Us in private afterward.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We plan to.” Chaos’ punishment was still due, and with her memory so faded, Will thought to help remind Chaos by way of memory projection. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’d meet with her?” Cause began. “But not with us?” Effect finished. They were cruel sisters and devoted to The Pact, but they could not deny that they held reservations in their hearts; what if they never confronted The Deceiver? Would life have been normal? </span>
  <em>
    <span>“If only she didn’t push me to examine those tremors…!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The Twins thought singularly to themselves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Chaos was everything but consistent. She had gone through cycles of malice and mirth, hate and love, but now she was aware of it, and that awareness was only possible with The Child’s aid. She looked to the Twins. She could swear she saw flashes of how they used to look; their original bodies. Their round, joyful, and sweet little faces. Dark brown, near black skin, vibrant with life and care-free-mirth. There was never a dull moment around those two. Then reality took hold again, and she saw the stolen bodies they now held. Her claws clacked once. “We would like that very much…. We are sorry, We—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will felt her eyebrows twitch. “Have We not warned you three enough!? We are not here to play games or reminisce. The past is a bleak, terrible, and ugly thing. The future will be the same if we do not destroy magic at its roots and kill The Deceiver, and her new pawns!” Her voice was as thunder, and the eld creatures on the periphery scattered at its booming echo. “Waste no more of our time! Begin the summoning, or We shall force you to!” The Mantle demanded it, and would command it if needed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We hear you, We hear you!” Chaos exclaimed, trying to calm Will down as her own form shrunk down in the face of Will’s rising fury. “A moment….” She hushly added while standing up straight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Very well.” Will retreated two steps back, her face becoming hidden in the shadows of the white cowl over her head. Her patience would only hold for so long. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos nodded appreciably and gestured weakly for Cause and Effect to step away. They did so, and in turn, joined behind Will on either flank. Then Chaos took five more steps away so that she would have ample room to conduct the ritual. She, and she alone was capable of summoning The Pursuer’s consciousness to the realm, for she was the only one of the Fates who properly studied the eld magicks of olde; Cause and Effect merely borrowed it from The Pursuer, and Will refused it outright. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ceremony was complex, and demanded perfection from the singular enacter of it: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos began by holding her arms out as straight as possible, her posture matching in rigidness. Her head angled back to look forward and up toward the not-sky in front of her. It began with the changing of flesh. Her throat had to morph and mutate such that her insectoid jaw and mandibles became three unevenly shaped flesh-trumpets. She had gone through the process even in life, before becoming a Fate witch, and mercifully found it to be as painless of a process as it was back then, and hoped it would be as temporary. The windpipes whistled and blew a tune on the wind, the sounds of void-borne events. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos mimicked the sound of colliding asteroids, the howling gales of a gas giants’ eternal storms, the crackling and hissing white noise of a sun’s sizzling surface; the cosmos and its perpetual cycles. The pipes morphed and changed further to accommodate the sounds she willed from her being, and slowly, a song was made. Its tune was long, droning, but coherent, like funeral drums and slowed down tubas. Then came the chorus. The eld critters returned, dirging the familiar tune of the summoning song. Each eld thing that possessed a summoning song, typically only those which were very powerful, had a unique tune, melody, and set of instruments that needed to be played which made them distinct from one another. Given the infinity of the universe, the countless galaxies that had and were forming at the edge of literal space, Chaos needed to memorize its tune to perfection. Just one sour note could summon any number of different entities that had no business with them, and eld things that were mistakenly summoned were not usually very kind to the sorcerers who brought them there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Pursuer’s song, specifically, demanded the instruments be alive. It could only be called by the sounds of life, natural music, free of crafted influences. And so the chorus of creatures sang, breaking off from the original tune to harmonize and sing different discordant notes and motions for brief periods at the needed time. Chaos raised and waved her arms as a conductor might, commanding the hordes as they went. All the while, she raised her wand, a simple, perfectly straight black wooden thing, marked only by a singular wooden tendril-carving that neither began or ended. Instead, it simply wound itself around the haft of the wand all the way to both ends. She had only needed to utilize it for the most complicated of movements. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her claw hands moved at blinding speeds. New arms sprouted from her side only to instantly recede after passing on the wand in fluid fashion to make the erratic and jarring movements necessary to create the runes. The shapes were in Travellers Cant, and if read, held The Pursuer’s true name, for “The Pursuer” was merely the simplified title it had been given by the Fates for sake of ease. Twenty minutes passed before all of the animated symbols in Travelers Cant had been drawn; each danced to its position in the circle that surrounded Chaos. The words themselves walked to the tune which had quickened in pace as the climax drew near. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos’ windpipes shrilly blared and hissed like misshapen didgeridoos, and one of the three flesh-trumpets reformed into her jaw that she might speak in a human tongue while the song continued. “Seeking Thing of Star and Sun, Approaching Being of Darkest Side of Moons, Encroaching Master of The Un and The Is, Lifegiving Overseer of Planets Far Flung, Reaping Harvester of Wastelanded Rocks: Hear and know Our call!” Her words were filled with a forced passion, and a hint of disdain. “A pact made is a pact kept; your </span>
  <em>
    <span>servants</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” She hissed the word. “Require your aid and guidance! The path is unclear, our enemies many, and elusive; vengeance is yet deferred! So come! Come great Pursuer, seeker of The Deceiver, and light our way toward retribution!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The eld choir and band trembled and shimmied and wiggled. The biological instruments they all wielded, bodies and all, worbled to create a distorted version of the previously kept tune. The pace of the song quickened to a climax as massive blubbering spawn beat their rotund stomachs like drums, heralding consciousness of the thing that created them into this void. Then came the thunder. The earthquakes. A rapturous cacophony scattered the band. Only the Fates stood their ground. A great moan, one that sounded like a legion of whales all cooing in horrible unison, shook the realm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos’ mutated form returned to something partially human, that insectoid mishmash of flesh and chitin that she was forced to live with for now. Upon her head becoming what it was again, she took long and heavy breaths in recovery. “It comes.” Her whispered words were carried on the vibrating winds that began to buffet her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Fates all shielded their faces when the gale became unbearable, howling as hurricanes might and blowing their cloaks back with extreme force. Still, they stood tall and remained in place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It appeared then, first far, </span>
  <em>
    <span>far</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the distance, like a celestial body light years away. Keen eyes would see it </span>
  <em>
    <span>swimming</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the void, making long, methodical, and serpentine motions on a vertical level. Up and down, up and down, and with every rise and fall, another bellowed moan threatened to bleed the ears of The Fates. With every whale like coo and groan it made, strange patterns and veins illuminated beneath its black hide-skin surface; a bioluminescence that changed color every time it lit up. As it drew nearer, its size increased. The scale of the being was not true to its corporeal form however, but even then, from where The Fates stood, only minutes after it first appeared, it was taking up one third of their cone of vision. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From there they could see its form more clearly. Long, gangly tendrils, lit by the same bioluminescence as its veins, stuck out for miles, beginning by its round and oval shaped front, and ending near its four-finned tail, with the vertical fins being mostly translucent and patterned like butterfly wings, while the horizontal ones were much harder, thicker. The crease of its “mouth” stretched flatly across its body to about half of its full length, and it possessed two giant orbs of bright pink light that served as its primary eyes; one was on the bottom of its front, below the crease of its mouth, and one was above. Its skin was otherwise smooth relative to its size, possessing only protrusions of flesh such as the tendrils and little fines that propelled it forward with bursts of gases and waste. One hole in particular stood out compared to the rest. It was a crater just above its top eye. It did not appear to be a wound, but something was clearly missing. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few more minutes passed until it turned fluidly to the side. Now it was almost too tall to see the top and bottom of it when looking dead on its flank, and the Fates suspected it was likely still many miles from their position in the void. It very much moved and sounded like a whale, at least, that was the closest thing it could be compared to on Earth, but its proportions were more worm-like. It circled in the dark around the Fates position, moaning one final time as it suddenly sprouted a massive tentacle from the relative underside of its body. The appendage was flat and wide at the tip, held up so that The Fates could see its surface at all times. It came toward them, reaching out like a curios’ octopus's arm, as an eye opened in the dead center of the surface. With every blink, the pupils changed, and from this eye, it projected its thoughts and words while the main body continued to circle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first of its words drew near as slow three arcane projections in the air.</span>
  <b> “A PACT MADE IS A PACT KEPT.” </b>
  <span>The three symbols faded like smoke signals, conveying their meaning to Will and Chaos, the two of the Fates who could read and speak Travellers Cant, through thunderous voices in their minds, and the projection of scenes, thoughts, and ideas directly into their psyche. From there, they interpreted the words and elucidated its meaning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A pact made is a pact kept!” The Fates said in unison, the Twins doing so only out of habit from knowing the procedure of the ritual. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two symbols came to then. </span>
  <b>“THERE IS CONCERN.”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The concern is Ours.” Will said as she replaced Chaos in the center of the summoning circle while Chaos retreated to join Cause and Effect. Her words were in plain human tongue, for The Pursuer, like many great eld things, could understand all languages, or at least most conceivable languages. The difficulty came in actually understanding its own words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two more symbols. </span>
  <b>“THERE WILL BE RELIEF.”</b>
  <span> Then four more. </span>
  <b>“EXPLAIN THE CIRCUMSTANCES THAT ELICIT CONCERN.”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We have reached an impasse! The witches of Luna Nova have deployed magics that defy the universal laws of time. Unravelling the effect is possible, in theory, but it is a task that may take us time that we do not have.” Will shouted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Six symbols came with an undulating, fleshy noise emanating from the tendril as it worbled. </span>
  <b>“TIME IS THE DOMAIN OF THINGS WHICH DWELL BEYOND GLASS AND THOSE THAT LEARN FROM THOSE THINGS.” </b>
  <span>Its words seemed to imply that it was not a Thing Which Dwelt Beyond Glass, an eld thing that existed outside of conventional time; those kinds of creatures were especially rare, if only because they seldom were noticed by things inside of time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We are aware!” Will interjected. “Your powers are not of time, but we must first know how long it may take to conjure or craft an adequate counterspell. Is this knowledge you can provide us?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A moaning followed, possibly a hum, or perhaps just an idle motion of its extremely complex and gargantuan body. Five symbols were made. </span>
  <b>“THE INTIMACY OF MEMORY IS REQUIRED. BRING FORWARD THAT WHICH OFFERS ITS MIND.” </b>
  <span>From the large, eye-bearing tendril, a smaller appendage reached out and hovered a few inches away from Will’s forehead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We declare Ourselves as That Which Offers Its Mind.” Will said confidently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two symbols. </span>
  <b>“THERE IS ACKNOWLEDGEMENT.” </b>
  <span>Then the small appendage pressed itself against Will’s bowed head, and gently tore a hole in the flesh. Her body twitched once, then twice, as she adjusted to the sensation. Usually she was the one who was rifling through other beings' minds, when the situation demanded it, but she was certain that this form of thought-reading was different from the magicks she employed. There was no doubt in her mind that this was a permitted </span>
  <em>
    <span>invasion</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the mind, not a spell-cast-surveillance of it. Though, given Will’s general impatience, and the situations that forced her to use her own school of magic, she felt there was little room for her to speak of ill The Pursuer’s probing. Her forced entry into Nikolai’s mind was little different in permission, but varied wildly in the feeling and method. </span>
  <b>“THERE IS UNDERSTANDING.”</b>
  <span> Two symbols communicated after a few minutes while the probing appendage retracted and sealed the wound.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“From your new understanding, do you know how long it may take for us to dispel the stoppage of time?” Will asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Pursuer was terribly silent for a long while. Then its mouth opened by a hair from where The Fates stood, making a gurgling noise that spoke volumes of its dissatisfaction with… something. </span>
  <b>“THE UNDERSTANDING BRINGS MEMORIES,” </b>
  <span>A litany of symbols were being sent out from the now vibrating tendril. </span>
  <b>“THESE ARE MEMORIES THAT BRING DISCOMFORT. THERE IS NOT UNDERSTANDING OF THE DISCOMFORT OR THE MEMORIES, BUT THERE IS UNDERSTANDING OF THAT WHICH BRINGS CONCERN.” </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will looked back to Chaos, who she would admit knew better on how to interpret the words and mannerisms of The Pursuer. Chaos scratched at the rotten flesh of her cheek nervously, almost as unsure of what to make of it as Will. Chaos stepped forward and called. “There is miscommunication!” She yelled that phrase specifically to signal to The Pursuer that its words needed to be repeated or explained. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It gurgled further, though its mouth had now closed, hiding the squirming horrors that lurked inside. </span>
  <b>“THE POWERS AT WORK AT THE PLACE DESCRIBED AS BRIGHT MOON,”</b>
  <span> It spoke of Luna Nova. </span>
  <b>“THOSE POWERS BRING DISCOMFORT. THERE IS CONCERN THAT A THING WHICH DWELLS BEYOND GLASS INTERFERES.”</b>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause and Effect raised their voices. “What is it saying?” They could sense its discomfort. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-We’re figuring that out! Keep quiet! Thinking!” Chaos chided. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is impossible, surely.” Will began. “The Deceiver had no powers over time. Its domain is shared by The Pursuer.” She turned to face Chaos fully. “Is it implying that </span>
  <em>
    <span>another</span>
  </em>
  <span> eld creature has come to aid them? That Which Dwells Beyond Glass?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos chittered and clacked her claws impatiently. The thoughts did not easily come to her. “We don’t know…. We don’t think so! But We are unsure.” She hummed uneasily once again. “We sensed no influence of eld at Luna Nova that was different from The Deceiver’s, and no being powerful enough to cause this could have masked its presence.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Pursuer interjected. </span>
  <b>“A CREATION OF THAT WHICH DWELLS BEYOND GLASS OR ITS FOLLOWERS MAY BE THE CAUSE.”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“An artifact of sorts?” Will queried. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“THERE IS ACKNOWLEDGEMENT.” </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It must have been something a chronomancer made….” Chaos posited as she bit her left-claw idly with her mandibled mouth. She could sense that familiar feeling again. A sense of deja vu. It kept coming up when she thought about chronomancers. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Witch in Gold…. Witch in Gold! Why do I remember her?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She blinked and saw the reflections in The Pursuer’s changing eye. She thought she saw something move, something gold. Chaos shook her head, fought off the headache that began, and preemptively held her arm over her nose as black bile bled from it, just as it did before when she thought about that witch. “The question remains, Pursuer!” Chaos was eager to change the subject. “How long will it take us to unravel the magicks?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a pause, then distant rumbling. </span>
  <b>“SIXTY ROTATIONS OF THE PLANET WHERE THE UNLOYAL THING HIDES. ESTIMATIONS.” </b>
  <span>It spoke of The Deceiver, and while Will paid no mind to its reference to her by that title, Chaos found it strange. She had never heard it refer to The Deceiver as “unloyal.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will sighed and wiped her face gently with both hands. “Then tell Us, Pursuer, do The Bathorys pose a threat to our goals should they be allowed to act freely?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another rumble, this time with greater strength. </span>
  <b>“THE CHANGED ONES OF THE SANGUINE MOON WILL REAP A BOUNTIFUL HARVEST. THIS CANNOT COME TO PASS. A PACT MADE IS A PACT KEPT.”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will turned with brief confusion to Chaos who clicked her mandibles once. “Cannot come to pass…?” She asked her erratic sister. Will had known The Pursuer was invested in the destruction of The Deceiver, for reasons vaguely implied to be a rivalry between eld things; machinations beyond The Fate’s or humanity’s concern. Will did not think The Pursuer cared for humanity’s survival though, and given its repetition of the phrase “A pact made is a pact kept,” they could only interpret that as some sort of command from The Pursuer to halt the Bathorys’ plans. Her and Chaos thought the same thing. “Why can this not come to pass?” Will spoke for them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Pursuer did not respond immediately. Time passed with it circling and staring down at Will specifically. Then the symbols came again. </span>
  <b>“THE DECEPTIVE ONE,” </b>
  <span>The title The Pursuer used for The Deceiver more regularly compared to “The Unloyal Thing.” It continued. </span>
  <b>“PLOTTED FOR THE DESTRUCTION OF THAT WHICH CALLS ITSELF MAN. THERE IS NOT UNDERSTANDING OF REASON. THERE IS UNDERSTANDING THAT IT MUST BE STOPPED. A PACT MADE IS A PACT KEPT.” </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will considered the words for a brief moment before nodding. She saw what lay underneath the earth where Yggdrasil now stands, and knew it would destroy all of humanity should it ever fully awaken. She never questioned why it was there herself, not since The Deceiver had answered the question with an obliterating barrage of spells. If The Pursuer had surmised that it was merely meant to be a weapon used to eradicate humanity in some larger machination in the great game the powerful eld “gods” played, then that was enough for Will to accept this sudden concern for humanity’s survival. “A pact made is a pact kept.” She intoned dutifully before looking to the Twins.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Twins chimed in response. “A pact made is a pact kept!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then Will looked to Chaos who hesitated and examined the faint reflections of the black bile on her cloak. “A-A pact made… is a pact k-kept.” She coughed once. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“THERE ARE PLANS. THERE WILL BE ADHERENCE.” </b>
  <span>The Pursuer suddenly demanded, a long moan marking the presentation of the symbols. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have orders, Pursuer?” Will turned her head back to face the appendage, curious, as The Pursuer seldom gave exact orders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“THERE MUST BE A SEARCH FOR THE KNOWLEDGE FORGOTTEN. TIME MUST BE LET FREE. THERE ARE THINGS WHICH ELICIT CONCERN.” </b>
  <span>It began while its changing eye focused a small orb of eld magic that flew out and away from it. The orb then blew up into a dark cloud-like shape before The Fates. </span>
  <b>“THE CHANGED ONES OF THE SANGUINE MOON MUST BE ALLOWED A FLEETING VICTORY.”</b>
  <span> The Pursuer displayed Castle Bathory floating high over a ruined Luna Nova.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos groaned. “We know we still need them to kill those damnable witches.” Then she spat to the side before fully collecting her weary and fading self. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“THEN THERE MUST BE ENDINGS. END THE CHANGED ONES OF THE SANGUINE MOON.”</b>
  <span> The display then shifted, becoming briefly foggy before it showed the ruined Luna Nova and the falling wreck of Castle Bathory in flames. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will nodded. “We understand and obey. They have earned our ire thrice over as is.” Perhaps Will would enjoy letting loose her anger on those leeches; though she knew that would only sate her fury for a very short while. Only when The Deceivers corpse was but dust would Will even consider knowing peace. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“THERE IS ANOTHER WHICH ELICITS CONCERN.” </b>
  <span>The Pursuer’s projection changed with the shifting of the dark clouds to show scores of witches on brooms flying toward Luna Nova. </span>
  <b>“THERE ARE THREE PAWNS OF THE DECEPTIVE THING NOT BOUND BY TIME.”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause and Effect, while unsure of what it was saying, could infer the meaning by the image. “Interlopers!” Cause yelled, stepping forward. “Who comes to intervene in our rightful cull!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Their colors are many….” Effect leered. “A combined effort of the Eight Traitor’s ilk to protect their false prophet! How could that come to pass?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will turned to explain. “It says that </span>
  <em>
    <span>three</span>
  </em>
  <span> survivors are roaming free….” She felt her fists tighten involuntarily, and the air about her begin to blow as she looked to Chaos. “And We have an idea of why that may be the case….” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-What!?” Chaos threw her claws up defensively. “Madness! Foolishness! Those were </span>
  <em>
    <span>two</span>
  </em>
  <span> witches, not three! And they could never have survived those frigid waters!” She lied, knowing all too well that a slim chance remained. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No matter. We will see that their plan to strike back at The Bathorys is halted.” Will pointed accusatory to Chaos then. “And regardless of whether or not those two escapees were Pawns, you are yet to suffer for your negligence. We will see to that soon.” Ultimately, Will needed to focus them back on actually stopping these interlopers, and so she pivoted back toward The Pursuer’s changing eye. “Ourself and Chaos shall hunt down these Pawns and entrap them. Cause and Effect shall see to the study of this time stopping spell. They will create a counterspell, and then our vengeance shall be complete.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“THERE IS ACKNOWLEDGEMENT. THERE IS APPROVAL.” </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Seriously!?” Effect groaned. “Why do </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span> always get left with the tedious tasks!” Worst of all, it meant more time alone with Cause.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Cause rolled her head and shoulders in annoyance.  “Truly, can we do nothing interesting once in a while!? It’s always investigate that, steal this pointless thing, harry that useless fool!” Worst of all, it meant more time alone with Effect. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Enough!” Will chided without turning to face the annoyed twins. “Your complaints are childish. See to your assigned task with all due haste. We cannot afford to fail any more, lest we be set back to square one. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Again.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“FAILURE DEMANDS A CHANGE.” </b>
  <span>The Pursuer’s changing eye squinted. </span>
  <b>“TIME GROWS SHORT. PATIENCE WEARS THIN. THE HUNT ENDS SOON.”</b>
  <span> One could almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>taste</span>
  </em>
  <span> the bitterness of anger in the air as it communicated those thoughts. The Fates took a step back as each of them sensed the fury in the air. Everything felt hotter under The Pursuer’s gaze. </span>
  <b>“FAILURE DEMANDS PUNISHMENT. THERE WILL BE CORRECTIONS. IF THERE WILL BE FAILURE, THEN THERE WILL BE CHANGE. THERE WILL BE AN ARRIVAL.” </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“An arrival?” Chaos took another step backward. The word “arrival” bounced around in her head, spreading dread to every part of her body, a dread that she could tell was not shared by the other Fates. “What will be arriving?!” She demanded with a yell tinted with panic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“THAT WHICH COMMANDS THE FATES.” </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos went pale, as pale as her chitinous body could allow. She shakily looked to Will who similarly had taken on an expression of fear. If they failed here, then The Pursuer may just take matters into its own hands, or rather, its own tentacles. “You… you would come to Earth?”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <b>“THERE IS ACKNOWLEDGEMENT.”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No! You mustn’t!” The Twins defiantly yelled in unison, knowing enough to at least understand when it was saying “yes” or “no.” The other two Fates looked to them with greater fear. Cause stepped forward hesitantly, but determined to make her case known. “We agreed to join with The Pact to save the planet, not destroy it!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Effect followed suit. “The Earth is sacred! Your war with The Deceiver would see humanity ruined all the same!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Vengeance is only half of our goal! A pact made is a pact </span>
  <em>
    <span>kept</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” The Twins said as one, leaving the void with an eerie quiet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Pursuer bristled. Its very distant form, lurched and shifted. The very flesh on its hide bubbled and brewed with chaotic energies as more appendages and tendrils formed and faded. The tendril with the changing eye undulated wrathfully, shifting shape and color like a neon-light-show from hell. Power swelled by the changing iris, and then, with a bright purple flash, it shot out toward Cause and Effect as a stream of eld lightning. The Twins screamed in pain and fell to their knees almost instantly upon being struck by the malefic bolts. Symbols in Travelers Cant spewed from the darkness in varying shapes and sizes. </span>
  <b>“DEFIANT MORSELS. THERE IS IMPUDENCY. THERE IS RAGE. THERE IS RAGE. THERE WILL BE CORRECTIONS. THIS IS THE REASON FOR FAILURE. THERE IS DISCORDANCE. THERE IS NO FOCUS. THERE WILL BE—”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pursuer!” Will shouted while flying upward into the stream of eld lightning. She had raised her hands up and conjured all of her might to create a barrier that deflected the spell off into the darkness beyond. “This is folly! Nothing can be gained from you wounding your servants! Allow Us to handle their punishment; we will be swift and precise in correcting these errors!” Will, for all of her hate, would not allow another eld creature, Pursuer or not, to harm any of the Fates. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Pursuer’s attack was paused, and its extended tendril was bent down to come close to Will. Its size dwarfed her tenfold. </span>
  <b>“THERE WILL BE CORRECTIONS, OR THERE WILL BE ARRIVALS.” </b>
  <span>The eye blinked once, reforming to become billions of smaller eyes that all focused on Will’s cold and sharp glare. </span>
  <b>“A PACT MADE IS A PACT KEPT.”</b>
  <span> It said with finality before the tendril retreated at horrifying speeds back to the main body. The Pursuer itself, the projection of its being that had come to the void-reality, bellowed one final time, chorusing like a wrathful army of whales once again while it turned toward the Fates. It “swam” to them at alarming speed, only to dive underneath them upon growing too close. The droning echoes of its cries faded into the infinite blackness, leaving the Fates stunned, panting, and in Cause’s and Effect’s case, writhing in pain on the ground.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Will lowered herself down to the “floor,” breathing heavily through her nose. “Do you see now </span><em><span>why</span></em> <em><span>I am so critical of you blundering idiots.”</span></em><span> Her voice slipped temporarily into the ancient Korean accent and language that was her Original. She took three measured steps in pace before turning around, though her dagger like stare never left any of her sisters. “We will </span><em><span>not</span></em><span> fail here. Do </span><em><span>I</span></em><span> make </span><em><span>myself</span></em><span> clear?” Cause and Effect couldn’t even manage a nod; their bodies were convulsing and twitching too erratically to be expected of anything else. Chaos could only stare back with a similar fury. She nodded, but her eyes met Will’s and silently communicated her disdain for their shared fate. They had set out to </span><em><span>save</span></em><span> the world, and now they may very well bring its doom so much closer. Will had no time to argue though; none of them did. She corrected her usage of pronouns and buried deep her personality behind the hate once more. “We expect you two to scrape yourselves off of the floor within an hour or two. And you,” She looked to Chaos specifically. “We have </span><em><span>much</span></em><span> to investigate.” </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos snapped her mandibles twice at Will with some aggression, but the witch in white knew it was merely a show of force with no real weight behind it. Chaos had no right to defend herself against Will’s wrath now; she had truly erred, and The Pursuer itself had demanded “corrections.” Instead, her thoughts turned inward for a brief, lucid moment. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Child I know you have heard what I have….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The Original’s mind drifted to the morning when The Child saved Amanda and Constanze and to the hope The Child had. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I pray that you are right about them; those witches….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She bowed her head just enough to hide the welling of black tears in her eyes behind the shadows of her cowl. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“For if you aren’t, then the world is truly doomed.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She saw it. She knew it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This symphony had no jubilant finale.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><hr/><hr/><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Water of The Tomb | Hell and Consequences</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TA'DA! Chapter 15 is here, and honestly, I'm quite pleased to get it to you as quickly as I did! There's a lot of juicy content in this one for Amanda and Conz AND the Fates; more than last chapter even for the latter! I hope you're all doing well, and if your not, that this chapter cheers you up, or at least distracts you from some of the bad stuff!</p><p>Enjoy! </p><p>Obligatory tumblr plug! https://karmotrinedreams91.tumblr.com/</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“My lord, please, you must lay back down! We’ve only just finished mending the—ACH!” Nikolai’s right hand was clenched tightly around the mortal apothecarian. His pale and near skeletal features left Nikolai with little to strangle but bone and windpipes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are </span>
  <em>
    <span>finished</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and that is my </span>
  <em>
    <span>final</span>
  </em>
  <span> decree on the matter.” The shirtless lord Zrinski, wrapped in bandaging around his midsection where the Shiny Rod had pierced him with its awesome power, sat up from the cold stone table upon which he was previously laid out. The wound was no longer gaping, at least, but much of his innards were still hollow where the arrow went through. Something about the attack had prevented his regeneration in its entirety. It wasn’t fire, the typical counter to such unnatural resilience, but it was halting his powers none the less, and it enraged him to no end. “Do I make myself clear?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“C-C-CRI…. CRYS—” The servant was suddenly dropped and fell to his knees. Nikolai didn’t have the patience to hear him gurgling out a dogged acknowledgement of the order. The black robed apothecarian coughed and hacked, feeling his hands around his collar and neck, gangly fingers running about the newly bruised sections. The other menders had all backed away in that cramped room filled with caskets and bodies, pressing their forms up against the walls or hiding behind the dangling corpses from the ceiling as though they were bovine cadavers in a meat fridge. “M-My lord, please! Our queen demanded we see you healed fully!” Another voiced.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know what’s best for me! I am no child in need of his mother’s coddling!” Nikolai barked while turning himself to stand from the table, wincing just barely as he did so. “You’ve done enough! I require no further aid.” The hollowness in his body said otherwise; magic was one of the few things that could cause vampires any significant pain due to its supernatural effects. “I demand a drink! And you!” He pointed to one of the hiding apothecaries. “My armor; bring it here. Immediately.” The servants did as demanded. They served Elizabeth first and foremost, but when she was not around to enforce absolute loyalty, they were ultimately at the behest of whoever was most likely to kill them at any given moment. The first servant came immediately with a wine-looking bottle in hand. It was vintaged blood, preserved for two centuries; Nikolai’s personal favorite, and one of the few things that could calm his enraged humors. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He snatched it with greed and restrained malice while the offering servant bowed away. With a resounding “pop!” the bottle was opened with his pointer-finger-claw to undo the cork, and he gorged himself on the blood just a moment after. His drinking was sloppy, ignoble, and ravenous, leaving his shirtless form and simple pants drenched in streaks of crimson. The whole bottle was downed in a mere thirty seconds, only to be firmly set beside where he stood, cracking it slightly at the bottom. Nikolai gasped for air, again, out of pure human habit that never left his undead form, rather than for any need for such plebeian concepts like “air.” His intense eyes scanned the room then while his right hand wiped his face from the cheek down; his fangs were barred and cleaned by his tongue. “And my armor! Immediately means NOW! As in, THIS INSTANT!” Where two aids to the apothecaries had run off to fetch the armor, the rest were sent scurrying after them, longing for nothing else but an excuse to be in a different room than the one Nikolai currently inhabited. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On their way out, the last of the mortal wretches who pledged themselves to such cruel masters nearly bumped into the gaudily dressed form of a fanning vampire. “M-MY LADY! Sincerest apologies!” Katalin jolted in slight surprise, her eyes squinting from above the fan which hid the rest of her annoyed visage. With a deep bow, the offending apothecarian shuffled around Katalin’s figure, minding her every step as she made to flee, leaving the two Bathory siblings alone, with the daughter standing in the doorframe while Nikolai paced impatiently and slowly in the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I should have guessed by all the yelling at this truly Godless hour that it would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> causing the commotion.” Katalin flicked her fan wielding hand in one fluid motion to fold it up and bring it to her side. It was morning outside, even if the darkness of the arcane storm clouds implied otherwise. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai paused mid stride, turning his half blood smeared face to level his rueful stares upon Katalin. “What do you want?” He demanded pointedly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin sighed, knowing this conversation, like most with Nikolai, would just leave her annoyed. “I was checking on your condition at mother’s behest; she also wanted me to remind you that our minions aren’t expendable.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you see any bodies anywhere? I’m a man, not a beast.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Katalin clicked her tongue once, sizing up his crimson stained form, listening briefly to the pitter patter of blood droplets that dripped from his waist and chin. “Clearly.” Another pause came with her entering the room and rounding the operating-slab. “And while I congratulate your ability to restrain your brutish nature for more than a day, I must ask why exactly you’re walking about as if you </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> have a hole in your chest.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s sealed.” Nikolai turned his head away from Katalin so that he could focus more on his pacing. His mind was as awash in blood as his body. This setback angered, no, infuriated him to the point of bursting! He couldn’t even deny that Katalin’s, admittedly snarky, comment on his restraint held weight; Nikolai was surprised himself that, given the circumstances, he hadn’t relieved a few supplicants of their heads. Whenever he thought of his rage, his fury, his mind turned to one face, one person in particular. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Von Braunschbank.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sealed? Hah! It looks like they stitched a tarp over it and called it a day. Do you really think that will see you fighting at full strength any time soon?” Katalin’s voice taunted him further, accompanied by a raised eyebrow and half smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am at full strength! And I’ll hear no more of you’re useless chattering!” Nikolai suddenly snapped, thrusting his palms down against the operating slab and clutching it in some pain that was concealed only by his anger. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin didn’t even flinch. She knew when he was just barking like the dog he was. “So then why are you so eager to get battle ready? You were instructed to remain here and command the isles’ defences. We can’t have any </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> witches making an escape attempt…. Or worse, risk someone sneaking onto the island. The ignorance of our enemies is paramount to our success, you know.” Idly, Katalin examined her clawed nails while speaking. Her eyes only shifted back to Nikolai when she continued. “Or must every strategy you take part in involve some bullheaded cry of valor, letting the whole world know what we’re doing and where, as if God doesn’t hear your screaming at all hours to begin with.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do not take me for an imbecile, Katalin! Unlike you, I actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>led</span>
  </em>
  <span> armies. All while you tended to the heartland.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There you go, forgetting the works of me and my agents again.” Katalin rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you have the subtlety and grace of a jester with the dancing plague and two left feet.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As useful as your agents are,” Nikolai began while shaking his head and stepping away to fetch a worn towel to wipe his body mostly clean of blood. “Cunning will only win us small victories. Righteous might and purpose will ultimately decide the fate of our rightful rule; down on the battlefield below.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And how do you exactly intend to solidify that when we are in no position to fight that kind of battle? Time has literally come to a standstill, Nikolai. No matter how hard you pray to God, nothing will change until practical action is taken.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you think I actually intend to sit by and put the future of humanity and our clan in the hands of those Fate witches? My actions will be, and have always been, practical.” As Nikolai said this, the servants began to return with the armor and clothes their sire had demanded. He turned to face them with cold acknowledgement and held his arms out squarely to the side so that he could be properly secured in his wartime garments. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin turned dumbfoundedly to Nikolai, dropping her hands to her sides. “You mean to deliberately disobey an order? From your Queen?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Monarchies are never run by but one lord or lady. At times, we err, and it is up to our entrusted circles to account for those errors. Her decision to bind me here is just that: A mistake.” The servants had their lips sealed, and some wished they could have temporarily stitched ears shut so as to remain blissfully ignorant of such words. To say anything so seditious, let alone hear it, was grounds for brutal torture for anyone of their status, regardless of whether Nikolai’s assessment was right or wrong. “Those witches: They’re out there. They escaped, and they’re alive. I know it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re serious?” Katalin scoffed and scowled. “You mean to abandon your post all because you think that two children managed to run away and survive the freezing ocean waters as if they’re of any threat to us?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Were they children I wouldn’t have cared either way. These witches were skilled enough to evade me and defeat no small number of our forces. If secrecy is what you value most, then you should know that these two could have </span>
  <em>
    <span>easily</span>
  </em>
  <span> made it to shore and warned the mundane peasants and their leaders.” Nikolai grunted once as the armor and clothes were set upon him. With a lazy wave of dimission, he sent the servants away, leaving the vampire lords alone in the room. While taking a seat, Nikolai continued and began to affix his gauntlets and greaves. “Were it not for the sun, I wouldn’t have rested until their bodies were dragged ashore…. To say nothing of my ruined steed.” Luckily, dread-steeds were easy to repair, presuming there was enough meat-flesh to go around. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin put both of her hands to her face and shook it slowly. “Then before you get yourself executed for such foolish dereliction of duty, why don’t you go and see if there actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> any bodies to dredge up from the water. Good heaven’s Nikolai, you always jump to the most extreme of conclusions.” She felt like she was herding a bull with a leesh meant for a sheep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And when I produce nothing but salt and seawater, you can tell mother, should she ask, that I’m ensuring that every loose end is tied tightly.” Nikolai said while flexing his gauntleted fingers, forming a fist. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What has you so obsessed with this anyway? If they are just two nameless witches, you’d normally leave this to me or someone else to handle.” Katalin threw her arms up briefly in annoyance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“One of them is of the Von Braunschbanks. I saw her face. It has to be her.” Nikolai rose to his feet then and stepped to the operating-slab where his sword had been set by the servants. He pulled the blade from its sheath and examined it carefully. “It was my duty to see them eradicated, and by God, I will not allow her to escape my grasp.” He could hardly escape her to begin with. He didn’t even have a name save for the familial one, but the image of that dark-grey haired woman dominated his waking moments. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“She will die. She must die.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The statements repeated in his mind over and over again; his pride could manage nothing else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And? We razed their familial home and slaughtered all within. How does one witch surviving have you…. Ohhh nevermind.” Katalin groaned loudly and allowed her hands to drop from her face. “Do whatever you want. I don’t care to argue with you about pointless drivel like this. Just don’t do anything that would earn mother’s attention, and pray that whoever you appoint to watch over the isle in your stead does not fail you,” She walked from around the slab and sized Nikolai up one final time. “Or it will be on </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> head.” Her scowl became tired almost immediately. It was far too bright out to be dealing with this kind of nonsense, and so she removed herself from the room to rouse her agents and prepare for the nighttime activities. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai meanwhile contemplated the sharpness of his sword. It was as though he hadn’t even heard or considered a word that Katalin said. All that mattered now was the killing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Search the coast, and then all of England. I’ll run every family from their homes if I have to! She WILL fall by MY blade!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He clenched the pommel of the sword tightly, muttered a prayer to the God who would no doubt be disgusted with him, and sheathed it. He hummed lowly and calmed his tempers. He would need to wait until night to begin his quest in earnest. In the meantime, his elites needed to be assembled. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY BIKE!?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Upgraded it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda was on the verge of collapsing. She felt as faint as a seventeenth century man viewing a lovely ladies’ ankles. Her posture was wide, with legs bent slightly at the knees and stood apart as though she were squaring up with the sheriff of some western town. Her arms were up high, hands on her head as she stared in abject horror at the “Lune Rogue.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The words that marked the bike’s newly given name shined in chrome on the right side of the front-wheel guard. The crimson paint was freshly redone, and every accent and light was made new. The upholstery was fixed up as well, shooing away any notion that this bike may have been used for something as daring as magical-mercenary-work. All of that had Amanda over the moon. She hadn’t ever been able to get her bike looking quite as good as it did when she drove it off the lot, paid for on her blood-familys’ near limitless cards of course. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What had her mortified was the </span>
  <em>
    <span>side-car</span>
  </em>
  <span> that Constanze had attached. It fit seamlessly onto the design; everything made sense. It even had some technological bits and baubles in the console for the sidecar; the place Constanze expected to sit. It may have been put together from trash and other worn down materials, but Constanze’s magic had a way of making everything look perfect. The craft wasn’t the problem. It was about the image. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A SIDE-CAR!? YOU ADDED A FUCKING SIDE-CAR?!” Amanda turned her head, blinking rapidly at Constanze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.” Constanze gave a thumbs up, fighting off the intense desire to laugh at Amanda’s exaggerated despair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My baby….” Amanda shuffled over to it like a mother would to a broken child. She knelt down and pressed her head against it while closing her eyes. “How did she hurt you?” She whispered out while rubbing the hub. Constanze felt her face involuntarily stretch to form a smile, and had to stifle her giggling by clenching her lips shut. “IT’S NOT FUNNY!” Amanda instinctively knew Constanze was ready to burst. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was the nail in the coffin for Constanze. She laughed harder than she ever had in another’s presence. There was something pure and wholly good about how she laughed; her voice had been kept low and calm for so long, even when laughing at other things, that this felt like the first time she’d vocalized at all. She was bent over, clutching at her gut with a tear in her eye while Amanda whispered more sweet nothings to the Lune Rouge. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Benjamin and Winnie made their way outside of the strangely fortified house then, out into the surprisingly clear morning airs that had taken hold of Porthcurno. Both of them watched on from the front door, the one thing that wasn’t boarded up besides for the garage, and smiled warmly. When a few minutes had passed, Constanze managed to get a hold of herself, and Amanda took notice that her embarrassing behavior had been seen by someone that wasn’t her sister. She snapped to attention and into an upright, soldierly posture. “H-HEY!” She said far too loudly at first, only to clear her throat and recognize it a moment later. “I mean, hey.” She corrected, wiping her hair back into its typical, spiky position while forcing a cool and calm expression to her face. She loosened her shoulders and allowed all of the screaming to be taken care of internally about her </span>
  <em>
    <span>violated</span>
  </em>
  <span> bike. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Benjy and Winnie weren’t fooled and both of them turned their heads to the side to hide their shared shit-eating-grins. “Glad you two could make up!” Benjamin said mirthfully. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We never got a chance to say so, but we’re glad everythings alright between you two!” Winnie added, scratching her neck. “And with all of the crazy shite you two had to go through yesterday, we just wanted to thank ya is all.” She turned her head back to Amanda and Constanze, the latter of which having wiped the laughing tears from her eyes and returned to a mostly neutral state; that smile was still on her face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye! I maybe could’ve taken those freaky things if I knew they were coming, but with how suddenly it all happened, I was too busy fishin’ to even notice they flew right over town!” Benjamin said with complete confidence, as if everything he said was completely normal and sane when it absolutely wasn’t. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Too busy…. Nope, said I wasn’t going to ask, not going back on that.” Amanda wiped her sleeve across her eyes once and took a quick breath to recenter herself. “Anyways, it’s the least we can do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Constanze nodded in agreement while moving to join Amanda at her side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nonsense!” Benjamin stepped forward with a shake of his head. “The least yah could’a done is thank us for the beds and food and be on ya merry way without anythin’ else! This!” He gestured to the fortified house with all of the spikes, metal bits, and wooden reinforcements he had put up on it, and waved loosely toward the rest of the town. “Couldn't've happened without yah!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Couldn’t just leave.” Constanze reassured. “Not our way.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re truly sorry about all the superstitious gawking you had to deal with though. We’ve tried to convince some of the more reluctant folks ‘round here before that witches weren’t nothin’ to fear, but they never did listen.” Winnie sighed. “Hopefully now they won’t be so set in their ways. The world changes, and we have’ta change with it!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It ain’t your job to change everyone’s mind; it’s no big deal.” Amanda smiled. “We appreciate it though, honest. Having to explain everything about magic to everyone is… it gets tiring after the third time through.” She rubbed the back of her head and chuckled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, maybe if half the world wasn’t scared out of their bloody wits that you’re going to turn them into frogs, then that kinda info wouldn’t be so hard to find nowadays.” Benjamin spoke to the suppression of magical studies and information by many mundane governments. There were “enough” witches in the world by their standards, and the prospect of more people learning of their innate potential for magic frightened them greatly, and for good reason. The powers that be stood no chance of maintaining their oppressive grip on the world should humanity become one with magic once again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a general nod and hum of agreement that came with everyone present. Before Amanda and Constanze could shift the topic however, the crackle and crunch of debris from down the street caught their attention. A rickety green truck, meant for a small farm by the look, was being driven slowly over to the Gibson house; Maxwell was at the wheel. He honked the horn once and waved to signal his arrival, which brought the witches and Gibsons up to the edge of the lawn. “Good to see you’re all well!” Maxwell called from the window as the truck came to a halt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bout time!” Amanda joked. “You said five o’clock, it’s six!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I knew just by looking at you that if I actually arrived on time, you’d still be asleep.” Maxwell coyly retorted while undoing the key from the ignition and stepping out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze snorted. Maxwell was right to have assumed as much; she had to literally push Amanda out of bed at five thirty just to get her to wake up. Her snort earned a faux glare from Amanda before the flamingo haired witch turned back to Maxwell. “Well, clearly I </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed the rest</span>
  </em>
  <span>. We got a long drive ahead of us don’t we?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’ll be more than half a day’s time if we don’t stop. I’d expect to arrive when the sun’s long gone.” Maxwell surmised before he looked to Winnie and Benjamin. “I don’t think I’ve met these two. They're the folks who were housing you, yes?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.” Constanze nodded once and gestured to them. “Winnie. Benjamin.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A pleasure to be meeting ya!” Winnie casually curtsied and waved. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re Maxwell right? Another witchy type?” Benjamin said while stepping to meet the older man by his car. He reached out with an overly eager friendliness and shook Maxwell’s hand with both of his own. “Really nice to know our new friends here’ll be in good hands! You’re an honest bloke and I owe you one for helpin’ ‘em out with this vampire business, and for all you did last night! If you need a favor, no questions asked, just say the word.” Benjamin’s smile, much like his words, made his dubious sounding statements come off as the most pleasant and plain of things. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell smiled nervously, not having expected the vigor with which he was greeted. “Truly, it’s no trouble. I can’t turn away from someone in need. It’s not my way.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Benjamin laughed at that last statement as he pulled back from the shake. “You three really do belong together! You think the same!” The context was lost on Maxwell who could only clear his throat while Constanze and Amanda both chuckled weakly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wanting to get them back on track, Constanze interjected with a more serious question. “Where are we going? Location? Coordinates?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm? Oh, I just assumed you’d follow me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Too slow. We can go faster.” Constanze thumbed back to the bike that was out in the driveway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, no offense dude, but your truck doesn’t look uh… great.” It didn’t sound good to Amanda either, which was worse. “Did you like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> get it fixed? At all?” Were those tires even pumped correctly? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell wrinkled his nose, only to sigh. He didn’t have the energy or time to get upset over the small and inconsequential things. Instead, he craned his neck slightly to get a glance of the Lune Rouge. From where he could stand, now that he was focusing on it, he could sense quite a bit of arcane power about the vehicle, and that had him especially curious. “What kind of bike is that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It </span>
  <em>
    <span>used</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be a two thousand and eighteen Rogue Bravo,” The make of the bike was “Rogue,” and the company was “Bravo.” Amanda paused to turn to Constanze and summon up that faux leer again. “But </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span> it’s a freakin’ disaster on wheels!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze rolled her eyes. “You can thank me later.” After Amanda had recognized </span>
  <em>
    <span>true</span>
  </em>
  <span> genius, of course. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Fuck, I sound like Croix.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll be heading in then, if you three are all ready to go.” Winnie said while offering a polite wave. “Sorry we couldn’t get to know each other better, Maxwell, but it was nice meeting you!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We should get a drink together sometime, once this is all over!” Benjamin added with a wave of his own while the two sibling started back toward the house. “You two be good now! Best of luck! We’ll see ya around!” He said almost knowingly while the three witches offered their waves and goodbyes in turn. Once they closed the door behind them, the Gibson household was full of noise; they were hammering away at barricades from within now, as if the mountains of blockages and defences that Benjamin had thrown together with Amanda and Constanze weren’t enough. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Here’s hoping we did enough to keep ‘em safe.”  Somehow, Amanda had a feeling that Benjamin would </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> find a way to fish, even while hiding away from the likely raids. She crossed her arms about her chest and examined the house one final time while blowing air from her puffed up cheek. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm…. They’ll be ok.” Constanze reassured with a gentle nudge that brought Amanda back to the conversation with Maxwell. “About the locat—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“J-Just a moment….” Maxwell interrupted, having become transfixed on the Lune Rouge. He stepped past Constanze and Amanda with a whispered pardon, moving up along the driveway. Amanda and Constanzed stared and shrugged at one another before they tagged along. When Maxwell came near the bike, he could almost smell the magic about the thing. “It works, yes? Can you turn it on?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhhh, sure?” Amanda pulled out her keys and walked over to the newly transformed bike, stuck them in the ignition, and turned it. The exhaust pipes, gleaming in the clear sunlight above, roared to life with a freshness that hadn't graced Amanda’s ears in years. “Woo! Listen to that engine!” It softened the blow of the side-car bit, at least. She decided to rev it twice by the handle just to hear it again. “Yeahaheah! That’s how I like it!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re an embarrassment.” Constanze said flatly, only to be silenced by the overpowering noise from the bike. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What!? I couldn’t hear you!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re an embarrassment!” Constanze held her hands around her mouth to project her voice forward. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“O-OI!” Amanda stammered, only to be interrupted by an awe filled gasp from Maxwell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Magical engines!” The elder witch exclaimed as he knelt down to examine the emerald and crimson particles of arcane energies that gently drifted out of the exhaust and engine. “It runs on magic!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.” Constanze nodded proudly, folding her arms against her chest. “No gas needed. Needs to charge every now and then. Could be improved. Fine for now.” She wasn’t terribly impressed with her own work, but she wasn’t displeased with it either. Given the materials and tools she had, she found this project of hers to be quite the unexpected success. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For real?” Amanda smiled wide. “You should’a said that first </span>
  <em>
    <span>before</span>
  </em>
  <span> showing it to me! I don’t even mind the side-car now; that’s free travel, baby!” Finally, her pauperish funds weren’t going to be wholly spent on fueling her transport! “What’s got you so excited Maxy? First time seeing something that came after the eighties?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell bristled again, peering up from below to stare annoyedly at Amanda before he groaned and looked back down at the engine and exhaust. “It’s certainly my first time seeing something quite like this. I never imagined that I’d come across man-made-machines and magic being so intricately woven together. It’s… seamless.” The closest he’d come to seeing magic and machines at all being joined lay in the Rust Fae, but that was normal for them, less so for devices on Earth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Put a bit of everything into it.” Constanze said while hopping into the side-car seat. The dashboard in that oval shaped addition bore several small computer screens, a small speaker, and retractable keyboard, and a slot meant to hold her wand so that the magitronical machinery could be adequately powered. “GPS, onboard computer with witch-net access, arcane tele-coms. The works.” Croix had taught her well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda whistled. “Daaamn. Where the hell did you get all the parts for this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’d be surprised what people throw away.” Constanze laid back in the comfortable seat. “Now; where are we—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All of the excitement Amanda had for all the new functions her bike had fell from her face like an avail off of a skyscraper. Her heart sank. “YOU BUILT THIS OUT OF TRASH!? MY BIKE IS MADE OUT OF TRASH!?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mein gott, Amanda! Enough!” Constanze palmed at her face hard enough for the slap to be heard. Amanda meanwhile undid the key from the ignition and reconciled with the reality that was her shiny-trash-bike. “Maxwell.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y-Yes?” The elder witch wasn’t really sure how to respond to Amanda’s outburst, and found himself awkwardly standing by just behind the vehicle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where are we going.” It was a question, but Constanze said it in such a way that it came off as a statement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yes.” Maxwell cleared his throat. “We’ll be heading to Loch Monar. If you want to get ahead of me in this fancy bike of yours, you’re free to ride toward Cannich. It’s a town near the Loch; we can go together from there.” He then made his way to the front of the bike, passing by the grieving Amanda. “My cabin’s a bit secluded, and the order hall itself is hidden with magic, deep in the Sgùrr na Lapaich mountain range.” Meanwhile, Amanda started to grumble something to herself while heading into the house from the garage to fetch their luggage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why the secrecy?” Constanze asked curiously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Amanda was right when she said we have quite the collection of ancient curios. We can’t risk graverobbers and agents from mundane governments finding our most sacred or powerful implements. Who knows what they’d do with ‘em.” After what Maxwell and his comrades experienced in the Great War, they knew better than to leave their halls and bases unconcealed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm….” Constanze hummed thoughtfully. She had known that signing up to work with any old capital enterprise or corporation would see her talents used and abused, but she hadn’t suspected anything more malicious than a desire for greater wealth from her would-be employers. Though, after Ludinghal, she was becoming less and less surprised to learn that the world was darker than she thought. “Cannich, right?” She tried to push her mind away from those dour thoughts for now though. She wanted to hit the road. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye. Cannich.” Maxwell nodded once and pursed his lips while Constanze stuck her wand into the designated slot and punched in the town’s name on the magitronical GPS. When Constanze hummed approvingly at the working programs before her, Maxwell interjected. “I do have to ask, after seeing </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and knowing you made it all.” He gestured to the Lune Rouge in all its refined, yet trashy glory. “Are you a witch-smith, by chance?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze perked her eyes up from the display of the GPS as it honed in on Cannich and plotted a course for the ride ahead of them. “I guess.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You guess?” Maxwell almost chuckled at that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm. I work with stuff like this a lot. Came naturally to me as a kid, but I wasn’t trained.” Constanze hummed once more then in thought as she considered the reason for his question, Ibrahim had asked it before, down in the sanctum, and Vaal herself was supposedly the first witch-smith to have existed. Again, it felt very convenient, as though she and Amanda didn’t just stumble into these roles and situations, but Constanze wasn’t sure how they could be led so directly along that path. Chance and circumstance had to be involved somehow; no force is so powerful as to truly dictate fate all on its own. “Is it a big deal if I am?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, not necessarily.” Maxwell scratched at his neck. “Witch-smiths are a rare thing now-a-days, and back when magic was thriving, they still weren’t the easiest to come by. And, of course, now that you know more about Vaal, it should be obvious that witch-smiths have been integral to the order ever since its inception.” He paused to allow Constanze to speak, but found her only raising a brow curiously. “I’ll keep it short since Amanda should be back soon. Essentially, the order has always been divided into those who dedicate themselves to either the art of hunting, or smithing; witch smithing specifically. Everyone is trained in magical combat of course, and is expected to help quell any threats, but it’s the hunters who are tasked with handling the most perilous of duties, while the smiths are entrusted with keeping their coven’s gear and equipment in working order. Those dedicated to the smithing craft also worked to forge new weapons, and imbue enchantments onto previously mundane items; sometimes for the comrades in the order, and other times for the people of the land. We can’t be everywhere at once, and we have always encouraged communities to be self sufficient.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze listened carefully to Maxwells’ words, and used them to construct some sort of image. She could imagine herself, or any witch with her ability for that matter, going about life as one such smith. She found the duties, responsibilities, and labors surrounding such a profession to be well in line with her own work. The order may be dead, but if there was anyone who could fix something that others may find broken beyond repair, Constanze knew it was her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s for a good cause too. Can’t complain. Don’t have anywhere to really go after all of this anyway.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She reasoned inwardly before speaking outwardly. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Maxwell nodded and smiled at that.  There was still quite a bit to chew on, and she was hoping to talk to Amanda about this whole Balefire business anyway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Speaking of her sister, Amanda trudged out of the house with three suitcases in tow, stubbornly bringing all of them at once instead of one at a time. She barely squeezed through the door only to nearly drop one as she stepped down from the short stairs leading into the garage. She sighed with relief when she managed to keep her balance and made her way over to the Lune Rouge. With as much grace as could be expected, she dropped the suitcases down and flicked her wand at them lazily, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Minimasius.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>rendering them tiny and easy to store on the sides of the bike. “There. I got everything. We good to go, or do you wanna go find a broken blender at the dump and use it to make a seat warmer?” She was still a little miffed about her bike being partially comprised of trash, even though it looked brand new. In response, Constanze simply raised a singular finger without even turning around to look at Amanda; her expression was plain. Amanda fired back with two pleasant gestures of her own, leaning over to make sure Constanze could see them in the side-mirrors. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell held a hand over his eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Are these really the ones you had to choose?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He thought to himself, as if Vaal and Jehanne could hear him. “Are we ready to go then?” He asked with a groan. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amidst a few more seconds of shared middle fingers, Constanze replied. “Mhm. We’ll likely get ahead of you. Find us on the edge of town. We’ll send up a magical flare if you can’t find us.” Then she lowered her hand and got back to managing the side-car computers. She managed to upload the documents Lotte sent over yesterday about vampires, so they at least had something to discuss and look over during the long drive, and Lotte herself would no doubt phone in eventually. “Ready when you are, schwester.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t need to tell me twice.” Amanda said while strapping in the last of their luggage. Maxwell meanwhile gave a wave as he headed down to his truck. “Be seeing you soon Maxy! Heheh.” She offered a quick two fingered salute in parting and half smiled, having picked up on the fact that Maxwell wasn’t a fan of the whole “Maxy” moniker; all in good fun. She rounded the bike on the drivers side and straddled it properly. With her wand, she summoned up a helmet as red as the bike she rode with a tinted black visor. She shot a grinning glance toward Constanze. “You sure this thing’s street legal anymore?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did legality ever stop you? At all?” Constanze coyly retorted while summoning up her own helmet, which resembled a cheesy open-faced biker cap with a singular spike on top, and a strap to go around the chin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda slid her helmet on and rolled her shoulders while leaning slightly forward, getting into a comfortable riding position. “Hell no! And it ain’t about to stop us now!” Her words rang out proudly just before she turned hard on the key. The engines roared to life once more with a vigor that matched the burning in Amanda’s soul. “Conz! Hit the radio!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze followed through and flicked a few knobs and switches until the music came to life. It was set to one of Amanda’s preferred selections when she was in the U.K. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Coming at you hard and fast this morning on B.P.A. with Britain’s Best Punk and Alternative hits; keep it real, keep it cool, and keep on rocking Britain.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The tagline recording was followed up with the beginning of a particular song; something about a bullet with the wings of a butterfly: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“The world is a vampire….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Then the bass kicked in. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Set to draayayaaaain….”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda and Constanze could only stare at each other with tired eyes at how the universe seemed to taunt them with a song that began with those lyrics. A moment later, they chuckled and shook their heads. Amanda revved the bike twice before setting off from out of the driveway, speeding up fast once they’d made it onto the road proper. Luck willing, it’d be smooth sailing all the way up toward Scotland. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>An hour or so later….</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Lune Rouge was tearing up the highways, headed north toward Cannich with Constanze as the co-pilot. They’d just entered a fairly clear length of the journey, down a straightaway path for miles on end with few to no cars in sight. Given it was Wednesday morning, it seemed too quiet for roads like this to not be flooded with workbound traffic. They’d kept the radio fixed on tunes so far; neither of the witches were eager to learn how bad things may have been yesterday. It was too unlikely for the attacks from the Bathorys to only hit Porthcurno. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The relative calm of the highway at least gave them the peace of mind to chat and drive on subjects of interest. Constanze pulled up the notes on vampires and strained to raise her voice so that she could be heard. “We should give this a read! If we’re going to be fighting them, we need to know the best approach!” She turned down the music in turn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda kept her eyes on the road and opened her ears to listen. “Sounds good. From the top then: What’s it say?” She was more used to talking above the noise of her motorcycle, and so she sounded more natural.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze cleared her throat and focused her eyes on the primary screen in front of her and read from it word for word at a partially shouted volume: “Vampires are a semi-magical subsection of humans. A human becomes a vampire in two ways: The most common method involves someone who is already a vampire conducting a short and simple ritual with a non-vampiric individual. The vampire-to-be is placed within a triangular symbol drawn on the ground, is stripped nude, and then bled from all major arteries by way of the vampire who is turning them with bites. Once the body is bled entirely dry save for the blood in the brain, the vampire will use a sharp implement to graze their own heart and bleed at least one drop of blood into the initiates mouth. So long as the drop is imbibed, the transformation process will begin, and the body of the initiate shall revive itself within several minutes and begin functioning as normal. For a time of around two to six weeks, it will continue to produce its own blood, but will slowly cease the need for all major bodily functions. The skin will become corpse-like in coloration, the eyes will become more vibrant, and the upper canines will grow to upwards of one half of three quarters of an inch. The second method is—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey uh, Conz? Loving the biology lesson, but this doesn’t seem super useful. We’re trying to </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill</span>
  </em>
  <span> vampires, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>make</span>
  </em>
  <span> them.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m being thorough. Any bit of info could be critical. Good research isn’t rushed.” Constanze pointedly retorted before focusing back on the notes. “The second method is less common, and requires a much more complex ritual involving a similar bloodletting process, but it must be accompanied by chanting a spell in Far-Lunar…. Far-Lunar? What the hell is that?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Beats me. You’re the one who wanted to be thorough, so keep going.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze rolled her eyes. “In Far-Lunar tongue. Runes and sigils in said language are also required, but it is generally an unstudied and otherwise mysterious process that vampires who undergo it seldom share in great detail. The process for transforming from this ritual is the same.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda wrinkled her nose beneath the helmet. This sounded way weirder than what she heard about from pop-culture sources; not that those sources were ever expected to be right. “Ok, so what else?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze gave a glance over the next section of the document. “Looks like stuff about the vampire life-cycle, how they grow, powers, that sort of thing.” Before she could begin though, the right most display by the notes lit up. A ringing phone symbol shook on the screen with the ID of the caller below it. “Lotte’s calling.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Patch her through! She probably read through all of this already, so she can help out.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“On it.” Constanze twisted her wand that was lodged in the dashboard to the right and whispered a small spell to herself, allowing for the connection to become stable between the bike and Lotte’s crystal ball. When Lotte’s face came through the initial distortion on the screen, Constanze leaned in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte reeled initially and turned down the volume on her end with a downward motion from her wand. Then she spoke up as loud as she could without being unreasonable. “H-Hello? Can you guys hear me?” Constanze adjusted the volume on her end as needed before giving a thumbs up. Amanda did the same, flashing her right hand in from off screen to show she was listening. “Oh, good! Are… you guys driving?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Headed to Scotland. Amanda’s driving.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t remember it having a side-car.” Lotte scratched her cheek idly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Made some adjustments.” Constanze nodded. “Glad you called. We were reading through those notes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The one about how vampires work, right?” Constanze grunted in confirmation of Lotte’s query. “Great! Did you guys need me to go through it with you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It would help, for sure. You read through it all, right?” Amanda asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm! I even took some notes of my own so I could keep all of the important and specific details organized.” Lotte checked around her desk for a moment or so before her having an “aha!” moment when she found the notes in question under some other documents. Her desk and room was usually </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> clean, but when she went on a sleuthing bender, everything became a mess of pinned notes and stickied reminders. Without a greater context, one might mistake her room for one that belonged to a conspiracy theorist with all of the magical lines drawn between things. “Did you guys start already?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Read the bit about the rituals. Very early.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right, right! I’ll take over from there.” Lotte straightened her documents out in front of the crystal ball before she set to reading them thoroughly. “So, the juiciest details are up next. It talks all about vampire behaviors and how they live. Apparently, newer vampires are called ‘fledgelings,’ and if those fledgelings are part of a brood or clan, then they serve fully blooded vampires in a sort of hierarchy. Sometimes it's multiple full blooded vampires acting as leaders, or just one vampire who holds power over the rest of the brood, even if they aren’t fledgelings. It can get more complex from there, especially because most vampires tended to concentrate around noble houses and courts.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That explains these bathory Bitches then, but what about the feeding habits; you know, drinking blood and stuff. They need to do that, right?” Amanda spotted Lotte’s diligent reading from the periphery, but otherwise kept her focus on the road.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze interjected. “It says here that: All vampires must imbibe at least one pint every week or risk entering a manic state of violence. Usually, vampires who enter this state die soon after, as they either reveal themselves to the public, in the case of lone or covert vampires, or there are no easily accessible sources of blood nearby, and so they waste away.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s right! Blood drinking is quintessential to vampires, both in terms of how they organize and how they live.” Lotte noted with a scholarly air to her words. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How they organize? What’s the need for blood gotta do with that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Everything!” Lotte urged. “Historically, a lot of them gathered in clans or broods, and especially in the upper or ruling classes of society specifically </span>
  <em>
    <span>because</span>
  </em>
  <span> they had a much greater chance of surviving </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> thriving. You can read on and see how it describes vampire clans that were formed out in the wild or from underclasses; they got crushed before they can make any substantial gains.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Makes sense.” Constanze went to the section Lotte described and grunted. “Either the bigger clans with power absorb them, or the unturned rulers are able to get their citizens to drive them out. When it's the vampires ruling, the people have no choice.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Exactly. That’s why the only other vampire’s you’ll ever hear about are all on their own. They live shadowy and secluded lives, usually wandering from one place to the next while taking blood from anywhere they can.” Lotte explained. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s neat and all, but how does that help us?” For how long the drive ahead of them was, Amanda was still impatient to get to the parts that concerned her most. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze sighed. “Powers next. Keeping ourselves alive comes first.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine, fine.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze squinted at the print before her while Lotte switched to that section of her notes. The former spoke. “Vampires possess a host of attributes and abilities that separate them from unturned humans. They do not age in the traditional sense, do not need to eat, drink, sleep, or fill any bodily need outside of their thirst for blood. Vampires also have a profound resilience to all elements; extreme heat and cold does not impede them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Worst of all though, they regenerate!” Lotte added. “They can suffer wounds that would kill or knock out almost anyone else and recover from them. If they lose a limb, it can be reattached and healed over time, but thankfully it doesn’t just grow back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Heh, clearly a bullet to the brain does the job.” Amanda said while giving a knowing glance toward Constanze before refocusing on the road. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmhm.” Constanze grunted in approval before she continued on about the abilities of vampires. “They have enhanced stamina, speed, and strength. Says here that it might be because their brains stop inhibiting their muscles, so they’re using the body’s full strength.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t that just cause them to tear themselves apart? Ain't that function supposed to like, protect us from ourselves?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte hummed thoughtfully. “It might be because of the regeneration. If they suffered any internal wounds, we don’t see it, and it probably just gets healed almost instantly.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anything else?” Amanda queried.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s vampiric seduction, but that only works when you’re not actively trying to resist it.” Constanze clarified. “That seems to be it. Surprised they can’t turn into bats.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know! Real life vampires are so </span>
  <em>
    <span>boring</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Lotte scoffed as her mind went to the realm of Nightfall where vampires were fantastical and romantic. The statement earned her a stare from Constanze that seemed to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Really?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>just by how it looked. “W-Well it’s true! They can’t become mist, turn into wolves—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda whistled for attention. “Hey, dork one and dork two, let’s get back on track.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For once, Constanze was agreeing with Amanda’s impatience. “Mm. Weaknesses then. We already know destroying the head works. Simple enough.” Constanze read further, being careful not to skip any lines. “Fully piercing or destroying the heart works too. Doesn’t have to be a stake.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh thank fucking god. I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> about to run around with a big sharpened stick.” Amanda knew that would be awkward, and more importantly, it lacked any sense of style. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you don’t have to worry about crosses. Those don’t work either.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda felt a weight fall from her shoulders. “Music to my fucking ears!” Constanze snorted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte giggled. “W-Well, it would be kind of weird if crosses worked and other religious symbols didn’t. Being serious though: The only true weakness vampires have is direct sunlight. It kills them really fast!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze clicked her tongue. “And it says here that as long as you destroy the body enough, they won’t be able to regenerate….” Then she raised an eyebrow. “And there’s more: Fire and most forms of pure magical energy can create wounds that aren’t easily regenerated.” She began to quote the work. “It is for this reason that most persons who seek to slay vampires imbue their weapons with fire, use fire magic, or otherwise rely on purely magical attacks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So they’re weak to magic, but decide to attack a school for witches? I mean, sure, they’re winning, but what the hell kinda logic is that?” Amanda chided. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who knows.” Lotte shrugged. “What’s important is that we stop them!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, they picked the wrong witchs to fuck with; I’ve got fire in spades for ‘em!” Were it not for the fact that she was driving, Amanda would have shown off just how much fire she had to give. “And Conz, doesn’t that gun of yours shoot magic bullets?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Slugs.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about snails?” Lotte quirked her head to the side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ugh.” Constanze palmed her face. “Is that everything?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s some more stuff, but it’s mostly history and some societal things. We know enough about that for what we’re trying to do.” Lotte said in such a way as to avoid saying “kill them,” even if she was very much aware that killing the Bathorys would be necessary to saving Luna Nova. She wasn’t against violence when it was warranted, but she wasn’t exactly the most eager of the New Nine whenever a scrap broke out. She usually ended up screaming and running away with Barbara when things got really bad. “Though I wanted to ask something…. It’s a bit personal, but I noticed that you two have been kinda different.” When Constanze and Amanda both looked strangely to Lotte, the latter doing so only for a moment, she stammered and dropped the papers onto the desk as she waved both hands in a calming manner. “I-I mean! In a g-good way! Like….” She may as well just come out and say it. “You two were calling each other ‘sis’ yesterday. You didn’t always do that, right?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Right.” Amanda and Constanze said in unison, again, to both of their groans. Constanze continued, given she had been afforded more room to focus on things like that since she wasn’t driving. “It’s kind of complicated. Short version: Me and Amanda have similar problems with family. We talked a lot about stuff. We have a good history… and we wanted to be closer. Agreed we were like sisters, so why not just call each other that?” She seemed somewhat nervous when discussing it, but not out of shame, but because it was still such a new and tender subject. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte brought the tips of her fingers to steeple and cover her mouth in a cute looking display of surprise. Her eyebrows were raised, and her tone came off like a bird chirping. “O-Oh!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeaaah. We didn’t make a big deal of it because, well, it was kinda a thing between us two. It seemed weird to like, talk about that when there’s a whole blimp full of vampires and monsters trying to kill us all.” Amanda was glad that her flushed face was hidden behind her helmet. She too didn’t feel any shame for admitting it, but she, like Constanze, wasn’t exactly accustomed to this new status, though both of them loved it equally. “I mean, I had two shit brothers, and she was an only child. As far as I’m concerned, I never had a family, and Constanze…. Well, you know.” Amanda wasn’t about to speak any more of that business. “What’s important is that we’ve got each other now. Us and you guys are all the family we need.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Us?” Lotte asked while holding that same pose and expression.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Like, the gang. You know. Red, Green, and Blue team are tight. We’re like a family; one big, dumb, gay family. Right sis?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.” Constanze gave a thumbs up. She didn’t feel an attachment to any of the other New Nine like she did to Amanda, and Sucy was the only other person she was intimate with, but they were all still family in some sense of the word. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s…” Lotte couldn’t hide her wide, Akko-like smile. “SO CUTE!!!!” Her volume was loud enough to make Amanda flinch, in spite of the loudness of the bike as it sped along the sparsely populated highway. “Ohmygodthat’ssowholesomeImightjustcry! EEEE!!!” She was emoting with all of her body, throwing her arms around and pivoting as she spoke without any breaths between her words. “We’reonebigfamilyandit’samazing! ThisisjustlikethatvolumeinNightfallwhereBellemetthatreallyadorablepiratecrewwho—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“LOTTE!” Constanze and Amanda shouted, this time meaning to do so together, as it was the only reliable way they would be able to stop Lotte from geeking out too hard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“BWAH!” Lotte felt her chair buckle as she nearly fell to the floor. Through a bit of heavy breathing, she managed to stiffen her expression and very deliberately straighten her chair and shirt out; the collar had gotten all messy. “Sorry about that. I don’t know what came over me.” Lotte absolutely knew, as she readjusted her cocked glasses, but chose to not acknowledge that her lapse in decorum had even occurred. Her tone was so forcibly sterilized that one might mistake her for Diana. She was quick to go back to her normal self. “S-So, is it ok for me to say you guys are sisters too?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm….” Constanze didn’t have any immediate objections, nor did she feel she had any delayed ones either. Something had her hesitating though, likely the fact that she hadn’t even considered how others were supposed to handle this. “Sssssure?” She looked to Amanda for approval; this was a sisterly effort after all, and so both should agree.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhhh, yeah. Fuck it. Why not!” Amanda didn’t really think it was a “fuck it” kind of matter, but she wanted to play it cool and not reveal how mushy she felt inside about the prospect of hearing someone else refer to them as sisters. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then I’ll be sure to do that!” Lotte nodded confidently and clapped her hands together. “Ahhh… it’s so good to see you better Constanze. I didn’t get to say much with everything going on, but I was really worried about you!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mm... mmmm….” Constanze faltered in her response. She wasn’t keen on remembering the time she spent locked away in her room. She could swear her foot still had a scar or two where the glass bits from her phone dug in too deep. “Better now. Not perfect… but… I’ll… be ok.” She wanted for a paper and pen now, but wasn’t about to pull them over just for her anxiety, even though Amanda wouldn’t have thought twice about doing just that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda sensed the stress in Constanze and moved to change the subject. “We’ll be alright Lotte. Why don’t you tell us how that post is coming. You got a draft yet?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah!” Lotte suddenly remembered that aspect of this whole affair. She hadn’t forgotten to tend to it, at least. “It’s… mostly done, but I kinda need a few details. I was thinking: If we’re going to be asking witches to help us out, we need to meet up in person right. We can’t just say what day to arrive at Luna Nova, because we don’t even know how long we’ll need to prepare.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze mouthed a thank you to Amanda before turning back to Lotte and summoning up her strength to fight off the sudden onset of anxiety. “Don’t worry about dates. Locations. Tell them to go to Blytonbury. You can stay in contact with some of them there, right?” Lotte nodded in agreement, taking notes for later when she would finish up the draft. “Then keep them updated. Hopefully we’ll be quick. Get this solved soon.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte slowed down her writing when she got to the part about Blytonbury. “Why… why Blytonbury?” Something wasn’t making sense to her. Blytonbury was familiar, of course; it was where the witches of Luna Nova often went to relax and carouse the town. But it wasn’t the place where a leyline portal or anything was located. Right? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The realization, or rather, the altered memories hit Constanze a moment after. It wasn’t making much sense to her either. “Mmmm.” She grunted nervously, pausing with pursed lips. “Leyline!” She blurted out. Yes! There was a leyline there. Of course. There had to be. How else could the witches get between Blytonbury and Luna Nova so easily?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda felt a sudden pang in her head; it was starting to hurt like a migraine was coming on. She slowed the bike down so she could think straight. “Yeah, but the leyline doesn’t…. I mean, it….” An intense feeling of dread gripped them all. Why couldn’t they remember?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought there was a big tower in Blytonbury that matched the… the….” Lotte couldn’t finish the sentence. It felt like something was grabbing her tongue, preventing her from uttering anything that could suggest that a tower used to exist near Luna Nova itself; which was never the case besides, the New-Moon tower, of course. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze winced and grunted annoyedly as a wave of pain overtook her head. She brought her hands to her temples and clenched her eyes shut. “One in Blytonbury and one…. No, we never had—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well how the fuuuck else did we, like, get… there?” Amanda was starting to feel like she was drunk. Her words were slurring and—There was blood. The copper taste was unmistakable. Why was her nose bleeding? She slowed the bike further, fearing she might crash if she wasn’t careful, and looked to her right. She saw Constanze’s own nose starting to bleed, and Lotte was fishing for a tissue herself. “Ok, fuck this, I’m pulling over!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll… call you guys back!” Lotte said with an unexpected dash of fear in her voice as she looked about her room, as though some presence had entered in unnoticed. Her feed was cut then with the wave of a wand as the Lune Rouge pulled up on the side of the road. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Twenty or so minutes later….</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda was leaned up against the Lune Rouge with her helmet hanging off one of the handles. Her face was cleaned of blood and the headache had mercifully subsided. Her eyes were cast skyward as grey clouds began to roll in. If one thing could be guaranteed on this journey, it was rain; England’s weather was nothing but predictable. She breathed in and out deliberately until she heard Constanze climbing back up from the downwardly sloped hill past the guard rails. She needed some time alone to collect herself for more reasons than just the inexplicable headache and nosebleeds. “Feeling better?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Constanze grunted once in exertion as she hopped over the guard rail, and once more in reply. “Mmmmm. Mm.” She shook her head, not in the negative, but so that she could clear away any strange feelings that lingered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I got no idea what the fuck that was either.” Amanda replied, having understood Constanzes’ grunts and expressions well enough to know what she thought. “And, like, to be totally clear,” Amanda stepped forward, pausing in her speech to glance around as if to ensure the coast was clear. “That wasn’t some freak coincidence, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No way.” Constanze shook her head. “Lotte felt it too.” She then moved past Amanda to rummage her paper and pen from the miniaturized luggage. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Maximozious.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She uttered, causing the gathered items to return to their normal size. With a quick bit of writing, she communicated to Amanda: “Call Lotte back. Make sure she’s ok.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda gave a silent thumbs up and stepped back to the bike. She fiddled with the keyboard and gadgets for a short while before Constanze offered her wand. After it was properly fixed into the slot, Amanda was able to send Lotte a ring. Twenty or so seconds passed before Lotte’s face was on the display once more. “Hello? Everything alright?” Two lightly stained red tissue papers were in the corner of the camera’s view. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We were callin’ to ask you that.” Amanda cracked her knuckles idly before exhaling once with relief. “We’re ok. Kinda freaked out, but it’s nothing we can’t handle. What about you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I’m alright. It hurt for a while, but it went away after I found some ice.” Lotte’s eyes fell to the desk before her as she searched for the words, being mindful not to think of specifically whatever it was that caused that strange incident. “We were talking about where we should ask everyone to meet up, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Constanze nodded and approached to enter the view of the camera. She held up her paper, “Tell them to go to Porthcurno.” And then flipped it around to write out something else more hastily. “Let's not talk about whatever that was.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m with you on that, sis.” Amanda said while dusting off her jacket. “And like we were saying before: Just keep everyone who goes there updated on what’s going on. We don’t want ‘em thinking this is some kinda prank or scam. And make sure they don’t run off to Luna Nova to get themselves killed all on their own.” She could only hope they would actually get aid that would require such instruction, and so talking about it as if it were a foregone conclusion eased her mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte found her notes from earlier once more and gave a nod. “You got it! I’ll try and make that post sometime tonight or tomorrow morning.” Just in the knick of time, some knocking came from her door, followed by her fathers’ speaking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hei, Lotte! You wanted to talk to us about something right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrs. Jannson spoke as well. “We just got back! Sorry we couldn’t be around much yesterday.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte turned her head to the side to project her voice. “Hetki vain, Mama!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh? Are you on the phone with your friends? Goodness, we were worried that something terrible had happened to them after you weren’t able to reach them!” Mrs. Jannson said while poking her head in the door. “Hei, hei!” She waved with a cheery smile. Amanda and Constanze waved in return, with smiles of their own that were awkward, toothy, and very forced. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte turned her body in full with a partially mortified expression. She hadn’t gotten around to telling them about anything regarding the state of Luna Nova. “W-Wait a minute! I’ll be d-down soon!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok, ok! Talk to you soon”! Mrs. Jannson’s poked in head was then replaced by the wider frame of Mr. Jannson butting in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We hope to see your friends by the house sometime. We were thinking we could celebrate with a big, old fashioned Finnish dinner!” A big wave from the big man saw him leaving and gingerly shutting the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte sighed anxiously; that wasn’t a conversation she was looking forward to. “I’ll uh… talk to you guys some other time, ok?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“S-Sounds good Lotte.” Amanda chuckled weekly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good luck.” Constanze wrote out before speaking. “You’ll need it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I knoooowww….” Another sigh from Lotte accompanied a motion from her wand that ended the call between them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda rolled her shoulders and neck once, cracking the latter with a contented “Oooh,” before she reached for her helmet. “Set to get back on the road?” She asked as her head turned to the side toward Constanze who was already summoning up her spiked hat once more. A thumbs up was all she needed in response. “Cool. Let’s try to have a half normal day then. Getting tired of things making sense only summa’ the time.” </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nearly Twelve hours later….</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They rode hard and they rode long. There weren’t any stops save the occasional bathroom break and a quick pass by a convenience store that seemed abandoned. The windows were crashed in, likely by some possessed monster, but mercifully, no bodies were found. What people and cars they passed by were equally harrowing. The traffic leading into major cities was something managed to circumvent with some magical manipulation and by taking more roundabout paths to their destination. The attacks hadn’t been massive, but the suddenty, brutality, and timing of them had the country in a tizzy. No one felt safe in their own homes anymore, so they fled northward and into the major cities where the creatures were not yet sighted or where the monsters had avoided respectively. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The outskirts of Cannich were coming into view over a long and barely noticeable incline. It was a simple town with little to it, much like Porthcurno, minus the seaside affects and businesses. It was nestled in the valleys between the Sgùrr na Lapaich and Càrn Eige mountain ranges. It was safe this far north, relatively speaking, but that didn’t put either of the witch sisters at ease. They pulled up to a gas station, not for need given the magical nature of the Lune Rouge’s engine, but because nowhere else seemed to make sense as a convenient and easily locatable pit stop. Ultimately, they were waiting on Maxwell now, and had been for about half an hour or so while in relative silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze had busied herself with tinkering on the Lune Rouge. It was working fine, but she felt there were improvements that could be made, and some newer parts looked a little too loose for her liking after just one long ride. She’d see those bits and bolts fixed up to pass the time, and to keep her mind from lingering on the ever present rage that simmered beneath her skin. Amanda, Lotte, and Maxwell to a degree had all helped to distract her from those toxic and wrathful emotions, but they hadn’t quelled them fully; that was up to Constanze. With her spiked cap set on her seat in the side-car, Constanze ducked her head out from under the Lune Rouge which was raised on a magically made slope, and subsequently dismissed that same platform with a snap of her fingers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda, having been sat on a nearby fence, turned her head at the sound of the bike gently bumping its tires back down onto solid ground. “Everything fine with her?” A nod and beckoning hand motion from Constanze brought Amanda to jump off of her perch. She grunted on the land and wiped her jeans off clean before she strode over to meet with her sister, hands stuck in her jacket to keep them out of the cold, nighttime Scotland airs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“At least the rain stopped for now.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> All they needed was to catch a cold or flu in the midst of this. “What’s up?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not much.” Constanze replied idly while considering the bike one last time. She decided that all was well and good enough to pack it in and set aside her tools. With simple telekinetic magics from her wand, she willed her pieces off of the ground into her pack that was hanging off of the back of the bike. “Wanted to talk some. Stuff’s on my mind.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m here for stuff, and I got stuff I’ve been thinking about too.” Amanda coyly quipped, gesturing with her head over toward a bench near the gas station itself. “Let’s grab a seat.” As if they hadn’t been sitting enough, but there was admittedly something different about a space with more legroom like a simple bench compared to the cramped side-car and saddled rider’s seat. They walked over and plopped themselves down with shared sighs of relief. For a day that was almost wholly filled with driving, they weren’t feeling very well rested, Amanda especially, but this wasn’t her first cross-country trek. “What’s on your mind?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mind if I write?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why would I?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze smiled softly and pulled out the pen and paper from her navy jacket. “Appreciated.” She wrote out. “I wanted to talk about—” She paused, her pen pressed to start a new word but her mind wasn’t sure which word to actually write. A moment's hesitation later, she continued. “Vaal and Jehanne. The Balefire. It’s had me thinking.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Believe me, I’ve been all over the place in my head on that.” Amanda wasn’t lying by any means. Ever since Constanze connected the dots and Maxwell explained himself fully, Amanda wasn’t really sure where to begin. “Can’t really believe that it’s all coming full circle like this, y’know? Seems too… what’s the word.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Convenient.” Constanze wrote. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda snapped her fingers. “Bingo.” She pursed her lips then and relaxed her posture, leaning back into the curve of the bench. “Like, of all the things we had to run into down there, it was… well… </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” A flippant wave of her right hand signaled that she spoke in regard to just about everything that happened down in the sanctum. “And now we run into some old dude who knows all about the stuff we went through; I mean, what all of that stuff means, I guess.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze wrote out three words and underlined them twice. “We were set up.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You think?” Amanda was genuinely curious. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That weird plant’s behind it all. Maybe not Maxwell, but we were meant to be there.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know if that makes me more or less comfortable.” Amanda kicked her legs out and crossed them at the ankles while throwing her arms behind her head. Her eyes were skyward once more. “Does that mean it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> trying to help us, or does it got other plans?”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know if that’s important.” Constanze paused to write out a bit more. “Not right now at least.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda read her sister’s words from her peripherals. “I mean, yeah, obviously, but what if this guy turns out to be some freak who lures people out into the woods to eat them.” She joked; </span>
  <em>
    <span>mostly</span>
  </em>
  <span> joked, that is. “Being serious though: How do you feel about it? I personally think it’s all pretty sus, but you and him seem to get along a little better.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hardly. You just like to push everyone’s buttons.” Constanze wrote while cocking her head forward with a hint of accusation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And? Heh.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze shook her head quietly. “I think I want to learn more about this order. He said a lot of its members were witch-smiths. There’s a lot I could learn if they have any old schematics lying around.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No shit…. You’re thinking of joining up with that guy? Like, longterm?” Amanda fully turned her head to face Constanze now, appearing a bit apprehensive about the statement Constanze made.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I never said I was joining him.” Constanze spoke, deciding she was fine to talk now that she was getting into the flow of the conversation. “I don’t have anywhere else to go. Family’s dead. Home’s ruined. Other home’s a school. And I don’t have any work lined up.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The realization hadn’t even clicked for Amanda until now; Constanze really was without a path forward once this Bathory problem was all sorted. She raised her brows and her expression widened. “Ffffuck. I forgot about that.” Her hands went down to the bench to support her leaning in slightly. “You can totally hang with me for a while! And if that shop Hannah and Barbara plan to start pulls through, you could even have a place to stay for awhile if you didn’t wanna tag with me on any more wild trips.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze couldn’t help but smile briefly at the offer, but ultimately found her expression flattening once again as her eyes turned toward her lap. “I don’t want to impose. I want something concrete to look forward to. I’m not like you, Amanda. Things have to be… predictable. Mostly. I don’t do well with unexpected things.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like hell you don’t: You’ve dealt with all the shit that’s come our way like a champ! And this is probably the least predictable thing we’ve ever experienced!” Amanda’s tone was hopeful as she tried to cheer Constanze on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze shook her head again and closed her eyes. “It’s different.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm….” Words began to fail her, and so it was back to the pen and paper. “I like not knowing what challenges I’ll have to deal with in the short term, it's the fun of engineering, but that doesn’t mean I feel safe when something as simple as knowing where I’ll sleep is up in the air. Like I said: I’m not like you. I can’t just rough it out.” A sad sigh marked the modest regret Constanze had in penning those words. She wanted to spend more time with Amanda; they were family now, it was natural to want to be closer, but they were still individuals with their own paths in life. For fear of coming across as distant, she added on to her initial writing. “I definitely want to stay close to you, and everyone else, but I need to have a safe and predictable space to return to. You understand, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda took her time to read through the few sentences Constanze had written up and hummed a nod. “Hmm. Yeah, no, that makes sense. I ain’t here to argue you there, but, I guess, just make sure that this whole Balefire thing </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> that safe space you can come back to, you feel?” She began to reach out with her right hand to gently grip Constanze’s shoulder, pausing only so her sister could approve or deny the approach. When it was approved with a grunt, she followed through with her words and movement. “The worst thing you could do right now is commit to something you don’t know enough about.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look who’s talking.” Constanze taunted flatly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“L-Look, I didn’t have any other options. You know that.” Amanda’s face lit back up again, glad they could be light hearted about heavier topics like this. “And now that I do, you don’t see me turnin’ ‘round. Besides, you say you’re not like me, but then what the hell is Hannah and Barbara and Luna Nova? They’re a </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>predictable</span>
  </em>
  <span> space to come back to when I’ve had my fill of the world.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze shifted in her seat, crossing her legs together as she pivoted a full ninety degrees to look Amanda straight on. “Never thought of it that way.” She wrote out. Her mind wandered for a few minutes while Amanda retracted her arm and shifted to mirror Constanze’s sitting position. The German witch’s mind focused inwardly. She wasn’t sure what she should even be dealing with first, outside of the obvious problems surrounding their material circumstances, and she sure as hell didn’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> to approach those inward problems, let alone the outside ones. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Find some powerful artifacts. Link up with helpful witches. Hope for the best.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> That was basically the plan they had so far, but it was hardly conclusive or all encompassing. So much could go wrong, so much </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> gone wrong, and so much was left up in the air. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Is anything going to be different? Even if we win, where the hell do I go from here?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She had voiced her interest in the Balefire, it felt like it was calling to her as it called to Amanda in a more literal sense, but she wasn’t about to dismiss Amandas’ very valid concerns.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda decided to speak up, not looking to interrupt Constanze’s clearly deep thinking, but hoping to aid it instead with what she hoped was a helpful sentiment. “If it means anything, whatever you decide to do, I support it. When we agreed we’d be sisters, I meant it, and I know you did too. Wouldn’t be right for me to get worked up in your business when it ain’t my choice to make.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze snapped back to attention. “No, no. It’s appreciated. Keeps me honest. Keeps me… normal.” Just what was she going to do when she saw Nikolai again? She nearly jumped off the bike last time, and had she had seen him sooner, who knows if she would be alive right now. That wrathful instinct, that furious storm, it was a part of her; she couldn’t deny that. It wasn’t a part of her she wanted roaming free or dominating her mind though, and she would see that never happened again. “I shouldn’t be hasty. Don’t need to be. We have time. Hopefully.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is it you think you need anyhow? I mean, beyond something safe and fixed to return to. Like….” Amanda hummed a made up tune as she searched for the words. “Like, what do you want to do with life? Or what do you want out of it?” She then realized how vague and open those questions were, and she hated getting all existential; just made things more complicated than they needed to be from her perspective. “Not to put you on the spot.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine.” Constanze reassured as she considered the questions. In her case, the questions were always there in her mind, but it helped to hear them from another person when it came to actually spurring her brain to find the answers. “I want to do what I always have: Research and build things. It’s calming. It’s interesting…. But it needs to have a bigger purpose.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How so?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t do well brainstorming when I don’t have a problem to think about.” Constanze decided to draw up a doodle-diagram to help explain her point. She made two little faces representing herself, one with a frown and one with a smile above and below respectively. Beside the facesConstanze drew an “equals” sign and worked backward from her image based equation. “It’s like this—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh great, math.” Amanda sarcastically rolled her eyes, only to be shushed with a light jrab from Constanze’s pen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> this:” Constanze began to draw out, beside the happy faced equation, a broken bike, if only because her work on the Lune Rouge was on the mind. Then she drew an “addition” sign besides that and a lightning bolt. Finally, beside that, another “addition” symbol accompanied a doodle of a wrench that led toward the “equals” sign. Below that, with the sad faced equation, she copied the above images, but didn’t display the broken bike. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda blinked twice. “Shitty bike plus electricity plus wrench equals… happy?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze facepalmed. “When there’s a problem, and I have the energy and tools to tackle it, you get a happy Constanze, because that means I can invent something.” It felt weird to refer to herself in the second person, but she persisted. “And when there’s no problem, but the energy and tools to tackle one, you get a sad Constanze, because then I don’t know what to do with myself and get frustrated.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you just say that without the math?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you not pass primary school math or something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe, maybe not.” Amanda grinned cheekily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze and her shared a stare for a few quiet moments before they both chuckled. “Do you get my point?” She wrote out between giggles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I think I get it. It’s like, how’re you gonna know to make a bike-fix-inator if there’s no bike to fix.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze reeled in exaggerated disgust. She wrote: “First: You’re never allowed to name anything I make. Second: Correct.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pfff. You just don’t know how to give things simple names.” Amanda waved dismissively. “But before we get too off topic: If that’s what you wanna do, how does this Balefire shit meet those needs?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze, luckily, felt she had a pretty solid answer to that question now that they’d talked through some of the other aspects. “If Maxwell’s telling the truth, then I want to help.” She said with clear confidence. “I don’t want to solve pointless problems. I’m not trying to make money. I want to be happy; fulfilled. Helping people help themselves; helping witches build something for good…. I could do that. I’d be happy doing that. I’d have purpose.” A pause came that saw Constanze realizing some of the deeper motivations behind such desires. “They’d want me to. They’d be proud.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda’s expression began to sour as well as the subject became more serious. “Your folks?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmmm….” Constanze wasn’t sure if they deserved to be honoured by taking after something that would please them were they alive, but Constanze also didn’t feel she was going out of her way to please the dead. It felt natural and just so happened to be something she’d know they’d approve of. “They wanted me to take over the forge back home. Dad didn’t want me to become a witch at first. He came around to it later. Wanted me to… be happy… I guess.” If only he’d made that more clear with actions and words before it was too late. “Aunt and Uncle would be happy too. Really happy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re the ones who wanted you to explore the witch side of your family, so it makes sense. It’s the best of both worlds then: You get to be the smith your dad wanted, and the witch you and your other relatives wanted.” Amanda assured. “I mean, shit, it was your Grandpa who wanted your dad to pick up smithing </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> magic, right? You’d be making him happy at least.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I guess.” There was still so much to learn about all of this. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“They’re dead though. Does it even matter?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze was a witch: She knew the dead could rise and that ghosts were real, but ultimately, the cases of that happening were relatively uncommon, and as far as she knew, her family wasn’t included in that population. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Jo and Gertrand deserved better. Mom and Dad did too, but they….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She hummed aggravatedly to herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“They abused me. They didn’t show me love.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her hands, resting in her lap, gripped the edge of her navy coat tightly as they formed fists. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“So why the FUCK am I so angry about what happened?!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She wanted to be alone, away from them, safe. She wasn’t “safe” per say, but she no longer had to worry about her family harming her ever again. Still, that anger remained. “Or maybe I’m just overthinking things.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, you can start figuring that out by taking your own advice.” Amanda leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees with her hands holding up her chin. “You’re the one who told me I gotta do more things for myself, so why don’t you just do what’s best for you here and not worry so much about your family?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know.” Constanze shook her head. “I really don’t know.” Her eyes fell to the paper; the logic around working with the Balefire seemed sound, but it always came back to motive, just as it did with her vengeance. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“He has to die.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She thought of Nikolai. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“He’s killing my friends. My family. Everyone. We have to kill him…. But why does it feel like it has to be me who does it?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Simply claiming that it was for some righteous or moral justice seemed like a lie. Constanze knew what she was feeling and it was hate. Nothing about her intent felt like retribution, and while she wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger either way, she couldn’t help but go back to the equations; their logic could be stretched to explain her whole being: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Without a problem, the motive, and the right tools, I’ll never feel satisfied doing anything.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She had a problem, and she had the tools, but with how conflicted she felt over her experiences with her parents and the knowledge of their certainly violent and painful deaths, she wasn’t sure a proper motive could be applied. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanzes’ eyes drifted up from the pen and paper and met Amandas’ own. “I feel like I don’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do it for myself…. Every way I could… or… no, every reason I have that’s meant to be for me….” Words were failing her, but she had to speak her mind or risk losing the thread of thoughts. “They’re dead, Amanda. Nothing’s going to change that in any good way. There’s no way I </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> do it for them or anyone else. We need to save Luna Nova, but this wasn’t about that until they showed up on our doorstep. This started with Ludinghal, and it’s going to be finished because of Ludinghal. I can only do it for me, but I’m torn on whether revenge is even right for me anymore.” Amanda dropped her arms and felt the sadness in Constanze’s voice sympathetically. She had nothing to immediately say, and Constanze was at her wits end for now. She sighed before lazily writing out with finality: “I just need more time to work through it. Thanks for listening and talking about it, but this is my battle.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda reached over slowly to grip Constanze’s free hand tightly as a comrade, no, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>sister</span>
  </em>
  <span> would. “And I’ll be there to help you fight it every step of the way. Don’t you forget that.” She gave a thumbs up with the other hand and forced a smile to see if Constanze might smile by osmosis. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sadly, the osmosis plan didn’t work, but Constanze’s expression certainly softened. “And I’ll be there for your battles. Don’t forget that either.” Her breathing, which had felt heavy and laboured during her time spent thinking on family and revenge, had begun to come more naturally now, and she was eager to try and change the subject. “You said you had stuff on your mind, and it seems we’re both thinking about the Balefire.” Their discussion may have focused heavily on Constanze and her future, but it was the conundrum around the causality of their time in the sanctum and their encounters with Maxwell that brought it to the forefront. “You weren’t happy about being chosen…. If that fire chose you at all.” She didn’t want to imply anything was actually being thrust onto Amanda, even if it was, knowing how much Amanda resented such forced change. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Honestly, I shouldn’t be as mad as I am about it.” Amanda said nonchalantly while switching back to her kicked out legs and arms behind her head position. “Like, you look at Akko and the stuff she went through with the Shiny Rod and you’d think we’d all be like ‘wow, oh my god, I wanna be chosen by some spooky ass shrub that’s weirdly just kinda beneath the school for reasons,’ but then you get chosen by some spooky as fire that’s weirdly beneath the school for reasons, and you find out it kinda sucks!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze blinked. “You… have a way with words.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda ignored the ultimately harmless jab at her messy way of speaking. “I mean, it’s not like I’m being </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally</span>
  </em>
  <span> forced to do anything, not yet at least.” She spat to the side before fetching her water-filled-flask from her jacket and swallowing back a swig. “Also it’s… different from what Akko went through. Sure she found the Shiny Rod by chance, but she </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> that. She didn’t ask to get the Shiny Rod, but she’s always wanted to be what Chariot was. And for you, with Vaal and all of that, I guess you’re figuring it out, but it seems like it’s giving you the direction you needed right now, yeah?” Constanze thought on it and nodded; given all she said, that seemed like an accurate enough estimate. “So then you have me and the fire: To be honest, I don’t know what the fuck it wants!” Her flask wielding hand was waved up flippantly before she stowed it back in her jacket. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Burn brightly…. Seek valor….” Constanze mumbled the words with a few fingers resting against her chin, her eyes downcast in thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, very informative.” Amanda laughed frustratedly. “What kind of valor? What </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> valor anyway? Like, throw me a bone here and maybe we’ll talk!” She gave out a long and heavy sigh. “But no, instead some dude old enough to be my dad comes along and tells me I’m chosen for something involving his weirdo cult….” Then she remembered that Constanze might work with that “weirdo cult.” “No offense.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mm, mhmm.” Constanze grunted in understanding, which Amanda knew to mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>“None taken.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She lifted her head back up and spoke then. “What do you think about what he said? Don’t trust him?” Constanze couldn’t blame her if she didn’t, and Constanze herself didn’t exactly trust Maxwell as much as she lacked any reason to believe he was lying. He seemed genuine enough, his mannerisms were consistent, and if he betrayed them somehow, it would serve no goal that either her, Amanda, or Lotte could have reasonably extrapolated. If it came down to it, Constanze wouldn’t hesitate to kill him if he was in fact some cannibal creep living out in the Scottish highlands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> trust him.” Amanda stopped suddenly, making sure she said that right. “Yeah, I don’t not trust him, but he also really hasn’t done anything to make me trust him either. He talks a big game, but so did my folks at every stupid meeting they dragged me to so I could see ‘how the world really worked,’ or ‘how the game was played.’” She threw up air quotes around the words she mockingly intoned in the loosely mimicked voice of her father and mother respectively. “Fucking scumbags. It was all lip service, and for how much Maxwell liked to go on about how his order saved people and did great things, I think it’s pretty weird that we haven’t heard anything about it until now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t know about Vaal or Jehanne until recently.” Constanze shrugged. “The Nine Olde Witches were weird.” Apparently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda scoffed. “Christ, it’s like a fucking conspiracy to keep all of their shit secret. Like, why? Are they worried people might actually bring back all of the good shit they supposedly made and did?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze bit her  chapped lip before she took to the pen and paper. “They’re old. Knowledge that old gets lost all of the time.” Though, she couldn’t deny that the shadows which obscured nearly everything about the Nine Olde Witches seemed to serve duplicitous ends. “But there’s too much still standing that they made for that to be possible. They’re too important. Witches are good about preserving this kind of information.” Or at least they claimed to be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So what’s your bet on then?” Amanda raised up a balled fist and began counting off three reasons, raising one finger for each explanation she posited. “The Nine Olde Witches made things that were too powerful to ever be used, weren’t as great as everyone likes to say they were, or they said and did a bunch’a shit that just wouldn’t fly today.” Constanze quirked her head at the last one, prompting Amanda to explain. “You know, maybe they were mean old hags who are just kinda awful by modern standards. Or maybe they advocated for stuff that we just wouldn’t agree with anymore, but witches some time ago decided they should just hide the parts they didn’t like and keep the rest. I mean, shit, have you ever taken a history class?” Constanze nodded, understanding more what Amanda was trying to say. “Exactly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s Possible…. Mmmm. Not a gambling girl.” Constanze could imagine any of the three ideas to work as an explanation, or perhaps it was more complex than that, or simply something they hadn’t initially considered. It wasn’t like they knew the full two thousand years or more or context that influenced how witches organized and learned themselves and their history to this day. “What if you were chosen though? What if this order is everything Maxwell said it was?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda puffed air from her cheek and ran through her thoughts. It wasn’t exactly an easy question to answer. “I guess… I’d… give them a try? I kinda already do a bit of what he was talking about with my normal work anyway. As long as I get to travel, help folks out, and catch some thrills all the while, I’m happy. Doubly so if they turn out to not be some creepy cult; good or bad, that’d be a dealbreaker.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm. Heh.” Constanze fixed her own sitting position to face forward, though she looked much more proper with her hands kept neatly in her lap and back upright. “Realized something.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re the least witchy witches I know.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda pondered the thought for a moment before smiling. “Can’t argue with that…. Though… maybe we just think about what a witch is too strictly, you feel?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm. Narrow experience. Narrow definition.” Constanze twiddled her thumbs, biding the time, hoping Maxwell would be able to see them to his cabin and order hall before it was past midnight. “You’ve asked me a lot how I’m doing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Amanda’s eyes looked to her left toward Constanze, but she kept her posture facing upward and outward.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze looked back up to meet Amanda’s sideways gaze. “I appreciate it. Hard to feel comfortable talking to people. In general. Worse when it’s about personal stuff.” She paused to scoot a little close. “Haven’t asked how you’ve been. I feel kinda bad. We talked a lot about what I went through, and I know you said you were done thinking about them, but….” Constanze wasn’t sure that words would be able to carefully put what she was saying out into the air, and so she grunted and gestured instead, putting a hand by her heart and squeezing once, knowing Amanda would understand. “Mmmm. Mhmm?” Her expression became slightly uneasy as she questioned Amanda’s true feelings and concerns, knowing she may not want to think on that subject at all. Constanze knew though that to be a good friend, and a good sister, you had to make your loved ones uncomfortable sometimes so they could face what they needed to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda indeed knew what was being asked. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What am I really feeling?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She turned herself to face Constanze and brought one leg, bent at the knee, onto the bench and wrapped her arms around it to keep herself upright. “I wasn’t lying when I told you about what my family was like, or how they made me feel.” She minded the defensiveness in her tone, assuming Constanze had a more specific question that would ease Amanda’s immediate inclination to shut down the conversation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“N-No. Not saying that. Sorry.” Constanze clutched the hand by her heart and shook her head vigorously. Even when they understood each other just from a glance, miscommunication was always possible. “Trying to ask if there was… anything you didn’t talk about. Seemed like you had more on your mind than what was said. You don’t have to. No guilt or shame.” Maybe Constanze was just jumping at shadows; it’s not like she’d seen Amanda in doire straights very often until recently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda hummed lowly, rolling her head from left to right as she considered the truth in Constanze’s presumptions. She hadn’t been dishonest with Constanze, but she hadn’t said much about the specifics of the abuse she went through. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Do I really need to?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She knew Constanze wasn’t forcing her to, but she also wasn’t sure if discussing it would actually make things better. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“All I need is to get pissed off for no reason.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She readjusted the arms about her knee and grunted idly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Can’t say nothing’s been bothering me though. Stupid fuckin’ memories.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Those damnable voices sure had a way of following her. No matter how old those auditory and mental wounds were, they stuck with her. “I already told you I ain’t exactly the most confident of people…. Despite how much of an ass I make of myself to try and prove otherwise.” She had to make light of it so as to not lose her temper. “I don’t really </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to say why, but maybe finally getting it off of my chest will do some good.” She had told Hannah and Barbara </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> of what her parents and siblings had said to her; the abuse surrounding her suppressed lesbian identity and defiance of gender norms, to say nothing of their loathing for her defiant tendencies and “deviant” interests. They really couldn’t have asked for a “worse” child. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If talking about it makes it worse, we can stop. Wanted to ask regardless.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda nodded as her eyes drifted to the distant sight of approaching headlights. Sure enough, a rickety grene truck was coming up over the distant hill. “All in good time, sis. If I need to step away, I’ll let you know. For now, we got a bit more driving to do…. You wanna learn?” She asked while dangling the keys in front of Constanze, thinking: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Eh, why not ask?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze gave a glance back toward the approaching truck before her attention was brought back to Amanda at the sound of the jingling keys. She waved her hands out in rejection of the idea. “Nope. No way. No.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda grinned. “Aww, come on, seriously? I don’t just let </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> drive her you know.” Constanze would, in fact, be the first. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I only drive things with four wheels, treads, legs…. And brooms.” Constanze said while standing up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda followed suit and so they started walking toward the Lune Rouge. “It has three wheels now. That’s close enough to four.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hell no.” Constanze never learned how to ride a bike with training wheels, let alone a motorcycle; something about them just screamed “no-structural-integrity,” even as her engineering and physics oriented mind knew that they were perfectly safe if you knew what you were doing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hah! Suit yourself!” Amanda tossed the keys into the air in front of her only to catch them with the other hand. They had about an hour of riding ahead of them, and sadly, they knew they wouldn’t exactly be left with the most comfortable of lodgings. Amanda didn’t mind sleeping rough anymore; she’d gotten used to it, learned the tricks and magical spells to help make it bearable, but Constanze was far more sheltered and used to her structured spaces. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Balefire, here we come.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>For better or worse. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Night had fallen by the time Will and Chaos had come to the tail end of their survey. They were finally well rested enough to no longer be feeling the fatigues from having called a piece of The Pursuer to Earth. If only they could say the same for Cause and Effect who had been so viciously reprimanded. Will may have defended them, but she was ultimately just as critical of their behavior. Clearly she had done poorly as a leader; she bore the mantled and planned well, but her sisters’ failings had been ignored for too long. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“A reminder long overdue….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The air from her exhaling nostrils were as steam; the fact that they had not found any signs of their prey by now had her on the brink of an outburst.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two Fates were floating just above the water and rocks, where the two escapee witches and their bike had fallen. The ruined cliff above remained as the only sign that something of significance once stood there. But then again, there never was a tower there, or anything of significance for that matter, so it was just a jagged and disrupted looking precipice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Only… one place left to look.” Chaos remarked hesitantly as she stared down into the dark waters below. Had the child’s fear of the waves rubbed off on her? Or was she merely dreading the inevitable revelation that there were no bodies to be found, not here at least. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“The Child has power, but she was no witch! She couldn’t have ferried them far! Doomed! Doomed they were!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>All reasoning gave way to paranoia though as her future-sighted-self trembled with knowledge unbidden. In this moment, it felt as though she could predict and hear the words that were about to be loosed from Will’s lips. She would be punished in the worst way imaginable: She would be made to remember it; that dark day of betrayal, who’s events now only sparsely populated her mind with flashes of harrowing imagery. The exact details and the meaning had been lost some time ago. All that remained was the knowledge that a treachery had occurred, and Chaos had been slighted, alongside her sisters, and that they perished because of it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will joined Chaos in staring down into the waters. Her baleful reflection came back to her, shifting with the waves between the body she inhabited and the body she once knew as her own. With a shake of the head, she dashed aside the delusion and spoke coldly. “And you would do well to pray to your gods that this final location is indeed </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> final location.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We forsook those gods long ago… after We learned of true gods.” Chaos couldn’t even remember most of her old pantheons inhabitants. Maybe they were meant to resemble great and powerful humans from times primordial, or perhaps they were eld things given human shape that came to Earth and influenced events there. It didn’t matter now; they weren’t real to her, not like The Pursuer was, and all the only strange and near unexplainable things that slithered in the darkness, writhed behind the eye’s reflections, and dwelled in the ill-begotten corners of sentient consciousness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will wrinkled her nose. “For someone so knowledgeable on the eld, We never expected you to be someone to mistakenly call those things gods.” She coldly intoned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos shot a glancing leer Will’s way. “Tch. Do you have a better word? Some of them control aspects of reality that even the most powerful of witches could not hope to manipulate. Surely, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> constitutes a god.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For all you’ve seen, Chaos, your imagination is… limited.” Will sighed and shook her head. She had no time to debate the boundless potential of all things that could think and feel; the eld was merely that, a way to describe things which felt and feel that were </span>
  <em>
    <span>too different</span>
  </em>
  <span> from humanity’s own way to be considered normal. Will had no interest in them, distrusted them even, all while knowing that much of the distrust surrounding them was steeped in illogical fear. No, it was their detached nature that had Will despising the eld. She would not forget how The Pursuer regarded the likely deaths of millions, if not billions, nor would Will ever forget how The Deceiver betrayed her and the other Fates </span>
  <em>
    <span>so easily</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Is such force truly warranted?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Its machinations, The Deceivers’ and Pursuers’, were collectively unknown. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“No matter.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>All that separated the two forces was the context; context that Chaos would soon be reminded of. “It was you who failed The Pact in allowing those witches to escape. Thus, it is you who shall dredge up their corpses. If they’re even there.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos turned away from Will with a dismissive wave and black-bile filled spit-take to the side. She had to hide the fear building on her face or she’d be found out as knowing far more than she should. With one final look toward the water, Chaos took a deep breath before she plunged down beneath the waves. The water was freezing, piercingly so. Every particle of cold against her billowing form stung, and she was forced to suppress the illogical fear of water that had indeed been inherited from The Child in order to reach the bottom. Once down there, she used a simple spell to bring gills to her neck, gasping as her body adjusted to the mutations to her lungs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her immediate surroundings were desolate, drab, and uninteresting. Barely any marine life swam about, having been frightened by her sudden plunge, or having fled long ago once they sensed the dreadful aura The Fates all carried about them. Her eyes scanned every crevice, cranny, and nook that possible in search of the bodies. The rocky floor, around forty feet deep, produced nothing save two small electronic devices. They were ruined now, and one was already looking pretty damaged from some other incident. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“They were here.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She saw them carried away by a magical bubble; it could have popped anywhere. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Deeper.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos tensed her fists and felt a trembling breath escape her mouth as she forced herself to press forward. Her speed was blinding, and Will matched it above the water, following where Chaos went with a critically curious eye. Chaos dashed between reef and rock until she reached the drop off. It was a straight shot down from there on out, and every league traversed forced her to summon up more magic to protect her from the crushing pressure of the deeps. Shapes jumped out at her from the blackness where light could not reach. The cacophony of voices that vied for control of the body sprang into action in a dizzying psychosis. Her lips mouthed words of their own accord as the ideas were forced into her mind. She could make no sense of them, what with all of the voices talking over one another. Their demands and cries ranged from the delusional to the desperate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sights only grew stranger with each fathom: Chaos’ vision blurred, no, it became bifurcated. She could see multiple places at once by means unknown. On the top half of her left eyed vision, she saw the blackness of the water; below, the ruined and ancient stones of a familiar place. The downward declines of great green mountains, dotted with grey, rocky outcroppings, and the distant clear skies, warmed some part of her heart. In her right eye, the top portion of her vision saw another portion of the scene, but the sky was storm-ridden, crashing with lightning and thunder, and she could swear she saw some sort of tendril from on high wriggle idly in the air. Below that, the blackness remained. Chaos blinked erratically as she plummeted toward the floor of the Channel, and only knew peace once she felt her body collide with the ground. The voices immediately ceased, the visions were gone, and her eyesight was corrected. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos wasn’t sure what was better: The onset of stimuli unending, or the silent sound and sight scape that now surrounded her. She picked herself up from the disturbed cloud of sand that she kicked up upon impact and looked around frantically. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“No bodies! No bike! Nothing!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> With another cloud of sediment being scattered, Chaos darted off in every which direction she could. Time was lost on her; she could have been down there for hours or minutes, but the result was the same. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“SCRREEEEAAAAAGH! DAMN YOU CHILD! DOOM! DOOMED US BOTH! DOOMED US ALL! LISTENED! SHOULD HAVE LISTENED!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She thrashed and clawed at herself violently, disturbing the silence of the underwater void with her chittering and unnatural gurgles. In time, she got a hold of herself and bit down hard on her lips, bleeding them. She would need to surface eventually. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will drummed her right handed fingers across her left forearm as she floated, arms about her chest, and eyes downcast at the stop where Chaos currently she; she had tracked her position the whole time to ensure there were no attempts at deception. Finally, the sign of bubbles reaching the surface signaled the awaited arrival. Will floated back about two feet without much effort as the bubbling grew more sporadic and violent, climaxing in the black-cloaked form of Chaos surfacing like a missile. Chaos’ cloak was blown high in the wind as her form slowed to a sudden halt, sending flecks and droplets of seawater everywhere. Will remained dry with a singular palm that emitted a blinding heat, raised lazily to instantly evaporate any droplets that came too close to her. A delayed reaction from the sea below followed with a small pillar of water mimicking Chaos’ trajectory before dispersing into large waves bound for the shores. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We see a distinct lack of any evidence.” Will pointed out with a huff. Chaos was blank faced, beyond reproach, and somewhat bloodied. Her self harm had done her no favors, and only served to reveal more and more of her “true” self. She trembled in the air as the cold bit into her chitinous body. It would not kill her, but that chill reminded her of death; something she expected to experience very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> soon. Will could only close her eyes and shake her head in response to the silence. “And so you have failed Us, The Pact, Cause, and Effect…. Shall mankind now suffer for your negligence as we have?” Still, there was no reply. “Have you nothing to say for yourself? We warned you time and time again about the seriousness of our mission. We knew The Pursuer would not rely on us forever, and yet you denied it.” Will felt a surprising deal of numbness. She expected to know the blindingly hot rage that had consumed her ever since that dark day of betrayal, but knew only hollow, empty emotions; a taste of despair to come.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We have no excuse.” Chaos did not lift her head. She would not kill The Child, not after everything that has happened. To kill her now would invalidate the very actions that may now doom them, per The Pursuer's warning. A wicked and depraved side of her thought that, if share had another shot at doing things, she would have seen The Child expunged from her collective consciousness long ago, but the side of her that yet remained humane still ruled; she couldn’t do that, not now, not ever. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Listened…. Should have listened.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Will’s words on the weakness of sympathy, love, and compassion rang true that night; accursed beings such as The Fates, tasked with objectives such as theirs, had no place for those emotions. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Can’t listen. Impossible…!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> If only removing the human element from oneself was such an easy task, were it possible at all. “Do what you will, but let us live, just a little longer.” It’s all The Child would need, hopefully; </span>
  <em>
    <span>just a little longer. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We will not be killing you, Chaos. We will be—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Reminding you.” Chaos completed the sentence that Will began in unison with her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will raised a brow suspiciously and opened her eyes in slight surprise. “You foresaw this, didn’t you?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Original of Chaos came to the forefront, having been beckoned by the question. “I saw many things, Will. I simply wish I hadn’t.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will floated upward and toward Chaos while speaking plainly. “Do you remember what you saw? The knowledge that spurred us to act as we did?” Chaos sobbed once and shook her head in the negative. Will sighed pitiably, caring not for the commitment to the usage of plural pronouns for now; this matter was, after all, wholly rooted in The Original Chaos’ actions. “Then this punishment will serve you well. Hold still, and prepare yourself.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I could warn you all the same.” Chaos threw back her cowl, revealing her antennaed and mostly insectoid head. Only the chin and left eye remained human looking. “My mind is not a safe place for us to travel, old friend.” The final two words were chittered regrettably. There was a time of laughter, singing, dancing, harmony; the world was bright. The only good that could be brought from these memories would be that Chaos might see that brightness one final time, if only to know that she would see how all of it came crashing down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have I ever been anything besides careful, Chaos?” The Original Will spoke now and continued after Chaos shook her head in the negative again, confirming Will’s rhetorical query. “Then take my hands.” She offered them out slowly, finding Chaos’ claws to be strange to the touch, but tenderly wielded. “I do not punish you with this flippantly. I would not wish this experience on any, save one. Learn from this, that you might never force my hand again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos’ mandibles clacked sorrowfully. “There won’t be another chance for you to remind me. It matters not.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then you must pay close attention….” Will began to breathe audibly, deliberately. Every rise and fall of her chest was a motion fully controlled and ordained by her body, mind, and spirit. Where heat was usually the temperament that accompanied her radiance, a calm, soothing cold found its way from Will’s humming form into Chaos’ claws. The witch in black shuddered; her spare mandibles twitched sporadically. She did her best to mimic Will’s calm and collected demeanor as to facilitate an easy melding of minds, but found herself struggling expectantly. The winds from the channel, those that crested off of Luna Isle and in from the mainland of England, swirled into a steady cyclone. The force of the gales was gentle, but the magic in the air was palpable even to the most ignorant of mundane beings. The vortex formed an orb-like case around the two Fate witches, becoming semi-visible, like a layer of fog. Its smooth and perfectly round surface was quickly marked by dashes in the air, as if a blindingly fast and perfectly careful force was writing out symbols. The languages etched into the misty sphere switched between Lunar Runes and shapes used by witches and sorcerers of olde, specifically those that hailed from what is now Korea and the surrounding lands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At first, the art being drawn on the air-orb was done with a singular, invisible force. Then came another, and another, until thousands of different gentle nudges and sharp, specifically directed wind-blasts flurried every centimeter of the sphere’s surface. Will and Chaos were surrounded by the symbols which began to light up, one by one, with a bright, pure, white light. The sphere expanded all the while, ballooning to be thrice the size it had initially been until it instantly collapsed into an imploding vacuum once every symbol had become lit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos found her vision to be starry, her eyes blinded, and her mind foggy. She tried to raise her many mandibles and claws to shield her sensitive, insectoid eyes, but found she only possessed two arms, unmarred, and all her own. When her senses fully returned, she clearly saw her skin was lightly tanned and healthy; no scars, scratches, or chitin marred her form. She was still robed in black, a sign that this was but an illusion of sorts, for she had only dawned the sable robes upon leaving Pythia for the final time. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Pythia? PYTHIA! I REMEMBER! PYTHIA!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She could utter no words; not yet. The realization that such names and memories were returning to her had left her stunned, shocked, and tearful. Her crying eyes focused on her palms and arms as she examined her human form with disbelief. Illusion or not, it was enough to pierce through the heavy layers of despair and madness that had encased her mind over the millenia dedicated to vengeance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you well?” Will asked flatly somewhere off in the distance. Chaos looked up. Only then did she realize that they were no longer near Luna Isle. This wasn’t an illusion, it was a memory made manifest; it wasn’t real now, but it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> real back then. They were in Greece; somewhere in Greece at least. Even Chaos’ olde self didn’t put a name to this place. It was just— </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Home…. My old home.” Chaos’ lips trembled. She stumbled forth through the grassy brush over toward Will, who had chosen to keep her present form; she may have allowed some embrace of the self and individual in this punishment, but only because Chaos needed to in order for it to work. Will herself was here as nothing but a facilitator of that punishment, and an enforcer of The Pact. “Why are we here? Of all places!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As a gentle, seaside breeze shifted Will’s cloak, she used magic to hide her face beneath an unnatural shadow, keeping the cowl firmly over her head. She was a cruel and hateful woman now, but she was not fully heartless; she couldn’t look Chaos in the eye during this. “The full context, in all things, is a necessity. There can be no understanding, no regret, without context…. Do not thank me. Were I kind, I would have merely shown you how this ends. Then you would not have to remember what we left behind.” She turned on her heels very slowly and gestured toward the valley below; they were on a cliff of some sort,m and a small village lay down by the beach in the valley between the peak they stood on and another small incline. “Come.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos barely had time to think of a response, let alone conjure the thought in her brain that would tell the rest of her body to obey Will’s command, before reality itself was stretched inward. Everything looked like it had been focused in a distorting kaleidoscope for a brief moment before Chaos found herself and Will stood somewhere in the town; they did not walk or float to it as much as they jumped around in the memory. Ultimately, they were anomalies, outsides, invisible and intangible. What was done is done, and could never be undone. Even the things that dwelled beyond glass knew that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their scenery had changed from a vista on a hill to being in the middle of the generally lively streets of the small village. It was the middle of the day, and so people were going about various tasks: Tending to the day’s labor, gutting the ocean’s bounty for dinner that night, socializing and relaxing. What separated this from what most would expect were the Fae beings that lived among the humans. Some were clearly ingratiated in the community, while others appeared to be wanderers or perhaps merchants who called nothing but the Earth itself home. “Devils,” humanoid Fae of brass construction and changing shape, dealt in trinkets by the quayside pier while a school of red and brown capped mushrooms with stubby arms and legs shuffled along at about knee height, ferrying various goods across the town.  Birds, mundane and magical, shared the skies with the occasional Pixie or Faerie bearing missives from distant lands. Even the fishermen bore magical catches: The fishy-smelling nets they wheeled along in simple carts were by no means “normal” by modern standards; they were tasty though!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The memories of this place, good, bad, and nebulously toned all flooded back; everything but her name was returned to her for a time, for Will could not allow that memory to come back. “But why? Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span> specifically?” Chaos uttered in shock as she took in all the sights, sounds, and knowledge that confused her emotionally distraught mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Here and now is the day She came to you: The Fifth of Nine.” Will, having pierced the morass of Chaos’ muddled mind, knew the memories, for the moment, as her own, but where Chaos was only beginning to feel some sense of clarity, Will saw everything as crystal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fifth of Nine… fifth….” Chaos held her head, surprised to feel the smoothness of her shaven scalp rather than the thorny carapace she had come to know in the waking world. Her eyes became clenched shut in thought, and when she opened them, she found herself in a simple abode made of clay and stone; the familiar scents of stews she had enjoyed cooking and eating wafted to her nose. Will stood in the corner, allowing the scene to play out without further comment. Chaos looked to opposite corner and saw herself, when she had hair, when she called herself </span>
  <span>Dēmḗtrios, but that was not her true name. She could not conjure that name to her mind due to Will’s withholding of the memory. Her young form, roughly in her mid twenties, was cooking up that aforementioned stew, having become weary from another day stolen from her by the visions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was always like this.” The words escaped Chaos’ mouth against her will as she thought of them. “The visions, the foresight….” She glanced at Will. “I was a precognitive?” Will deigned only to nod; this was Chaos’ realization to come to, she would offer no further insight. “And… and those visions…. They were random, but useful…. Knowing the upcoming weather, knowing how to stop an accident before it could occur.” She shuddered. “Times were simpler…. They scared me, but they were… a gift?” She wasn’t sure of that anymore, not in the context of the here and now where her visions brought her only woe. “Fifth of Nine; why?” The original thought back to what she said to The Child down in the depths of the psychological oceans. “Feared… death? Yes, alone, isolated.” As Chaos spoke, she stumbled to a carved out hole in the clay home; her abode was separated from the rest of the village. She was tolerated, but only that. Her usefulness allowed her to stay, but while magic was common, and the Fae lived among them, even those magically borne beings were distrusting of those who could foresee the future at almost all times. Whether it was because they believed the claims or capabilities of precognitives to be duplicitous was beyond Chaos to this day, but she knew that in the lands of the Greeks especially, to foresee future events was to be especially blessed; assuming you were scrying fate under the trappings of the pantheons and established covens. Wayward seers and fortune tellers like her were on the fringe; outcasts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In awe, Chaos stared from the window. The sight of the town was enrapturing, and her focus was only able to be torn from it with the sight of five figures walking toward her old home. Four crimson and white robed women, all adorned in trinkets of gold, silver, and copper, and each marked by shortly cut or completely shaven heads, accompanied a witch in black and yellow; yellow like the stars. Her hat was as witchy as could be, pointy, cone shaped, with a slightly tilted brim, featuring a circle surrounding a five-pronged star emerging from a rhombus shape just below the circle. Stars and celestial imagery dotted her billowing robes; they shifted and changed as though her very clothes were a gateway to the infinitely beautiful and mesmerizing void. She was the only one among them to have hair. She was a dirty blonde whose locks reached down past her shoulders, with pale skin and a soft but knowing visage. Where the crimson and white robed women who followed her in a box formation were generally young, the starlight-robed witch leading them was aged, but not anciently so. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ionna!” Chaos blurted out as the name reached the forefront of her consciousness. “Fifth of Nine! Fifth of Nine! Ionna! She’s come!” Chaos went to open the door to meet the witch as a daughter might to a long lost mother, but found herself phasing through it instead. A moment’s stumble made her give pause. “Yes…. But a memory…. A dream, painful... damnable!” She smacked her fists on either side of her hips and shook her head in a fit as Ionna and the oracles passed through her. A knock came at the simple wooden entrance, but just as Ionna was about to speak, the scene slowed, and Will walked through the wall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you now remember what she did for you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sadly.” Chaos turned about face and examined the women accompanying Ionna. “They would take me in as an oracle. Show me the ways of controlling my ‘gift.’ I would go to Pythos…. I would become one of the Pythia. I would be safe… loved….” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For a time.” Will remarked remorsefully. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye… for a time.” Chaos’ eyes lingered on Ionna. “She helped me overcome my fear of the future; of the visions.” Then they slowly closed. “She accepted me, allowed me the time and space to change….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And yet she is no different than any of them: Traitors all.” Wills’ words bade the scene change, and so it did. The world spun and became a flurry of colours before slowing to something resembling a Grecian temple in the mountains. “Behold: The beginning of the end.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos clenched her teeth tightly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“If only she knew how deep those words run! The beginning of the end! The end! THE END! I… saw….” She shook her head and breathed heavily. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“No, no. Remain sane…. Breath. Be at ease….” She commanded her body, and for mercy, found it obeying. Her erratic heart rate slowed to a normal pace as she wiped the nervous sweat from her brow. “Pythos then? That is where you’ve brought me now?” Will nodded in response, having consigned herself to stand at the foot of a small, platformed altar, raised up by five steps within the center of the pillared temple, white as ivory, and adorned in the iconography of the gods; murals divine and arcane. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just a few steps up from where Will. stood, more of the oracles, those women in red and crimson, had gathered around one shaven women in black and red. Chaos knew it to be herself instantly; her smally framed, round face, her tiny nose, accentuated by her bright, hungry red eyes. About the altar they stood, with The Olde Chaos having prepared some profane ritual involving the burning of certain metals, plants, and the ritual gutting of a lamb; her athame was drenched in the near-dead animal’s blood. The ritual had been interrupted by some of the more conservative and fearful oracles:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first of three oracles in opposition spoke, but whenever they mentioned Chaos’ true name, only white noise took hold. “</span>
  <span>——, please! Ionna had warned us of reaching beyond Pluton’s realm!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Olde Chaos retorted dismissively. “She warned us of reaching beyond </span>
  <em>
    <span>without</span>
  </em>
  <span> precaution. I’ve taken very good care to learn well what I beseech!” A lie? A half truth? Chaos couldn’t remember.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A more elder, but not necessarily senior oracle, objected “You know how they mettle, ——. Ionna taught us well: Where one starlings’ eyes are drawn, more are sure to look!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And how did she come to know this? Wise and great she may be, but none are all knowing.” The Olde Chaos turned back to her ritualistic dismemberment of the lamb, ending its suffering with a clean stroke of the athame. “Willful ignorance is the antithesis of our very coven! We, by nature of our powers, </span>
  <em>
    <span>cannot</span>
  </em>
  <span> remain ignorant of what is to come, so as to force us to do as such with things beyond our immediate sight…. It is folly! Ridiculousness!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And what will you do if this fails spectacularly, ——? Will you bury us yourself? What of the threat that this poses to the temple!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jumping at shadows on the cave wall, all of you!” The Olde Chaos chided, shooing away the naysayers who were escorted off by those oracles who supported The Olde Chaos’ intrigue. “Those things beyond Pluton are as real as you and me. To ignore them is to reject reality!” With the naysayers pushed off of the altar, looking balefully in the direction of the others, The Olde Chaos shot them an annoyed look before she commenced with the ritual proper. “Watch and witness: You will see that you are childish to fear the eld.” Then she snapped her fingers, signalling the chanters to do as their designation would imply. They swayed and swirled, dancing and singing, while faerie musicians drummed and played their mystical music from the rafters. A Gloom-Borne-Bog-Thing, all the while, intoned its own incantations from behind the altar; it’s weed and moss covered throat creating a particularly strange gurgling noise that was required to utter certain words and phrases needed for the ritual. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos as she was, watched on with awe. “Now I see…. My first communion.” The scene sped up, the ritual went as a blur, until blindingly bright-black-light bled through the tiniest of tears in space and time; reality sundered. A small tendril poked through, followed by an eye and the slimy, semi amorphous body that it was attached to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Olde Chaos smiled wide in triumph, faced the tear with her back turned toward Chaos as she was, and called out: “Come! Come to me, creature from beyond! Come to learn and be learned!” She stretched her arms out wide before offering them up to catch the jellyfish and squid-like creature as it fell from the void-wound. It was furry, somewhat, appeared to be oblong in shape, and bore its tentacles on all sides, like a giant cell or bacterium with one wide eye on either side of the generally flat shape. As The Olde Chaos caught it, it grew and shifted in size, becoming very vaguely humanoid, though no bigger than infant, with its “head” retaining that oblong shape while the “body” took on four limbs with large, suckered nodules meant for clamping onto things. Its flagella ridden mouth gurgled out something, a coo and caw, while The Olde Chaos whispered sweet nothings to calm the thing. “Shhhh…. There will be much time for speaking…. Be at ease far-flung one.” It cooed again, louder in response as The Olde Chaos’ eyes grew wide; there was </span>
  <em>
    <span>much</span>
  </em>
  <span> work to be done. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And so the scene slowed again as Will approached. “You never did tell me what urged you to seek the eld as you did.” Her cold tone was hinted with genuine curiosity. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos wracked her brain as the memories flooded back. “It felt… only natural, that if we were to divine the future not just with our minds’ magics, but the stars, that we should look to what dwelt between those stars.” She held her forehead with one hand and was hunched over, sounding unsure of herself. “Even now, I do not think that rejecting those star-spawned things is… right. Alien peoples far beyond our own star’s light deserve to be recognized, known, learned from; they are but us, though distant…. As for the truly Eld… I stand by what I said. To ignore their existence is to reject reality…. Though, I was… careless. I don’t… remember exactly how, but I was careless; naive.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Believe what you will, Chaos. You know where I stand on the eld.” Will regarded the frozen scene of the communion ritual and shook her head. “Ultimately, we are here because of you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me… it was my fault we…. The Pursuer… it—” Chaos was silenced by a raised hand from Will.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was not what I meant.” The witch in white regarded the communion with a distant gaze. “We all had a part to play in the events that brought us to where we are today. We can be rightly blamed for many tragedies, but the need for such carnage arose from The Deceivers’ actions. This is all its fault.” She then turned to look at Chaos. “I have but one more thing to show you before you must relive that dark day. Have you remembered all you needed to from this particular memory?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There is much I still want to remember.” Chaos looked to her open hands, knowing that once this was all said and done, she would likely never be able to see them again; her original human form. “But there is not enough time for me to relive everything.” She clenched her open hands into fists; her nails dug into her palms as her breath became choppy. “Take us away from here. Show me what you will. Just bring me far from Pythos before I beg that we stay.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Very well.” Will raised her hands up to neck height and separated them by five feet before clapping them together. The entire scene reverbated and rippled as the soundwaves from the clap changed all in view. Everything sped up again, becoming bright and incomprehensible, until the two Fates found themselves under a hot sun in a sandstone plaza. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos was in the direct center, surrounded by persons who she recognized but who did not know she was there. Witches, understudies, apprentices, master mages, sorcerers of varying creeds and cultures had come. Even some magical representatives from the Americas were present, having gone to great lengths to travel across the ocean with powerful portal magics; the summit was of such importance that it demanded all people's attention.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Murmurs and conversations, fractured only by distance, carried out through the crowds that surrounded the square sixty foot square plaza that lay within a larger, circularly shaped building that was hollow in the center where the plaza was. The very center of the plaza itself was left open, with most of the attendees keeping to the outskirts of under the shapes of the halls and archways of the main structure. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Fae scribes and witnesses, sent on behalf of the many cultures and four kings of the Middle Kingdoms, were there to recount and record the event, with many of them waiting on nearby rooftops with easels and scrolls in hand while magically levitated ink-wells and brushes floated beside. Will stood among them, invisibly, looking down at Chaos.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Baghdad?” Chaos uttered curiously as she waltzed about in a loose circle. “This gathering; yes, I remember it well now.” Woodward, as the leading figure of the magical world, summoned The Nine Great Witches and invited all other interested parties to attend the gathering. The purpose of the meeting was simple: Chaos, and many other witches, had been called here to explain themselves in regard to their activities that involved communion with eld things or the usage of eld magic; an art and act forbidden by Woodward soon after she had assembled The Nine. Initially, Chaos and the like were to be punished, but they had come together to argue the case for eld magicks and communion as legitimate and worthwhile endeavors. For whatever reason, Woodward had been convinced to allow for this debate which was soon to begin. “The crime of </span>
  <em>
    <span>curiosity</span>
  </em>
  <span> led me here….” She spoke the titular word angrily, though she could not tell whether that anger was aimed more at the witches who forbade the practice to begin with, or at herself for having pursued it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rumbling conversations in the crowd were interrupted by broombound witches. They wielded flutes and horns and used them to signal the beginning of the meeting proper. That music also served to rouse the Nine witches to the forefront, forming a circle as they emerged from wherever it was they were waiting. The crowds parted to give them space; some bowed their heads, others kneeled, but it was neither expected or required of them to do so. Some of the more sociable of the Nine, such as Ime, Ionna, Calixtus, Marciane, and A Witch in White And Teal, who Chaos recognized, but could not name, offered greetings, waves, bows and nods in return. The more reserved of their number, Vaal, Ishtar, Jehanne, and Beatrix, kept forward faces, walked quickly, and or rigidly depending on their mannerisms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They formed a perfect circle on the edges of the crowd in the plaza while Chaos looked between each of them. Every one of them was familiar somehow. She knew each of them personally, but some more than others were mysterious still. “Vaal… old friend. Was she always so haggard looking?” Chaos chuckled weakly, losing herself in the throes of sentimental nostalgia. “Ahhh, yes… Ishtar and her masks. Always keeping people guessing what she looked like. How she used to toy with Beatrix, disguising herself as… what was her name?” She looked to the Witch in White and Teal, but shook her head clear as she felt Will impose herself from afar with a tightly knit brow and twinge of her fingers. “You’re the one who brought me here. Don’t get mad at me for taking notice of things you’d rather not!” Chaos chided, knowing Will could hear her every word.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was only one witch remaining: Woodward. The northward gates were drawn open with ceremonial thunder from drums and flutes above and below. Clapping and cheering proceeded the sight of her. Every witch knew she was here just by the way the air blew, like a spring breeze over a meadow, but to see her in person still brought many of them to celebratory uproar. She stood nearly nine feet tall, taller than any of the Nine or any non-Fae who was present. Her witching hat was tall with leaf-like shapes crowding around the base of the cone. The cone of the hat itself was extremely angular, and on the front, a four pointed star extended unevenly, mostly covering the vertical length of the hat while only sticking out half of that length in the horizontal. Beneath the hat, two sets of massive antlers jutted out through holes in the brim while her gentle green hair billowed out like a cape with two, equally long bangs reached down just past her shoulders. So great were her locks that three Pixie attendants were lifting it up like the tail on a bridal gown. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Woodward’s dress was partly floral in composition, while the rest appeared to be composed of delicately threaded fabrics of a murky teal or dark green coloring. None could see below her dress as she glided along the ground; only her face and hands were visible, showing off the pallid, faintly green skin tone that matched her emerald eyes. An aura of calm, growth, and flourishing came with her; her very presence was that of life’s heartbeat throughout every season. The only thing that ever unsettled anyone in her presence lay in her hands. Her fingers were… longer than they should be. Not terribly so, but they were thin, a bit gangly, and possessed one too many joints. Even so, most people ignored that detail, having posited that she was partly Fae, which would explain her large size, antlers, elfin ears, and generally more powerful magical presence when compared to any of the Nine. Her arrival brought absolute silence to the gathering. They had been awaiting her return, and the moment of decision was nigh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos felt an unnatural, no, it was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>purely natural</span>
  </em>
  <span> response; one of absolute aggression, hate, fear, fight or flight! The Deceiver! In the flesh! A memory, but so very real, and so very provocative of the lies! The pain! The betrayal! </span>
  <em>
    <span>“There will be time for that later!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Will’s words echoed in her mind, bringing Chaos’ frothing form to a calm by way of forceful magics meant to manipulate emotions. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I need you to see this in full, to remember who loved you in life, so you can know that hate you just felt tenfold.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Chaos panted heavily as she fixated on Will in the distance; she was turned about face, for she could not look at The Deceiver in any way shape or form. Memory or not, Will’s vengeance was the one that ran the deepest, and even just mentioning The Deceiver’s false (or perhaps true) name in her presence was enough to set off the volcanic fury within her soul. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Only then can I trust you to enact The Pact’s will with clarity of vision. Focused hate demystifies all things. Let it clear your maddened mind.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gaah! A gift in disguise this is!” Chaos yelled above the crowd, knowing none could hear her but Will.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It was never a gift. I simply know how to punish you in such a way that benefits our cause. There is no point to arbitrary torture…. Now, focus! I will not be repeating this process with you.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos did as instructed and turned her head wildly back toward Woodward as she stood at the head of the circle. She was smiling gently and offered a look of recognition to each of the Nine. She lingered particularly on Witch in White and Teal, and smiled wider when their eyes met. It was as though Woodward had to tear her gaze away when she went to continue counter-clockwise around the circle. Then her words came like the dead howling of autumns’ leafy laments. “I trust that this intermission has served us well? No matter should be put to a verdict when tensions are so woefully high.” Her voice was wispy, distant, soft, but loud and clear all at once, as if projected beyond her lips into the minds of all whom she addressed. Everyone seemed to be in general agreement. “Then please, bring forth the witches of the hour.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tch!” Chaos spat to the side. “What a sterilized way of saying ‘the accused.’ Yes, I’m starting to remember this trial well.” It had been called a debate, a discussion, a gathering, but those brought forth to answer for their actions were looked at as many would look at criminals. Failure to win over The Nine and Woodward would surely lead to severe punishment, though Chaos wasn’t sure yet how this turned out; that knowledge could only be remembered by witnessing it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Woodward ordered the summoning of the witches, and so they were summoned; none questioned her word save The Nine, seldomly at that. The southern doors to the plaza were opened with much less theatrics. The crowds parted mostly out of fear as the ten “accused” witches and sorcerers shuffled forward. They were neither bound nor pushed along, but they could not leave either. The Olde Chaos was among them, clothed in simple black robes that went over one shoulder. Her face was fiercely defiant in contrast to the guilty and ashamed faces of some of her fellow scholars of eld. They, like the witches who came as part of the audience, or jury, as it were, originated from many lands, but most stuck to wearing clothing that concealed their forms, either to not be recognized or to hide any mutations they have earned from their studies. They came to where Chaos as she was stood: In the center of the plaza, where they waited as whispers and murmurs filled the air; talk of conspiracies and here-say evidenced rumors. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos backpedaled to join the edges of the crowd, making sure she was as far from Woodward as possible, fearing that even as a memory, she would sense Chaos’ presence and lash out at her. When she came to halt beside Ionna, she flinched in recognition. The starry cloaked Fifth of Nine had been like a mother to her, but Chaos knew that she did not stand up for her on that day. Ionna’s face was grim, frustrated even. She wished that things were different, and took no joy in the gathering. Chaos turned her head away from her, casting it to the ground. More memories came to her; those days’ events would mark the divide between her and Ionna. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Woodward continued with a welcoming hand gesture, one that appeared sincere by all accounts but the accused's own. “Welcome back, dearest friends. We hope that you have rested well.” There was a muffled bit of replies from the accused crowd; their lodgings were nice, but the tacit threat of being kept there by force if necessary made none of it desirable. Woodward smiled wider nonetheless. “Then let us begin: Today’s gathering shall mark the end of our week’s long debate. Our business will succinct this day; both sides shall offer closing statements before the matter is put to vote. Might those who argue in favor of the eld speak first?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The accused crowd was quiet. Even those who had bravely come without a covering weren’t exactly feeling very confident after the weeks’ proceedings. They had made their cases to which they held, but the pressure of the eyes upon them, Woodwards’ and The Nines’ especially, made cracks in their composure. Only The Olde Chaos still had the gaul to rudely brush past the other eld scholars to step to the front of the group. “I, ——, shall speak on their behalf, should they permit it!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Must you truly redact every usage of my true name!? I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>hoping</span>
  </em>
  <span> to remember it!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“There is useful memory and there is useless memory. We gave everything to vengeance, our names included.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And we…. You could…. Bah!” Chaos waved dismissively in Will’s direction; she needed to focus, there was no time for bickering. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By then, the accused had agreed to allow The Olde Chaos to speak for them. She began, her voice impassioned and accentuated by gestures of her hands and arms, but she was clearly tired from day after day of arguments. “Witches. Sorcerers. Mages. All of humanity is as tied to the magical flow of the world as our Fae neighbors are. There is no separation between the Earth and the magic within…. Ime, you know this above all, of course.” She pointed to the First of Nine who nodded in agreement. “Then we all accept it to be true. And with that being true, must we not then concede that all of reality is itself bound together by the magical threads, seen and unseen?” General nods and agreement came in response, though there was some hesitancy among the more conservatively minded magical theorists. “Then we must accept that ALL things within reality must therefore be OUR domain: That is, the domain of the magical! If we are to practice our ways, spread across the Earth, all in agreement and pursuit of knowledge, betterment, understanding, then would this not include the eld by default?” That’s where the disagreements began to come more earnestly. The Nine and Woodward calmed the more loud portions of the crowd.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Olde Chaos paced as she spoke. “Clearly there is still a disconnect! The logic still does not add up, no matter how much evidence we have provided for you! We cannot both claim to be beings of curiosity and also deny what could be a fundamental force in the universe! The stars themselves light the night sky, and you would deny the knowledge they may hold? And what of those beings that live in the light of those stars, in between that light? The knowledge of aeons impossible! You would all see it ignored! And for what?” Her passion bled into her visage once more, painting it as frustrated and angry, mirroring the energy that accompanied her every step. “If you are afraid, then say it. If you are being willfully ignorant, then say it. If you have other reasons, then make them clear. Otherwise you are all but cowards in my eyes, and no truly curious creature can be a coward without relinquishing their curiosity! It is a paradox, a contradiction!” A pause came as The Olde Chaos made those more aggressive claims and leveled her gaze at Woodward. “I argue that the eld not only should, but must be studied if we are to live out the very tenets you and The Nine have upheld!” Woodward returned the gaze, though her smile never faltered. “I rest my case.” Then The Olde Chaos turned on her heel and returned to the crowd of accused witches.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cowards they may be, but did I </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> have to call them that…?” Chaos hissed when her olde self spoke the words. Insulting a jury wasn’t exactly the best way to win it over, as she’d soon remember.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Very well. You are heard and understood, ——.” Unexpectedly, Woodward began to drift closer toward the center. Some of the eld sorcerers instinctively backed away and gasped while the braver among them, The Olde Chaos included, stood firm in opposition. “I have been silent on my stance in these matters, but to say that I do not have a position would be a lie…. I was the one who first warned The Nine of dabbling with eld matters, and so it is only right that I offer the final words on the matter.” She looked about to the surprised faces in the crowd, The Nine included. “Earth is our sacred home,” She began, her every word coming as a calm and soothing wind meant to calm and soothe the senses. They only unnerved Chaos further. “And it must be tended to as such…. It is a garden, a field, who’s bounty is love and magic among humanity and Fae. The eld, for all the knowledge they may indeed hold, will bring us nothing but division and fear.” Her eyes gently drifted to The Olde Chaos’ form, which was small by comparison. “They think in ways impossible to us. They perceive reality in modes that have no sense, rhyme, or reason by any mortal standards. To entreat them to our home would be to invite that incomprehensibility into our lives…. We have argued much on the value of the knowledge that could be imparted unto us, but there is nothing to be gained without great cost when speaking of the eld; costs that no one could afford.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And how do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> know that?” The Olde Chaos interrupted, squinting harshly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Woodward quirked her head gently to the left and raised a hand to quiet any gasps or jeers surrounding the interruption. “Because we know as much about the eld as we need to. Any further inquiry is… dangerous, my friend.” She began to frown sorrowfully and came down to one knee. “I can sense it in some of you; that corruption…. If you would wish to be rid of it, merely say the word and I shall see you healed.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Olde Chaos sputtered for lack of a response. She whipped her head around to find many of her “fellow” sorcerers of eld approaching, one going as far as to beg for forgiveness and healing. “Spineless….” She muttered before turning back to find a widely smiling Woodward. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You see, ——, for all the power to be gained, there is </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be lost…. I rest my case.” Woodward rose after brushing a gentle finger across one of the afflicted eld sorcerer's cheek. She glided backward with her eyes closed and continued to speak for a moment more. “Let those who sought my aid leave. To not forgive those who have confessed their errors is an </span>
  <em>
    <span>unforgivable act</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Oh how those words enraged Chaos as she was. She breathed heavily through grit teeth, knowing she was powerless to do anything about what has already happened. “Now, let today’s verdict be decided by wise and thoughtful minds and hearts, beating and thinking in unison in pursuit of the best for our world. Come forth, witches, sorcerers, mages, Fae: Offer up your voices that a conclusion might be reached.” Woodward remarked in such a way as though she already knew the outcome, and for all that Chaos cared, in the past and present, she did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next hour or so flew by in an instant. To Chaos’ surprise, in the past and present, the vote had come too close to be easily called. When the final tally was marked, Woodward’s smile faltered into a grimace for the most fleeting of moments. “And so it has come to this then: Witches Great, Witches Nine in number; step forward.” The Nine did as instructed, forming a horizontal line in front of Woodward. “We have reached an impasse and exhausted all options of discussion…. Though it pains me to delegate this toward a select few rather than the many, I must only hope that the will of the world is well reflected in you, my dearest friends….” Wills’ knuckles cracked as her fists clenched so tightly as to whiten them. “Who among you would vote first?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I will.” Ime proudly spoke, stepping forward as she did so. She was an elderly African woman of dark complexion, clad in green, red, blue, and white raiments. The patterns upon her multi-layered robes were intricate, diamond like, and divided into four sections, one being dedicated to each of the aforementioned colors while bearing yellow, accentuating threads that tied it all together. The Earth and its elements were attuned to her and represented in her clothes, and her headdress was much the same, having four striped bands hanging off of the back of the simple head covering. “Initially, I had many doubts…. I was… certain that all that could come from this was as you say, old friend: Fear and corruption of the flesh.” Her wise eyes turned to the crowd and settled on two witches in particular, witches that Chaos had only noticed just then. They were twins clothed in red and green robes with round, pleasant faces. There was little to be happy about now, but the youthul sisters had an energy and optimism to them that was recognizable at just a glance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cause…. Effect….” The only good thing to come from this memory would be the sight of her friends as they were before The Pact. “To know </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> is what brought us together…. Irony is truly twisted.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I have heard the oppositions’ pleas, claims, and arguments, and found them… sensible. Counsel from my most entrusted apprentices too has swayed me. I vote in favor of the eld….” The crowds, especially those druids and naturalistically minded sorcerers, felt their heads spinning. Ime shushed them with a raised pointer finger and the wrapping of her walking staff. “Though I must advocate for </span>
  <em>
    <span>extreme</span>
  </em>
  <span> caution should we permit such studies.” Ime hummed with finality. It at least served to quiet the naysayers; the Fae scribes and painters up on the roof were having a field day! Such unexpected changes of hearts such as this were no doubt to go down in history. If only that history had been well preserved on Earth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos wanted to smile, but knew better than to get her hopes up. “I never did thank her for doing that…. I can only hope Cause and Effect passed on my appreciation.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Woodward nodded slowly, forcing her smile to remain. One of her long fingers twitched. “You are heard… Ime. That is one vote in favor. Who would speak next?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a silence that followed as Ime returned to her position in the circle at the edges of the crowd, joining the Olde Cause and Effect with a smile and hug from both of them. None of the remaining eight seemed particularly eager to go forward, except one, particularly haggish, hunched, and darkly robed witch with an unevenly horned crown. “Ohh, let’s get this over with! I vote in favor! Now, might I </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span> get out of this dreadful heat?” Vaal dabbed at her sweaty brow with an already quite soggy towel, minding her boils and scars that stung from being toucheds so roughly. Her robes were simple, black, and tied with a rope around the waist which held her mithril tools within reach. She was always ready to get back to work, and this week had been perilously unproductive!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Woodward pursed her lips again and breathed measuredly. Things were not going according to plan. “You are heard, Vaal. That’s two in favor.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If Vaal is in favor, I’m in favor.” Jehanne crossed her arms about her chest. She looked more like a knight than a witch, but the winged hat atop her head, accompanied by the wand and flowing cape, etched in magical symbols, served to separate her from any typical warrior. She was angularly faced, and quite young in comparison to Vaal, her sister. “If the eld truly pose a threat, then it’s one we can handle as we’ve handled every other threat that came before…. And if it isn’t, we stand only to gain from it.” It was an upset! Hunters of the order were already inches away from brawling with each other over the disagreements surrounding this issue, and with Jehanne </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>Vaal’s agreement, that served only to spark the small, fiery fist-fights. A few minutes passed as everyone was brought under control by more level headed mages, and Jehanne herself who had wrestled a few of her more unruly comrades to the ground. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, when all was settled, Woodward sighed. “Three in favor.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Beatrix and Marciane stepped forward next. The Cavendish woman was as hauntingly beautiful as Woodward; many say her sense of fashion was directly inspired, but that was mostly gossip shared about in smoke dens and taverns. Her dress was large, flowing, and floraly adorned, and her hair was similarly long and faintly green and blonde. Marciane meanwhile was a woman from the moors of what would become Spain. She was eclectic in behavior and attire, having adorned herself in various bits of fashion from the Fae peoples whom she brokered peace with roughly one century prior. Her hat was tall like Ishtar’s, but bore bandage-like wrappings and a series of golden rings around the base. A singular pendant lay in the center of those golden links: It was red, green, grey, and dark blue, divided into four sections of a circle. She was relatively old by the standards of The Nine, and predominantly wore brass bits of jewelry from the brimstone lands of the “devils,” dangling floral charms from the elven communities that lay within the limitless forests, boney and decayed effects from the marshes of Fulvula, and bright gems and metal bits offered by the rusted ones high in the mountains. The clothing beneath that was otherwise plain and tan in color. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marciane spoke first. “With the interest of not just our world, the Middle Kingdoms in mind, I vote against permitting the eld…. The peoples of all realms are right to be wary of such things, and their influence already reaches somewhat into the Fae world. I have seen what it can do there, and I know that we should not invite it further.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I am in agreement.” Beatrix added. “The plagues the eld could bring would ravage the land. Woodward, you’ve already shown us that it can be healed, but all of you, look to those who have sought forgiveness; look at their bodies and tell me that they are well.” None could do so as hints of their tentacles and pustulous flesh was revealed on request. “The eld brings only sickness of the mind and body, and I will not stand for it being summoned to our world, or any world for that matter.” Though the Cavendish line was not “noble” yet, her tone was very much that of a noble woman. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos could not argue against Beatrix’s point. Not because there wasn’t evidence to refute her claim, but because Chaos desired nothing more than to be free of whatever sickness claimed her mind, body, and soul. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“There must be a cure…. A way out.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She idly thought before snapping back to attention at Woodwards’ words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Three in favor, two against.” Woodward’s smile returned slightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Witch in White and Teal stepped forth then after Beatrix and Marciane had bowed back to their position in the circle. Her words were as static, having been muddled and hidden by Will’s interference. Her attire even, beyond the colors, was also distorted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Three in favor, and three against.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos gave one hard breath through her nose as her grimace tightened. “Truly twisted indeed….”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A raspy voiced woman, one covered in heavy bandages and rags, with a skull adorned hat atop her head, spoke then. “The dead vote against the eld. Things such as that, things that cannot properly die, those are things that cannot be trusted.” Calixtus coughed the words from her ancient lips. She seemed like an animated corpse that had just roused itself from sleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Calixtus, I am disappointed in you.” Ishtar shook her head. “What is different about this inquest in comparison to the one we held soon after meeting? Did we not rule in favor of allowing the necromantic arts to be studied with care?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Calixtus grumbled harshly while shuffling in place. “Death is but the natural extension of life. It is right to explore it…. I cannot rightly say the eld ever lived at all, nor can I say that they are dead, so I must warn against studying them.” She seemed disinterested comparatively, but then again, Calixtus was always quite dry, and not just in the literal sense. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ishtar sighed. She reached up toward the pendant about her neck, a golden piece of jewelry depicting a lantern; the symbol of the Antiquarian order as a whole. “I vote in favor of the eld.” She said while examining her piece. “We’ve worked hard to protect the world from magical threats that are beyond reproach, and we will always do so…. But we cannot condemn the entirety of the stars for some of the foul things that may lurk between them.” Her eyes went to Jehanne and Vaal and she nodded respectfully. “I trust that if we cannot contain the truly dangerous pieces of knowledge, then the Balefire can ward off the horrors which come from it. We’ll work in tandem, as we always have.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye! Well said!” Jehanne replied as she put her fists against her waist. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, let’s hurry this up! Ionna, what’s your verdict? We’re at a tie vote here!” For all the work Vaal did in a hot and cramped forge, she fared very poorly under a hot sun.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Indeed. There are four in favor and four against, leaving only you, stargazer.” Woodward seemed uncharacteristically tense, but still, she kept her pleasant airs about. “Truly, there is no better person to decide this matter than you, Ionna.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Olde Chaos came forth from the crowd of remaining sorcerers as the rest of The Nine departed for the edge of the circle, leaving only Ionna left to answer. She hesitated to speak to her mentor and mother like figure. They had said so many things they already regretted to one another after the rituals had been revealed. It was that very revelation in fact that spurred Ionna to call this conference, for she was so very torn now. Ionna too was silent, her eyes downcast at her feet with her hands held together at the waist. She had come to know the eld in some capacity before, in a ritual that sullied the entirety of the temple it was conducted in. So great was the “infection” that the landmass itself needed to be banished to where no human or Fae tread. Still, Chaos’ deeds did not good unnoticed. She had been able to use her eld powers for good, and she was much like a daughter to her, as were all of the women of the Pythia. Her heart and her mind were at odds.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Olde Chaos pleaded then in one last attempt to convince the person she was closest to. “Ionna, please. Consider that with but a taste of that power, with just an inkling of aid from generous beings beyond our star... we were able to cure </span>
  <em>
    <span>lepers</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Knowledge once thought lost was found again through the help of a curious traveler from afar. There is good in the universe! We are proof of that! Those things that aided us are proof that!” She reached out and gently held onto Ionna’s arm. “I was careless once, yes, but I have learned from that mistake.” The Olde Chaos could muster no further words then. She was left staring Ionna in the eye with a desperate expression. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your verdict, Ionna?” Woodward urged. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I… I vote….” Ionna was fixated on The Olde Chaos. They shared a long, quiet moment, interrupted only by Ionna’s whispering as she closed her eyes. “I am sorry. There is no other way to guarantee your safety. I can’t lose you….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.... No!” Chaos mimicked her olde self, feeling her skin begin to peel as she watched on. “There’s another way! It doesn’t have to be like this!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I vote—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“YOU WILL DOOM ALL ON THIS ROCK IF YOU DO THIS!” Only now could Chaos see the wisdom in the prophetic words of her olde self. Even their tears were mirrored as Chaos felt the chitinous form of her true self begin to emerge violently from beneath the flesh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—In opposition to the eld.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then there was thunder. Not true thunder; the sky was clear on that day, but the memory was falling apart. Chaos’ madness was becoming difficult for Will to control as she had suddenly been onset by tears in reality itself. Tendrils, pincers, limbs, claws, teeth; all manner of things lashed out at the actors in this would be play of the mind, tearing their frozen forms asunder into piles of inchoate flesh. There was blood! There were screams, thousands of them, but they all belonged to Chaos. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will was only able to assert some form of order to things by pushing them further into the memory. Years went by in a matter of minutes. There were flashes familiar to them both. Chaos had continued to practice her eldritch arts in secret, shown by the many rituals and clandestine gatherings with other mysterious sorcerers that occured over many moons after the trial at Baghdad. More flashes, more changing sceneries; some relevant, some random. Chaos found her vibrating and changing form beside Will as they stood at Pythos for the final time. The ritual that would seal their fate had been done; The Pursuer had been called, The Deceivers’ secrets known. A plan was made, a final attempt at peace. Then came the dark day in The Forest. The Deceiver had been called there by the one she was closest too. The Fates, still in possession of their names and bodies, had come together to show that they knew the truth, and for their honesty, for their genuine hope of a peaceful resolution, they were obliterated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Deceiver had unveiled itself before them. Beneath the dress, beneath the skin, the hair, there were vines, tendrils, flowers; all borne from beyond the sun’s light. Chaos remembered crimson, she felt lashes, thorns, heat! Cause and Effect were disintegrated instantly, and Chaos had only managed to hold fast to life by being a powerful sorcerer of eld magicks herself. She never saw what happened to Will, for she was the last of The Fates to die. To call The Deceiver a sorcerer was a misnomer though. She was not a </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorcerer</span>
  </em>
  <span> of eld, she WAS eld in all ways. Her form was unveiled like a giant blossom as the disguise peeled away into petals, revealing something majestic, beautiful, but horrible given the context. There was regret in its eyes, but so much more instinct, so much more fear and detached disgust. It had been found out and it needed to tie up every loose end, no matter how compliant those loose ends may have been had it tried a diplomatic approach. Even the eld knew panic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos felt her form shatter. The pain of that day was reinscribed onto her mind as much as it was onto her form. The many limbs, antennae, and the strange eyes of her true self became the whole of her being. All that was human was gone, save for her left eye and the mind within which harbored The Child and the other spirits bound to this shape. Her psyche, frail as ever, was kept cohesive only by hate now, and the faintest of hopes that The Child might escape her before it was too late. She was one step from a nightmare that she felt would never end, and brought back to reality, crashing down like a comet. Reality spiraled as her vision became awash in color; and quickly found herself hyperventilating in the air above the channels churning currents. Her claws had now fully formed and were bleeding Will heavily from the hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Witch in White, panting heavily in recovery from the awesome powers her magicks had drawn on, drew away from Chaos with a pained yell as her bleeding hands were mauled upon being retracted. She held them close to her chest and summoned all of the healing magicks she knew to staunch the pain as she forced words from her lips. “Do you remember now? Do you see why We have been so merciless? So cruel? Do you remember </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> we do what we do!?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos wept from her singularly human eye. The ability to cry otherwise had left her biological form, and so she replicated some sort of sobbing noise with her chittering mandibles out of habit. “We remember…. We remember so much….” It wasn’t everything, but it was enough. “No more…! We need no further reminders!” How seamlessly she had lapsed back into the usage of the plural once she had learned how accursed and vile her experience as the singular was. “Loyal! Loyal be will We!” As grounded as she felt, her jumbled mind was still just that, and so were her words at times. “Pain no more! Vengeance! Let us take vengeance and be done with this! With all haste! All strength! N-No hesitations!” She lied. One hesitation remained inside her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“RUN! FLEE! DAMN YOU, HOW MUCH LONGER WILL YOU BE!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She could wait for only so long. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The beating of wings put an end to Chaos’ hysterics before they could properly begin though. A small squadron of dread-steeds was flying away from the island. Will and Chaos both took notice, and despite their shaken selves, knew better than to ignore something like this. Will took charge and called out impatiently. “Vampire! What business do you tend to!?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai’s steed was reigned to a halt nearly fifty feet from The Fates that floated somewhat below him, and his elite guard stopped in turn. He hadn’t even noticed them until now, for he had just left from Castle Bathory with vengeance of his own clouding his mind and vision. He was awash in memories all the while, just as The Fates were, and his were no less bloody. “My business is my own, Fates! Shouldn’t you be tending to that accursed dome?!” He barked in retort, eager to be on the move once again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will and Chaos both flew up to meet him, masking their pain and woe with conjured up expressions while Chaos fiddled with illusory magicks. Ultimately, she could not hide her insectoid self anymore, and the sight of her had Nikolai, though not so violently as to appear afraid. “The Twins will see to that matter,” Will began, holding her slowly mending but bloody hands behind her back. “We were about to begin the hunt for the escaped witches.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> they got away!?” Nikolai was one step from drawing his blade in rage. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fool!” Chaos chittered aggressively, hoping to shout above the voices in her head. “We have only just learned of this! How did you know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Irrelevant.” Nikolai didn’t feel he needed to explain his vengeful instincts. “What matters is that you’ve confirmed they yet live, and if one of them is who I believe them to be, then they will no doubt seek the aid of that dying order.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will and Chaos both looked to one another, surprisingly perplexed. “Order? What dying order?” The former asked after turning back to Nikolai. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They bore the crest of a flame…. The Balefire, I believe they called themselves.” Nikolai grunted in annoyance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Balefire!” Chaos hissed, the memory of that order now fresh in her mind. “Vaal and Jehannes’ pawns are making their moves against us!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then we will crush them all the same.” Will reassured, still catching her breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you would hunt with me, then keep up! I have no patience for your prattling or your schemes!” Nikolais’ words were final as he whipped the reigns of his dread-steed, spurring it to buck and neigh into action. Away from them he went, with hate in his eyes, melding into the dark night that was cast over the land. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Alone or with an army at my back,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Nikolai thought to himself as he leaned forward in his saddle. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I will see their bloodline erased! I will snuff out every candle of their Godforsaken flame!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> If he could have his way, the desires that even he would not speak aloud in his mind or in trusted company, then he would erase his and the Bathory’s from history itself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two Fates, addled by trauma, and exhaustion ridden as they were, had little choice but to push onwards. There would be time to rest when the sun was high, and Nikolai could search no more until the next sunset. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/>
<hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Fireveined</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As promised, Chapter 16 is here! This one focuses wholly on Amanda, Constanze, Maxwell, and a certain man with a gravelly voice! I hope this does a lot to pay off for all the build up I've made regarding the order of the balefire and what it is. For that reason, the chapter's pretty long, but it's got lotsa world building in there!</p><p>I hope you enjoy it! </p><p>My Tumblr!: https://karmotrinedreams91.tumblr.com/</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sleep had been mercifully peaceful for both of the wayward witches. Maxwell’s cabin was small, but big enough to support sleeping bags on the floor, curbing Constanze’s fear of needing to pitch up a tent outside. It was modestly furnished, made only to carry the essentials. He lived mostly off of the land, but made the occasional trip into town to buy preservable foods in bulk. Herbs, plants, and small wooden charms were the most common of accentuates in the space, and gave the otherwise simple interior a floralistic vibe. It was all contained in one room, with a bed, wood-fed stove, several cabinets, and two tables; one meant for alchemy and magical business, and the other for eating on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the aforementioned dining table, Amanda and Constanze were sat, clothed simply in long sleeved sleep-wear and sipping away at freshly warmed soup. It was early in the morning, and a fog was rolling in from Loch Monar. Maxwell had gone out to gather wood for the simple fireplace he had, leaving the two witches from Luna Nova alone. “It ain’t bad.” Amanda idly commented on the flavor of the soup in between spoonfuls. “For generic canned stuff and some raw veggies.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm.” Conz quirked her head to the left and raised her eyebrows unevenly. She shook her free hand in the air horizontally. “Mmm. Lukewarm.” It was just ok, but with a bit of help from Amanda, the slightly undercooked serving was made toasty again. A snap of her sisters’ fingers brought heat to the soup. Constanze sampled it before giving a thumbs up. It had been a surprisingly normal morning, but they knew that wouldn’t last long. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You think this place’ll actually have what we’re looking for?” Amanda’s eyes were still focused on her soup as they passed the time. Once Maxwell got back, they’d get ready to head on out for the order hall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm…?” Constanze shrugged. “We’re looking for a lot of things. No clue.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Most important thing first then: Something to help fight those vampires.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze tapped her wooden spoon in a slow rhythm against the table as she paused from her eating to think. “Sixty percent.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So it’s a coinflip?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sixty, not fifty.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A cloinflip’s sixty when you’re good enough.” Amanda raised her gaze up but kept her head angled kinda down, smiling. “Why such bad odds though?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sixty’s not bad.” Constanze tried to look on the bright side. She knew that for how desperate their situation was, sixty was hardly optimal. They shouldn’t be taking chances like this, but they didn’t have many other options.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And what about our chances of actually leaving here with real help?” Maxwell was a witch, but Amanda didn’t know him well enough to be aware of his skills in combat. He was just an old man pining for better days in her eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No idea.” Constanze went back to take another spoonful from her soup. Once she swallowed it back, she continued. “I trust Lotte. We’ll get help. One hundred percent.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now those are odds I can get behind.” Amanda’s ears perked up then at the sound of grunting and wood clacking outside. “Seems he’s back.” Based on the sounds of his labor though, it’d be a few minutes before he was ready, and for once, Amanda and Constanze didn’t need to rush. “Ok, so what about finding answers on all that weird shit about Vaal and Jehanne. There’s gotta be </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> that explains all of that in this place.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze listened while finishing off her soup, having raised the bowl to her lips to get the last chunks and drops out of it. After setting it down, she stood up and made for her belongings, speaking as she did so. “We’ll get answers. I’m sure of it.” What she wasn’t sure of was if those answers would just raise more perplexing questions. She pulled out her navy coat and boots while searching for some more weather appropriate pants.“We should get dressed. Said it was in the mountains. Must be a hike.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We got a broom, don’t we?” Amanda could have sworn she packed away the broom Benjamin gave them, and after a few minutes inspection, she was glad to find her suspicions confirmed. “Hell yeah. Let’s just hope Maxy’s got one.” Amanda wanted to make a snide comment on how any self respecting witch should have a broom, but then she remembered that she was without a broom for at least a month or two now after it got broken during her travels. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few minutes passed, and the two sisters were suited up in their now signature attires. A knock came at the door from Maxwell. “Are you two decent? I need to get some things!” He called inwardly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda hollered back, “We’re good, come on in!” And so Maxwell entered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t clothed as he was before, in those simple flannels and workmans pants. He was fully robbed in light brown robes that covered him from neck to toe. They were simple, monkish even, but thick and meant to keep the elements out. His hands were gloved in home made leather-wear, and his Gaellicly marked staff accompanied him. A hemp necklace, thinly bound, was held about his shoulders. Down by his chest, a knot was made in the rope, binding the petals and preserved stems of Scottish Heather plants, or Calluna plants, to the necklace itself. His cabin was surrounded by several patches of the stuff, giving the otherwise green and misty landscape a vibrant pink and purple hue. A bit of sweat was mustered on his brow. He was old, but he could still manage the more strenuous tasks of living off of the land as he did, though it tired his scrawnier form much more than it used to. Lastly, his footwear was as traditional as the rest of his attire: He wore tartans with white socks, the latter of which were self made. He eschewed as many of the modern ways as he could, out of nostalgic obstinance, and out of a genuine desire to be fully self reliant. Maxwell’s modern clothing was worn out of necessity, since he couldn’t walk around a city in robes and be treated as normal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With his right arm, Maxwell wiped away the little sweat and dew droplets on his forehead. “You two are ready then?” His age was the only thing keeping his excitement in check. He couldn’t really believe it after years of isolation and decline: The Balefire might just survive. Might was the chiefly operative term though. Amanda had shown initial disinterest in joining, despite the events she claims to have gone through, which Maxwell wholly believed to be true and genuine. Constanze seemed a bit more intrigued at least, and with a proper witch-smith, they could perhaps see the order halls repaired. Maybe they could…. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“No, no. Getting ahead of myself again.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He corrected his train of thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Romantic thinking did you no good in the past, Maxwell. It won’t do you any good now.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>As he was thinking, Constanze and Amanda gave their nods. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell took the next few moments to shuffle inside and gather up what he needed. To Amanda and Constanze’s relief, he did indeed have a broom, though it was as old as he was. The hairs looked more like dried, hay-taken twigs, and the haft was a bit crooked, having been clearly fashioned from some unrefined tree branch rather than cut neatly with tools or magic. He also grabbed himself a drab and worn hat. It had a diamond shaped brim like something a stereotypical medieval huntsman might wear, though it also had a traditionally witchy cone in the center that stood up by about half a foot. It matched the rest of his attire, and fit snuggling on his head, partially hiding his face with how the front of the hat dipped down. “It’ll be a short flight if the fog lets up. I know the way, but the highlands are anything but easy to cross in weather like this, so stay close.” Amanda and Constanze didn’t need to be told twice, and so Maxwell made for the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Constanze was moving to follow him, Amanda whistled for her attention and tapped her on the shoulder. “Oi, one sec Conz.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze glanced back, finding Amanda to have a more vulnerable posture; it was more closed and she was looking very slightly away from Constanze. “Mm?” Amanda was smiling at least, so Constanze didn’t feel this was about anything bad. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just wanted to say thanks for last night. I know we didn’t get to talk, but I’m really happy to know that… you like… care about that stuff, and were thinking about me.” Amanda rubbed the back of her head idly; her tone was genuine. “It’s kinda hard to imagine talking about this stuff with Hannah and Barbara, and I know it shouldn’t be hard with them, but I think you’ve helped me… I dunno….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s ok to be weak sometimes. Have to know who you can be that way with.” Constanze reassured warmly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Exactly…. I’ll have a lot to talk about it with them anyways. Not to like, vent my relationship trouble at you, but we haven’t exactly had the best track record.” Amanda chuckled nervously. “It’s been good, but it’s been bad way too often. We’re fixing that, but we gotta fix our own shit to do that, you know? You’ve… kinda helped me realize that.” She’d put the lesson offered into practice from here on out, “I’m gonna be better for them, but for me too. I’m tired of carrying around all this stupid baggage you know?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Constanze knew the feeling all too well: The difficulty sleeping on nights where she had nothing else to do. The mornings after nights where she actually managed to sleep a full ten hours and </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> felt like she hadn’t slept a wink. It was an endless exhaustion. “Not easy to get rid of. Takes time.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeaaah… I know” Amanda sighed tiredly before wiping her face and psyching herself up internally. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Things are gonna be different now. We’ve got a plan, we’ve got help, and we’re gonna get more help. We’re gonna get through this or my name isn’t Amanda-Freakin-O’Neill!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Confidence returned to her posture and expression with a moment taken to breath. “But hey, the best time to start something good was yesterday, and the next best time to start is now…. I mean, we </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>talk about it yesterday so…. Oh you get the point, heheh.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze breathlessly chuckled in turn before beckoning Amanda toward the door. “Come on. Work to do.” She went to meet Maxwell outside as Amanda followed close behind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right with you.” They’d hopefully find some time to work out Amanda’s issues later. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ride up and around the long slopes of Sgùrr na Lapaich was longer than expected. The mists made travel expectantly difficult, but they had left early in the morning, so there was plenty of time left to do whatever it is they would need to. What surprised Amanda and Constanze was the innocuous nature of the place they landed. Maxwell had flagged them down just over a small valley between two minor mounds that were on the same loose plateau. Everything seemed just as natural as the rest of the highland hills, but he had explained it was hidden by illusion, so they guessed that it was meant to look like this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell was standing about twenty feet from Amanda and Constanze, who had dismounted and were waiting with anticipation by a large, grey, moss covered boulder. He stoically looked on toward the valley’s deepest point, a harsh slope on either side formed a ditch; it was here where the entrance lay. He held his staff in his right hand while his left went inside of his robes. From it, he produced a simple torch coated in mundane oils. He then knelt down to plant it in the earth before the illusioned entrance and muttered Gaellic incants as he did so. As he rose to his feet, his spellcasting grew louder, and he brought his staff to stand in front of him, his arms held out rigidly to grasp it in both hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The wind grew harsh around him, causing Constanze and Amanda both to raise their arms to shield themselves from the buffeting breeze. It wasn’t cold winter air that came at them though, but warm, dry, summery winds. The chanting became fully audible as Maxwell’s head began to loll back and forth in a sway. The packed earth by the torch began to shift and fracture, revealing olden stonework beneath. His eyes fell to it and focused on the torch with an intensely hard gaze, one that made his usually stoic and focused expression seem relaxed. As his intensity only increased, the stone structure rose higher from the earth, parting the dirt as it did. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It appeared to be a sort of small obelisk, or perhaps a signal light, for the torch that had been planted in the ground was held within a sconch perfectly fitted to its shape. It’s elongated body stretched about six feet upward, and from the pyramid shape apex where the torch was held, it was rectangular shape all the way down to the ground. On its four faces, Gaellic runes accompanied two depictions: One was on the top half, depicting witches, warriors, and mages wielding weapons and torches, all holding them high and toward a single point in the air. The skyward point they were all fixated on was marked by an etching of a broombound woman with long flowing hair with a winged witch hat. The features of her face, like all of the faces, were obscured, but she appeared to be heavily armored, and wielded lance and a torch of her own; both were ablaze, with the former being held up in triumph. On the second depiction that took up the lower half, they could see that many figures, most witches, but some appearing to be as plain workmen and laborers, wielding hammers, tongs, and other tools associated with smithing, all kneeling and pointing downward with their wielded affects. Below them, in what must have some sort of cave based on how the stonework was darkened around the etching, a haggish, hunchback, and black robed witch with a horned crown hammered at an anvil wrapped in chains. Etchings of chains also connected the top and bottom murals which were mirrored on every side of the obelisk. Finally, at the peak, just below where the torch was held high, the symbol of the Order was emblazoned into the stone: Three lances, with a torch behind, surrounded by a ring of chains, completed the structure. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell continued his chanting that had begun to echo across the highlands like a druids’ trance fueled dirgings as he approached the obelisk. With every step he wrapped his staff against the earth until he came close enough to be but a foot from the stone structure. He held his staff up with both hands, and at the peak of the gnarled oaken stick, bright blue magic had gathered. It danced over to the unlit torch and set it alight with blue flame. Then, with finality accompanying his final incanted words, he slammed his staff to the ground, concluding the ritual. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blue fire grew immensely from but a humble torch, and darted out like banshee spectres in a swirling tornado about the obelisk’s full length. Maxwell did not move, nor did he speak, he did not fear the flames, and patiently awaited the fire to do as it must. The fires then cascaded into the ditch, coating it in a napalm like layer that shimmered and glowed strangely. Constanze and Amanda turned their eyes away from the sudden glare, having been accustomed to the gloomy and relatively grey daytime light. When they turned back, they saw the ditch had been transformed as the illusion was literally burned away, sending burning embers off into the wind to fizzle out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What replaced the innocuous ditch was another stone structure, one much more complex than the last: A great set of stone stairs had been revealed, leading down into a pitch black, steep decline down into the mountain. The entrance itself looked more like a tomb or a cairn, having become heavily overgrown in various mosses and herbs around the stone outcropping that roofed part of the stairs. Two sconces were on either side of the entrance, but bore no torches, and yet they came to light from the initial fire that was lit. The blue flame jumped from one space to another, leaving behind a bit of light to guide the witches down into the order hall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, after the torch on the obelisk had been relieved of all flame, having been left blacked, did Maxwell speak. “It is done. Come. Let us go.” He readjusted his slightly cocked hat as the warm winds died down and made for the stairwell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, shit.” Amanda quietly remarked. “Maybe he’s not just a weird old guy after all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span> hurry along.” Maxwell had heard that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eheh… coming!” Amanda quickly caught up with him while Constanze just rolled her eyes and walked along at a steady pace with their broom carried over her right shoulder.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The stone was old, cold, and the acoustics of the sloping pathway downward carried their every footstep with an audible </span>
  <em>
    <span>clack!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Holes in the walls showed spots where animals had burrowed previously; it was always a trouble to fix those, and even more so to actually get the critters to come out of their new homes. It was all very drab at first, during their five minutes of nothing but </span>
  <em>
    <span>clack! Clack! Clack!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Just stone walls and blue torches. Amanda and Constanze were just starting to get suspicious that the stairwell was repeating itself when they finally could see the bottom; they must have been halfway down the mountain now, and based on how the stairwell was structured, Constanze estimated that they hand angled inward, otherwise the order hall would be visible on the mountain face to the south. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At first, the opening seemed small, but upon reaching the last three steps, Maxwell spread his arms out wide. “Welcome. Welcome to the Balefire of Caledonia.” The space had opened up twenty fold. It was massive! Amanda whistled impressively while Constanze set aside the broom to marvel at the architectural integrity of something that was so very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> old:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Down the rectangularly shaped room, which stretched on for about two thirds of an (American) football field in length, was roofed by gothic arches that connected to pillars equidistantly placed down the length of the room every forty feet or so. Long wooden tables, which fared worse in comparison to the stone in terms of aging, filled the spaces between every other set of pillars, and behind them, against the walls, were old paintings, tall bookcases that nearly reached the ceiling, shelves lined with arcane bric-a-brac, and statues of various witches, all adorned similarly to the skeletal warriors Amanda met down in the sanctum. What separated their appearance from those very warriors were the clothes they wore. Instead of sleek black pants, they wore gambeson dresses that reached down to their knees with kilts and skirts over and underlaid. Their chest armor was also less traditionally knight-like in appearance, and was more loose fitting and lighter looking based on the renditions. Some of them were posed stoically with their weapons and wands held before their face or down toward the ground in front of them, while others were triumphantly gesturing or pointing forward with their implement. They were women, men, persons betwixt and without gender, and Fae; the Balefire served and trained all kinds. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>More torches lined the great pillars that towered over the eight foot tall room, casting a dim light below, but one bright enough to easily navigate the space. Constanze and Amanda could clearly see what this was for: It was a “grand hall” of sorts. Old and rotting chairs were strewn about, ancient books lined the tables, simple wooden plates and bowls that never did get returned to the likely caved-in-kitchen sparsely populated the ground and spaces between books alike. Burnt out candles, melted down to the wick, adorned silver candelabras on every table, and the keen eyes of the sisterly witches would spot more doors and pathways, four to be exact, leading out to other parts of the complex, no doubt containing various facilities. What caught their eyes most however lay at the very end of the hall, where two, massive, rectangularly shaped stone doors reached to the ceiling. Upon the faces of those slabs, in the center where they met, was the symbol of the order, wrapped in the words: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“This Fire is Ours,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Written in Scottish Gaelic, Irish Gaelic, Anglo-Saxon, Modern English, Olde English, and Welsh. Below that stood a towering figure:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Their posture was hunched, their body was muscular and laid bare, covered only by a simple cloth kept to their form by a tight chain belt, adorned with various fetishes including the bones of various things and several arcane plants. They appeared to be masucline in body, based on the wide, broad shoulders compared to the relatively rectangular and thin waist. They were most certainly not a normal human though, for their skin was a dark grey, almost purplish color. Many scars marked their back, thighs, arms, and surely stretched around to their front even though Amanda and Constanze couldn’t see it from where they stood. The being stood at about seven feet in height were they to uncurl their back, but in their current posture, they were only about six or five and a half foot tall. Spikes, or bones, or </span>
  <em>
    <span>bone spikes</span>
  </em>
  <span> protruded along their back sporadically down to the shoulders. They were toothlike in shape, about six inches to one foot in length, and varied in thickness from sliver-like to looking like a boar tusk. The ones on their bald head were like the former, thin, and seemed to constitute for “hair” though they were better compared to a porcupines’ bristles. All of the spikes were angled downward, but their purpose was inscrutable beyond serving as a defense mechanism to strikes that attacked the upper back of the being. From where they stood, the last thing they could note was the long, somewhat elfin shape to his ears, but they were wider and less triangularly shaped than a proper elf; more wide and outwardly framed…. Bat like, perhaps?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The entity was looking over a wooden table at the end of the hall, completing the U-shaped arrangement of furniture in front of the great stone door, with their hands palmed against the table’s surface, holding some large piece of paper down. The trio of witches who had just entered could hear the sounds of what must have been radio chatter emanating from that location given how the sound reverberated down the great hall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is… that your friend?” Amanda wasn’t liking the look of this guy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye. Do not mind his appearance. I’ve known him for years.” That didn’t really make Amanda or Constanze any more comfortable as they approached. They were both so suspicious as to give each other a wary look while quietly drawing their wands. Maxwell couldn’t see them doing so given he was ahead of the two. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before they could make much headway to the being at the end of the grand hall, their head perked up. They reached out and turned off the radio to their side, and from where Amanda and Constanze were standing, they could see the being’s face scrunch up; they were sniffing at the air. Their head did not fully turn, but they spoke loud enough to send their  voice back toward the trio. The voice was gravely, stoney almost, but curiously intoned. “I did not think you would have returned so soon, Maxwell. It is good to see you again. The situation is grave….” They paused and looked back down to whatever it was they had on the table. “Though you would have done well to inform me that you were bringing guests to the hall so soon.” There was no discernible accent that could be detected. It was such a mishmash of pronunciations and intonations, dialectical influxes and soundings, that it was difficult to understand the being at times. Above all though, their speaking was gruff, deep, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>refined</span>
  </em>
  <span> in some strange sense of the word, as if every word was carefully chosen before being uttered, even when they were being blunt or plain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell replied as they crossed the distance between the group and the gravelly voiced one, nearing the halfway point. “If we had the time, I would have led you out to meet them first, but it seems you know why we don’t have that time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The gravelly voiced man seemed to hiss or growl in though as though he were humming. “I know as much as the mundane folk do: From their ramblings and reports I can divine that it is nothing pleasant.” Speaking of unpleasant things (to the typical sensibilities at least), he turned about to reveal his face. Yes, there was no doubt about it now: He had </span>
  <em>
    <span>bat-like features</span>
  </em>
  <span>. His face was triangularly shaped, and his mouth was much taller and wider compared to typical humans; it possessed a  cut down toward the chin, making it dip in a wide V-formation. Two thick fangs befitting a “small” saber toothed tiger jutted out from where his canines would be and reached down just a hair past his chin. His two front teeth on the top were also malformed, acting as a smaller pair of fangs found on a typical vampire-bat, proportional in size to his maw. The rest of his chompers were just as sharp and no less deadly. Almost all of them were visible as the flesh surrounding his immediate mouth had been shredded and rotted away; indeed, he was somewhat corpse-like in all ways. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rest of his facial features were pushed upward as a result of his large mouth. His nose was flat, </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it was a sideways oval with two holes, and seemed paler than the rest of his otherwise purple-grey flesh. His eyes were surprisingly large in comparison, and were just as terrifying as his teeth. They were large, pitch black, marked by small bright red irises, and surrounded by eye sockets that were sullen and sagging, causing him to always look just a bit glum if you could get past the piercing, unblinking gaze he maintained. From the front, and as the witches drew closer, they could see his flesh was taught, by the armpits and around the chest, but old and a bit rotten in other areas where deep scars must have healed over from gods-know what kind of wounds. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hands were claws; long, and gangly. They still possessed five fingers that were normally shaped, but the nails were so very long, nearly eight inches when fully extended, and so </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> sharp. They were receding; retracting into his arm with a quiet but sickening sound of gentle crunches and cracks until his nails were </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> two inches long. Indeed, his muscle and bone structure seemed to be changing to accommodate the form he desires most, though clearly he didn’t desire a very appealing face, or he couldn’t change that aspect of his looks. His size was decreasing and his back straightened out with a heavy crack so that he was about Maxwell’s height; just an inch or two taller than Amanda. Similarly to his claws, the bony protrusions on his back receded somewhat. Clearly, he couldn’t retract them fully, but they weren’t as prominent anymore. Lastly, upon his chest, an intricate tattoo of seemingly arcane origin marked his grey-purple skin in red paints. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze and Amanda were mortified. They had seen </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span> like this man, and given their already present fears that Maxwell may be leading them to some sort of trap, they raised their wands in defense. Amanda pointed hers at the graveley voiced man while Constanze backed up and held hers at Maxwell. “All right! Start talking! What the FUCK is going on here, and who the FUCK is that!?” Amanda demanded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell was understandably startled, and upon turning just enough to see charged spells leveled at him as his friend, he raised his hands up and dropped his staff. Of all the reactions he was expecting, he was woefully unprepared mentally for being held at wand-point. “W-Wait! Don’t! I apologize for not—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The gravelly voiced man growled once and grew a few inches taller as he rolled his shoulders. His speaking interrupted Maxwell’s own attempts at an explanation, his volume booming down the hall. “Just what do you think you’re doing, witch? Has my friend here not shown you kindness? Trust? He has brought you here, to this most sacred place, and you repay him with threats!?” Unlike Maxwell, he showed no signs of being cowed by the threats. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Answers. Now.” Constanze reaffirmed, taking yet another step back as Amanda mirrored her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry! I didn’t want to frighten you, b-but after you told me we were warring with the Bathorys—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Bathorys have returned!?” The gravelly voiced man took a half step back in surprise, his posture opening up in tandem. His eyes grew a bit larger, which didn’t help to make him any less terrifying from a glance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-We’re asking the questions first!” Amanda stuttered. Based on the monstrous looking man’s reaction, maybe they were wrong to presume this was some sort of trick.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maxwell. Talk.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If everyone would stop interrupting me I didn’t say anything because—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A dumbfounded look of realization spread across the gravelly voiced man’s face. “Maxwell….” The monstrous man ignored his friend’s complaint. “Did you fail to tell them what I was? Did you even mention me at all?” Something about the way he said those words made it seem like this wasn’t the first time Maxwell had forgotten to inform others of his comrade’s vampiric nature. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They were attacked by the Bathorys! I was worried that if I told them that you were a vampire, they wouldn’t have heard me out!” Maxwell was being honest. He had informed all of the other witches he invited to join him of his friend’s vampirism, and generally ghoulish appearance, but Amanda and Constanze’s situation made that task a little more tricky; so much had been going on as is, it was easy to overlook. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>“Woah, woah, woah! </span><em><span>THAT</span></em> <em><span>thing’s </span></em><span>a vampire?” Amanda had killed vampires. Constanze had too. What they were looking at did </span><em><span>not</span></em><span> seem like a vampire.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The would-be vampire chuffed and crossed their long arms about their broad chest. “I am not an </span>
  <em>
    <span>it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I have a name…. But yes, I am one who has been cursed by the red moon, though I am not your enemy, assuming you have the good sense to put those wands away.” He obliged them with a downward turn of the head and an impatient look. To be frank though, all of his looks were mildly horrifying, so no matter what emotion he was actually expressing, he always seemed a bit angry, or perhaps hungry, or both. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda and Constanze looked to each other once again. The former raised her free pointer finger up. “Can you give us a minute?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you l-lower those wands?!” Maxwell urged, still feeling quite concerned that he was about to be blasted. The two witches sighed in unison before doing as asked, allowing Maxwell to drop his arms to his side and catch his breath. He was battle hardened and wise, but his older heart wasn’t the best at dealing with such sudden stress anymore. The ghoulish vampire then gestured toward them, signalling that they would have their minute. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Amanda and Constanze were backing away, never keeping their eyes far off from the other two, said vampire walked over to Maxwell and clasped a claw on his shoulder. “My friend, I know you have yearned for sorcerous company, and to rebuild the order, but you could have at least made sure the witches you were bringing here had no intention of betraying you.” They hadn’t betrayed them yet, but the sisters hadn’t made the best of impressions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They won’t betray us.” Maxwell said through his heavier breathes as his humors died down. “I’ll let them speak for themselves, but believe me when I say they’re decent folk.” The ghoulish vampire sighed deeply before turning about face to examine his map one final time as he impatiently waited for Amanda and Constanze to return. Maxwell could only watch the two from a distance with sucked in lips, hoping deep in his heart that they would come around. He could see them set up on one of the long-tables about halfway down the grand hall’s length. They sat across from one another and spoke hushly: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok, first off, do you think we can take ‘em if this turns out to be fucked?” Amanda was giving intermittent looks down the length of the hall to keep an eye on the hulking vampire. Truly, she had never seen anything like it, save were-bats, perhaps, but even they only transformed into such creatures as a result of a curse, and it was ultimately temporary and controllable. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No way.” Constanze’s physic oriented brain could tell just by how his body had changed and the size of him, based on how strong the other vampires were, that this one was at least three cuts above. She didn’t know how, didn’t know why, but she knew that with what they had on them, which regrettably did not include her blaster-caster, they stood no chance. “Don’t… know if we need to. I…. I think they might be telling… the truth.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, so a </span>
  <em>
    <span>vampire</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you know, a big blood sucking monster that’s like, undead and shit, works with a bunch of witches who </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill vampires</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Amanda couldn’t think very straight immediately, for the sight of the horrible visage was much like that of the insectoid witch. He was unsettling, but thankfully, less intensely than the wyrd witch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not just vampires. All kinds of monsters.” Constanze corrected. “Vampires are just transformed humans, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeeeeah…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then just like people, they… must be able to be good or bad. Can’t be born evil. I don’t think a vampire bite makes you evil.” At least Constanze didn’t see anything about that in the notes, though she remembered it mentioning something about the thirst for blood having an effect on a person’s psychology.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean… yeah.” Amanda supposed she had to apply the same logic she did to were-bats and lycanthropes to vampires, which made sense. She had to try and push the immediate prejudices from her mind that had sprung up due to the Bathorys’ attacks, since they were the only vampires Amanda had actually ever encountered. “Like that’s… fair, but…. Well, I guess if we’re fighting vampires, then the best person to talk to on </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> to fight them is a vampire themself.” Pragmatically there was no objection, but Amanda still had one lingering question. “But is that </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> a vampire? Like, look at ‘em!” Amanda did so, as did Constanze, and all they could see was the ghoulish man staring back at them blankly with what must have been a neutral expression. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Freaky. Really freaky… but not evil.” Constanze looked back to Amanda and took a deep breath. “If they wanted us dead or worse, they would have killed us or taken us hostage. We threatened them and they didn’t try to stop us. And they both seem to know the Bathorys are a threat. We have to try.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda sputtered air from her lips. “Guess we don’t got much of a choice now…. But what are we gonna ask ‘em? Like, I wanna litmus test this guy before to see if their stories match up about this Balefire B.S.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” Constanze raised a fist up and counted off the list on her fingers. “First, what this place is and what the Balefire is or was. Second, what and how they know about the Bathorys. Third, why he doesn’t look like any of the other vampires.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And fourth: If he actually wants to help us or if Maxwell was talking out of his ass.” The sisters nodded once to each other with determined faces; their list of questions was ready. Both of them picked themselves up from the creaking wooden chairs and headed on down toward the other two with as much confidence as they could muster.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once they had arrived back with Maxwell and company, Amanda took the lead. “Ok, we’ve talked it out, and we’re… sorry about that.” She continued, pushing past the initial awkwardness. “But uh, the only vampires we’ve ever met tried to kill us and are kinda trying to kill and kidnap our friends sooo… yeah. Maxwell kinda had a good reason not to tell us… I guess.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Still should have.” Constanze grumbled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Again, I’m sorry, but I had my reasons.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Poor ones.” The vampire added plainly, causing Maxwell to sigh and shake his head. “Nevertheless. If you’re quite done threatening us, then perhaps you could tell me exactly what it is that brings you here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Questions first. Need to make sure we can trust you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh for…!” The vampire began before he stopped himself and took in deep, long breathes, as if meditating. “Fine. Fine. Ask your questions and let us be about this.” He relaxed his posture again and fell silent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda started off the brief “quiz” as it were: “Ok, so first off, where are we, and what purpose did it serve?” She only knew the first part of the question, and could infer the second half, but was mostly asking to make sure that Maxwell and the vampires’ stories matched up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“D-D-Did I not tell you that we’re—” Maxwell was then shushed by Constanze. He relented with a groan and began to rub his temples.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The vampire looked to Maxwell, and then Constanze, seeming confused for a moment before he divined the intent of this little query. “Hmmph. This is The Balefire of Caledonia: A base of operations for witches and warriors who served The Order of The Balefire in the past. This particular order hall allowed us to extend our influence across the Anglo-Celtic Isles.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok….” Amanda nodded, satisfied with that answer. “And what did the order do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Its agents served the people of the world, keeping them safe from powerful magical threats and dispensing our wisdom across the land. We taught people how to fight for themselves when no one else would, and stood alongside them.” While his manner of speaking was grizzly and muddled by the many overlapping pieces of various accents, he sounded genuine. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright: Second question—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is the third question.” The vampire drolly corrected.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“T-That was a two part-er! Second question: How do you know about the Bathorys being vampires?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And what did you mean when you said they </span>
  <em>
    <span>returned</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Constanze added. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Our order was one of several who stood in opposition to theirs, and the reign of all monarchs, but especially theirs.” The vampire folded their hands together, interlacing their claws. “Our war against the Bathorys was not like the ones waged by our allies though. They fought in the open fields; in the light where the parasites and their enslaved minions knew they could not win. We fought a war of shadows and assassins. Such is our way when dealing with the threats that walk among us unseen. They believed themselves safe and superior in the dark, and it was their downfall….” Then he grimly hummed, lamenting the history. “If only we have been quicker to slay her. Our hunters had… difficulties breaching the castle walls, and so we arrived on the day of a battle that we hoped to see avoided entirely. The outcome, had we gone through with the assasination, would have left the roused peasants dead, perhaps to a man, and put the lives of many witches and fae in danger as well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze and Amanda both were caught off by the sincerity and detail provided in the answer. The former pressed for a greater explanation. “Why would they have died? Wouldn’t surrender?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm.” The vampire nodded solemnly. “We were given an ultimatum: We imprison their queen, dismantle their kingdom, and break up the broods, but allow them to go free, or we kill her, and in doing so, she would let slip her entire brood. Most of them were so loyal to her that they would have fought as men possessed. They would have killed until their bodies could fight no more. The hunters tasked with that mission couldn’t bring themselves to condemn the many lives who had bravely come to lay siege when a less bloody option was available…. I cannot speak for the correctness of their actions, for I was not there to witness it. We must simply live with the facts of history: They are awakened now. The clan no doubt rebuilt itself, as we suspected it would…. Even with the agreement, we hunted down as many of their original number as we could, but they had hid themselves well. I remember hearing word from The Balefire in…. Oh what is the name of that land….” He wracked his brain, sifting through the hundreds of maps he’d come to know in his absurdly long un-life. “Moldova, yes, that one. I remember they were sending word out to other parts of the order around the turn of the last century that vampiric activity in the Balkans had increased. Sadly, the wars that soon followed distracted and ultimately doomed our order to a slow, quiet death.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell wanted to argue against it. He wanted to proclaim these two witches as the saviors of the Balefire. He knew he couldn’t put those words in their mouths though, and so he resigned himself to quietly listening. Constanze was the one who broached the third question. “Third question: Why don’t you look like other vampires?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a pause that seemed awkward to Amanda and Constanze, but one that was natural for the one she addressed. He was pondering on the best way to explain it. “Vampires are… near timeless beings. If one has an unlimited supply of blood, then they could live forever.” Another pause came as he looked down to the markings on his chest and traced them with a singular finger. “I do not remember where I come from, nor do I know how many years I have lived. What I do not know is that I am old enough to have met the Nine in their prime. I lived long before that as well, but I cannot say for how long….” He continued to trace the symbol written into his flesh until it was complete. Once finished, he examined his scarred forearms with reminiscently soft eyes. “You see, for vampires, to age means to consume, and to consume is to grow in strength. My kind has always lived by the blood of others. It is because of a bargain made so very long ago that we even exist, and in that bargain, a price was set: The blood of our fellow men. That was what the one who turned me said; perhaps he was one of the first, or perhaps she was passed on that same story by the one who came before them, but I cannot remember their face or name. The memory is too distant.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sooo… you’re saying vampires get… stronger—” Amanda wanted to say “freakier” but decided to not be rude for once. “The older they get?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Exactly. If a vampire is to survive, they must feed. The more they feed, the more… changed... they become….” The ghoulish vampire took one last look over himself and shook his head. “I have also performed certain… sacraments. I am not proud of what I have become, or what I did, but I cannot go back. In lieu of a cure outside of true-death, I am lucky to have found a way to quell that hunger indefinitely, albeit with stipulations.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t drink blood?” He nodded at Constanze’s question. “What are the rules?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I must remain close to a Balefire in order to keep my form and sanity. I have become well and truly immortal; a spectre or ghost if you will, made of flesh, but bound to the flames.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda crossed her arms about her chest. Things were getting weirder by the minute.  “First off, what do you mean ‘truly immortal?’ You said yourself that vampires are already immortal.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you slain a vampire?” The gravelly voiced man simply asked. When Amanda and Constanze both nodded, the vampire before them nodded in turn, but instead of in confirmation, it was in appreciation of their ability. “That is no small feat. Even fledgelings are dangerous foes. But I digress: They can still die. I cannot die. Not in any conventional way…. My body will fade. I will become dust, but I will always return to my coffin, here, deep below the earth. It may take years for my body to reform itself, and I may lose more of my memories upon revival, but I will inevitably return.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you don’t even need to drink blood!? Dude, how the fuck haven’t you like, taken over the world or something?” Constanze groaned at Amanda’s, admittedly, asinine question. She only realized how dumb it sounded a moment later, but she felt there was still something valuable to learned from the query. “You heard me!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If… you’re… asking why I do not simply do as… I please….” The vampire wasn’t really sure how to take the whole “taking over the world” angle. “I am here because I am doing as I please. I have chosen this fate. The only thing which allows me to exist as I do lies in the enchantments placed upon my coffin. This mark upon my chest binds me to it.” He placed a claw over it and continued. “I would not allow myself to drink ever again, and so I enlisted the help of powerful Fae and witches; Calixtus, Eighth of Nine, assisted in the ritual. The Balefire was kind enough to allow me not just a peaceful eternity, but a purpose: A means of atonement for the sins of my past; for all of the suffering I know I’ve inflicted on others because of the thirst. I am the guardian of this place, and so, were I to stray too far for too long from a Balefire, I would lose my sanity and return to a blood-starved state, and eventually perish, only to be returned here.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damn.” Amanda plainly said. “Uhh… good on you for being the better man, I guess.” She was in that awkward, yet familiar position of having asked a deeply personal question, or having otherwise made an unwittingly insensitive statement, only to feel like a complete arse in the next moment. “Sorry to prod, but, I mean, you get it, right?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do not understand what you want me to retrieve, but I understand you if that is what you are meaning.” Hey may have been a well traveled polyglot, but slang and modern lingo was beyond him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Last question—” Constanze paused, remembering they didn’t even know who this guy was beyond being Maxwell's friend. “Two questions, actually. What’s your name?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The name that I have taken up is Asgall. As I have said, I went by many names. Let this serve as the one you know me by.” Asgall, pronounced Ask-all, had taken up a traditionally Scottish-Gaelic name, for it was the culture of the land he had come to reside in, and that was his way. “Your final question?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was simple in Constanze’s head, but it was difficult to put into words. Not literally: They needed help, and Maxwell had promised it, but was she just going to say: “Will you help us?” Before she could think much more about it, she realized that the words had escaped her lips in a murmur, one that Asgall’s keen ears had picked up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You will need to be specific in your request for aid. I can do much, and yet I can do so little.” Asgall picked at his teeth idly with a growing claw, cleaning out anything that may be stuck between them as he looked to Maxwell. “You mentioned the Bathorys having returned. Is it true, Maxwell? Do these women have proof of their claims?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ohhh, Asgall…. There is so much to explain. I don’t think I’ve been this excited in years!” Only now was Maxwell actually displaying any of that excitement; in a restrained manner, of course. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do not believe the prospect of the Bathorys returning to be exciting. Dreadful. Horrible. Terrible. Those words serve as much better descriptors.” Asgall paused to look at a tiny piece of what must have been bread that he ate earlier; not out of need, but because tasting normal foods helped distract his mind from the memory of what blood tasted like. “I asked for proof of the claim, not about your emotional state.” He then flicked the crumb away as his elongated claw retracted into his flesh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“M-My apologies! It’s just… these witches, they’ve brought me more hope than I thought possible.” Maxwell gestured to Amanda and Constanze who looked between one another before staring back at Maxwell. “Before I lose myself again though: Aye, I believe them. Their story adds up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Their story… adds…. You are saying it is believable?” Maxwell nodded to Asgall in response. “Believable stories are all around us, friend. I cannot deny the attacks on the lands to the south: The Mundane have recognized them, and so they must be true.” So many accidents and incidents had been previously written off as a hoax, or were explained using falsified data when it was otherwise found to be paranormal in cause. “But I will not jump to conclusions based on simple testimony.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Not to butt in, but we have proof.” Amanda stepped forward. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kind of.” Constanze added, fishing her notepad from her small backpack and flipping to the pages where she’s written Nikolai’s name and drawn a copy of the Bathory heraldry. “We didn’t know at first. They were knights. Silver armor, pointy pieces, black capes. They had this symbol on it.” She presented the aforementioned heraldry for Asgall and Maxwell to look at. The latter hadn’t the need to see such proof, for he trusted the witch sisters for their deeds. “One of them called himself Nikolai Zrinski.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can kinda describe the bastard if that helps:” Amanda cleared her throat. “He had this shitty head of brown hair that he barely even combs, and he’s a pale and tall guy too, you know, being a vampire and all. He had this all black armor with red bits because I guess he didn’t think he looked cool compared to his shit-eating friends, and he had a shaved down chinstrap thing going on that really just doesn’t work, you know?” Maxwell, Asgall, and Constanze looked to Amanda with inscrutable confusion. “What!? It’s how he looks! Not my fault the guy’s ugly as fuck.” She mostly just wanted to practice shit-talking him for when they would eventually meet again. Amanda had to make sure her insults were perfect, and she would swear up and down that such insults had a purpose! One beyond being fun to hurl out, that is. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahem.” Maxwell awkwardly looked around before settling his eyes on Asgall. “Well, from what I’ve read about them, it’s a perfect match.” Better to just move past that bit from Amanda. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is indeed their colors. The name is unfamiliar to me, but I shall endeavor to search our volumes for mention of him. If he was a prominent vampire lord, among the Bathorys or otherwise, then we will have record of him.” Asgall was already walking over to skin the lower levels of the nearest bookshelf. The trio of witches followed after his slow and steady strides, listening as he continued. “How did they assail you? Where are they now? If you would face them, we will need to know where they lurk.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In… a giant blimp over Luna Nova where we kinda stopped time to stop the Bathorys from killing just about every witch inside.” Amanda started slow, but rushed through the explanation soon after beginning. She wasn’t sure how to explain it beyond that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall froze mid step, took another meditative breath, and finished his step so that he could begin examining the spines of the various books and scrolls. “Maxwell, could you please confirm that what I have just heard is the fever dream of a madwoman?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well… I didn’t see it for myself but… there’s definitely some foul magic at work over Luna Nova. There’s been a storm raging over it for a few days now, and now even the mundane weather stations are starting to take notice. It hasn’t moved at all, and it rages day and night.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze grunted once to interject. “That was the only warning we got. Sky turned black. They have a big ship; don’t know from where, don’t care. They weren’t alone either. They have help.” Asgall turned his head about to listen, but otherwise kept dragging a claw along the row of books. “Three witches. One wears black. One wears red. One wears green. They’re powerful, but they can’t hurt us directly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda spoke angrily as she remembered the way she had to kill so many otherwise innocent Fae. “They’re using some kind of mind controlling magic to make a bunch of Fae and monsters go berserk. They’ve got some kinda necromancy going on too: There were tons of undead, but they didn’t have the red aura around their eyes that the Fae did.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall hummed and slowly turned his head back toward the bookshelf. His focus had been interrupted by the description of the witches. Any witch could wear black, red, and green colors, but to have them be mentioned as a group </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> be accompanied by a ruling of degrees that guided their actions…. He knew something of it, but not much. Had he met them before? Perhaps, but the memory was gone from him. “I will keep that in mind…. Now how did you stop time?” It wasn’t necessarily important, but he was certainly curious. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Luna Nova’s got this thing called The Hologarium hidden below the library. It controls time in all sorts of weird ways. Our friends must’ve found out how to get it working the way we needed it to and froze time; all part’a the plan, you know? We knew we couldn’t beat those guys with how they ambushed us, so they trusted us to escape before time got frozen so we could get help.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That is quite the artifact to be stored below a school; Luna Nova or not….” Asgall began his search again through the tombs, deciding to climb up the bookcase with just his claws and feet. While he was a hulking vampire, he was surprisingly nimble and graceful in how he ascended the shelves. From above, he called down his next question. “And so you met Maxwell soon after, I presume?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That they did.” Maxwell confirmed, stroking his beard idly. “I met ‘em in Porthcurno to the south; the coast just by Luna Isle. They had just helped repel one of the attacks the Bathorys are sending out to cause chaos. I saw them in the town square where a riot was breaking out. Most of the townspeople were convinced that Amanda and Constanze here were the cause of the massacre. They proved them wrong and managed to rally them to a defence, just like Balefire criers of olde!” Maxwell could no longer contain his smile in how he spoke about Amanda and Constanze, and that was only the surface level of what had him chomping at the bit. If their claims about the sanctum were true, then perhaps the order wouldn’t have to die that slow, quiet death that Asgall described. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmmmm….” A growling rumble from Asgal, one borne of concentration as he scanned row after row of books in search of the right volume, and one also borne of scrutiny for Maxwell’s claim. He didn’t doubt his friend; quite the opposite. What he doubted was that they were truly like </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Balefire criers of olde!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> As Maxwell put it. He knew how his friend had a penchant for poetics and romanticism. “Amanda and Constanze. That is what you are known by?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m Amanda. Amanda O’Neill.” She confirmed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Constanze.” She muttered, knowing now that Asgal could hear them at just about any volume if they were close. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>If </span>
  </em>
  <span>what you have claimed today is </span>
  <em>
    <span>true</span>
  </em>
  <span>, then I am pleased to meet you.” Asgall paused to snag two tomes and tuck them under his right arm before leaping off of the bookshelf to one of the nearby pillars, and then from the pillar down to the ground with animalistic movements, but controlled grace and speed. He landed softly, despite his size, in the open space behind the trio, rose a moment later, and set aside the books on a nearby table. “If you can slay not only vampires, but creatures of all kinds, then you are certainly more than just hapless students sent to get help.” Asgall turned about face to size both of them up with his hauntingly deep black eyes. A healthy dose of skepticism marked his expression.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda tried not to make direct eye contact with him; it gave her the shivvers. “I’m not really a student. Not anymore at least. It’s a long story….” Then she noticed a little cobweb in her hair and swatted it away, her hair “boinging” back into position. “But uh…!” She started while ridding her hair of any more nasty threads. “I mostly go around as a witch for hire. I help people understand all of the new and weird magical stuff going on and solve their problems. Sometimes it’s nice and peaceful, and sometimes you gotta get down and dirty with a pissed off gryphon.” After she was certain that her hair was in perfect order, she sighed quietly and refocused on her train of thought. “It don’t pay much, but it’s honest work, and I was never in it for the money.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you, Constanze?” Asgall shifted his gaze over to the smaller witch who more bravely met his gaze, though she felt quite unsettled by it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Speaking was already difficult for Constanze. She had done well to push past her selective mutism these past few days, but less out of desire, and more out of need; at least outside of talking to Amanda and her other friends. The piercing stare that Asgall had, regardless of context, didn’t help her anxiety. “I… build… things.” She murmured. “Engineer. Witch. Handy with tools.” When Asgall raised an eyebrow and craned in, Constanze shifted her eyes downward and brought her notepad up. After fetching a pen from her pack, she started writing. “It’s hard for me to talk to people. Sorry.” She presented the message to Asgall who looked at it strangely, but seemed to understand after a moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do as you must.” He replied. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze took a breath or two before putting on a more stern face and focusing on the paper before her rather than the eyes upon her. “I use magic and engineering to make gadgets. I fixed up Amanda’s bike to make it run on magical energy. Just an example.” Then she looked to Maxwell who could see what she was writing before she showed it to Asgall. Constanze saw the urging expression he had; he wanted Constanze to claim herself as a witch-smith, and to a degree, Constanze wanted to do that too. If only she knew exactly what a witch-smith was supposed to look like or do. Sure she worked with mundane and magical materials so that she could blend them together, but was that really witch smithing, or just a marriage between “science” and “magic?” She would acquiesce however, if only to maybe learn more about the witch-smiths of olde. “Maxwell says I’m a witch-smith.” She wasn’t about to lie to a man with teeth longer than her hands, no matter how reformed and gentle he actually was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall wrinkled his nose. These two witches were certainly full of surprises, and he was becoming more impressed with every aspect of them that was revealed, assuming it could be backed up with evidence. “You’ve seen her craft with your own eyes?’ He addressed Maxwell who nodded again and only smiled wider now. That wasn’t enough for Asgall though. “Are you aware how rare witch-smiths are in these times, Constanze?” She brought her eyes up to meet his for the moment, pushing past the initial fear it inspired in her. “During the golden ages, they weren’t exactly common, to give some perspective…. Vaal was very selective in who she taught, and the Dwarves are and always have been distrusting of outsiders when it came to teaching their craft. So tell me, who trained you in the ways of magic and machine?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It took Constanze a bit of time to write it out, worried that her skill might be dismissed for not being part of some greater “pedigree” of witches; little did she know. “No one. I’m self taught. My dad taught me how to work a smith and I learned on my own how to assemble complex machines: Computers, engines, etc. My aunt and uncle helped me learn magic until I went to Luna Nova. Me and Amanda are graduate age.” As Asgall started to read, only to reel his head back in dismissive disbelief, Constanze decided to add a bit more to help explain things. “My family owns—” She crossed out the “s” on “owns,” grunting in annoyance. “Owned a forge. My father ran it. His father wanted him to learn magic and run the forge. I never got told the specifics, but he was probably trying to teach him how to magically smith things. That’s what my Uncle told me. I also had some help from a witch named Croix. Don’t know if she’s a witch-smith, but she’s better at making complex magical machinery.” Upon re-presenting the written paragraph, Asgall leaned in to read some of the tinier words that had gotten smushed down into the corner of the page; Constanze had filled up the rest of the space. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thirty seconds went by in general silence. Asgall hummed in conclusion before he pulled his head back and spoke curiously. “I know of your personal name, but what of your familial name?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze gripped the notepad a little tighter. She felt that she shouldn’t be so apprehensive about giving such information out, but it hurt all the same. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Can’t go a day without them being brought up.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She bit the inside of her cheek and corralled whatever frustrations she had building in her head. It was better if she just got it over with. Putting it to paper wouldn’t feel right though, so instead she spoke up. “Constanze Amalie Von Braunschbank-Albrechtsberger.” She annunciated every piece of it as plainly as possible and then forced her mind to think about something else. Amanda was at least kind and perceptive enough to put reach out and gently lay a hand on Constanze’s shoulder; that helped ease her tension. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Von Braunchsbank-Albrechtsberger….” Asgall scratched at one of the many perpetually scabbing scars on his neck and clicked his jaw once. “It is a familiar name…. Germanic, correct?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze initially felt a wave of dread wash over her. Her family name shouldn’t be familiar, but then again, plenty of families may have held the surname Albrechtsberger, which was her mother’s side of the family. Even if it was her father’s side, where the witch-smithing practice seemed to originate from, who was to say that another family didn’t happen to be on his mind? “Y-Yes. German.” Her words went inward then. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“He’s old enough to have known the Nine Olde Witches. He’s misremembering. It’s simple.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Why did she feel such a sudden need to explain this away? Well, she didn’t know herself, and figuring that out wasn’t easy when amidst conversation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Two families then. I will look into our records pertaining to dealings in that region.” Asgall slowly turned about as he spoke to mark down the name Constanze had given. “I will know by sundown, if not sooner, whether or not that name belongs to a family we knew to be witch-smiths.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna be able to find that kinda detail in a place as big as this?” Amanda gestured to the scale of the place, and she was certain just by how important it seemed to be, that the bookshelves here did not hold a comprehensive collection of their texts. After all, the older a place was, the more books there were; it’s a rule Amanda went by after spelunking into more ruins than most witches could shake a wand at. “In less than day?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When you have all of the time in the world, you find that much of it is best spent organizing what you have.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But… why? You have all the time to find what you need in whatever mess you have….” The logic worked both ways in Amanda’s eyes, and it was an excuse to not clean something as “boring” as a library. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“To save more of my theoretically infinite time later, when I actually need to look for something in this ‘mess.’” Asgall glanced backward and… forced? No, he was smiling genuinely, but the way his mouth was constructed just made it so very, very creepy looking. “Such as now.” Needless to say, he wasn’t the best at parties. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda and Constanze boh got the heebie-jeebies from the toothy smile that Asgall was kind enough to dismiss once he saw their response. With a roll of his eyes, he went back to minding the tomes he’d taken down in relation to notable vampires while Maxwell made a comment. “You’ll get used to ‘em. After you’ve woken up a few times only to see him patiently standing over your bed, you’ll feel all the fear you could have for him get scared right from your gut.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze stared at Maxwell blankly. “Wow. That… was the least comforting thing I’ve heard in my entire life.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, um, gonna have to ask you not to do that.” Amanda was one hundred percent certain that if it happened, she would either have a heart attack, try and shoot him with whatever spell came to her tongue first, or both. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Feh…. If my visage frightens you so much, then I fear you may not have the fortitude to face the Bathorys.” Asgall started to flip through the first of many books he’d gathered, slowly, but with how his eyes moved, it was clear that his reading speed was impeccable; not one detail on any page was missed. “To wage a war against any brood of vampires is to sign your own death warrant in advance if you are not prepared in mind and body. To do so against the Bathorys, when they are being aided by a clearly powerful and resourceful coven of witches…. Are you both prepared to die?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The grim frankness that he leveled the questions with was a sucker-punch for both Amanda and Constanze. They had tried to push past all of their innate, natural fears with hope, love, and bravado in the case of Amanda, while Constanze allowed her anger and hate to justify any cost that involved the loss of life or limb, for weal or woe. It took their fears being spoken aloud for them to truly confront it, and no matter what answer they gave, Amanda and Constanze both knew that they were likely lying in some respect. They couldn’t just say </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re right, we’re in way over our heads,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>because </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> they cared about was riding on this! Even if it wasn’t; even if Constanze had no motive to gain vengeance, even if they had never gone to Luna Nova, the prospect of over a thousand lives being snuffed out by some malicious force of vampires urged them to take action. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ve faked it ‘till I’ve made it all the way until now,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda thought to herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What the hell am I gonna let stop me after all of that? It’s always been do or fucking die!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Again, she couldn’t act as though this was true bravery, for she knew that most of what she was telling herself was foolheartedly brave, but in the end, when all was said and done and the ashes of the battle were left to be cast into the wind, would it matter? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze was of a similar mind, but her reasoning was perhaps more depressing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“If they die, I have nothing to live for.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She wouldn’t say it, but if Amanda, Sucy, all of Luna Nova suddenly vanished, Constanze knew that her depression and mental state would deteriorate to the point of oblivion. She would force herself not to think of how she would do it; thoughts like that would only distract them from the work that needed to be done. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“No time to be afraid. No room for errors. Have to stay strong. Have to kill them. All of them.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>And so her thoughts spiraled again into the macabre, leaving her mouth silent, and her face stricken and scrunched up. Her knuckles cracked from how hard she gripped a fist. A moment later she exhaled. “Second.” She excused herself briefly, walking off to get some space from the others. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda knew to just let Constanze have her moment. “Who dares wins.” She confidently proclaimed, looking to take eyes off of her sister as she put her arms across her chest. “And I’ve never stopped daring life to come at me with it’s worst, and last I checked, you Balefire goons have a saying, right?” Asgall didn’t bother to turn around, but Maxwell seemed pleased enough by Amanda’s remembrance of the oath, so much so that he mouthed the words as she spoke them. “All that a person needs to do to beat evil is to stand up and fight right? Well I’m here, and so is Constanze, we’re both standing up to the Bathorys, and we’re sure as hell ready to fight.” It wasn’t an exact recreation of the saying, but Maxwell was happy nonetheless.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall didn’t speak at first, allowing only the sounds of Constanze’s controlled breathing and the page-flipping of his books to fill the area. Eventually, he responded, with the same disinterest in her words that came with the prior comment. “The words of long dead men and women, no matter how great they are, are meaningless without knowing what it takes to make the ideals conveyed in those words a reality. You have the will to </span>
  <em>
    <span>resist</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but do you have the will to </span>
  <em>
    <span>persist</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Asgall, please, just hear them out.” Maxwell stepped toward his friend, now beside the olde vampire. “We’re in no place to turn them away…. We have to help them somehow.” He tried to keep a level tone, but he was clearly pleading. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do not recall turning them away. I recall reminding mortals of their mortality. So often have I seen the young go off to die, guided by the fire in their hearts rather than by the reason of their minds.” Asgall paused to slowly turn his head toward Maxwell. “You were nearly among those counted dead; I know you have not forgotten those days.” He went back to his page flipping again only to suddenly stop and jab a pointer finger toward a particular passage. “Here. I have found the one you spoke of.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By then, Constanze had cooled down enough to make sense of what she was hearing. While Amanda more casually strode over, Constanze pushed past Maxwell and Asgall to get a look at the text; Maxwell stumbled back while Asgall merely moved himself upon feeling the intended shove. Amanda poked her head in from the side to try and get a look in the meantime. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Surely enough, an artist's rendition of Lord Nikolai Zrinski marked the page in ink. His proportions were a bit off when it came to the size of his head, the shape of his nose, the positioning of his cape, but it was otherwise a spitting image. Constanze was barely able to contain her anger as she spoke. “That’s him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Told you he was fuckin’ ugly.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’ll look worse.” Constanze said through partly grit teeth, implying the fact would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>“After I’m done with him.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahh… yes.” Maxwell had nearly forgotten to mention, though he wasn’t sure if it was his place to: “Constanze had family who lived in Ludinghal….” When Constanze gave no verbal or non-verbal signal for Maxwell to be silent on the matter, he continued. “She told me she saw him in some sort of recording of the event. And based on more evidence found by one of their friend’s who was lucky enough to escape the trap, the Bathorys have been far busier than we’d like.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall listened intently, reading along with Constanze and Amanda in order to get a better idea about this Nikolai character: The text described him as a veritably brutal noble, one with a particularly militaristic habit. The passage, having been written by Balefire hunters as a group, providing the information from sources that included rival or nearby noble lords, townspeople, and even captured or defecting members of the Bathory court, described his actions in detail. He was quick to kill any who failed him, terribly impatient, and suspected of becoming a vampire about one year after Elizabeth Bathory herself was turned. He was a somewhat accomplished general, though he was woefully easy to antagonize into a losing position, having abandoned no less than three forts after being insulted so viciously by his foes, who included warring lords and witch covens alike, that he ordered every last of his soldiers to leave the fort to attack the defenders for such a slight. This dereliction of tactics caused him to lose all three of those battles, though he escaped in every instance. On the other hand, his dueling prowess was something to be feared, exemplified most by the fact that during each of the three failed battles in where he would abandon his fort or position to charge his enemy, he was always successful in beheading or otherwise fatally wounding the opposing lord or would-be commander. A quote from a former manservant to Nikolai himself ended the passage perfectly:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If there was one word that could describe him in his entirety, it would be this: Spite.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After he’d given the passage a once over, Asgall responded to Maxwell’s explanation, but directed his words toward Constanze. “Vengeance is a powerful tool. However, it is easily wielded improperly.” Something about how he said that made it seem like he spoke from experience. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll handle it.” Constanze didn’t need to be reminded. She’d been getting enough stress headaches over her vengeful thoughts as is. “Just help us. We have a friend who’s gathering witches. We came here for weapons. Tools. Artifacts. Something to have an edge. We need them now.” Her speaking was rushed now; she wanted to get down to business. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hoh? Are you making demands of me?” Asgall rolled his neck. It sounded with a sickening </span>
  <em>
    <span>crack</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “The Balefire gives succor, but it is not a charity. While your cause is just, I will not arm a blind woman with a blade she does not know how to wield.” Clearly he was speaking metaphorically. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze fumed and grunted out a growl of anger while Amanda spoke on both of their behalfs. “We told you we’ve taken out vampires already, and a bunch of other kinds of monsters; what else do you want?” She let her arms slap against her sides; Amanda was at her wits end, and Constanze was right there with her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>told</span>
  </em>
  <span> me plenty of things, some of which you have proven, and others you are yet to prove. Your skill is chief among the latter. Maxwell may be charitable in his praise, but I am not so easily impressed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Asgall, please.” Maxwell began, doing his best to simplify things. “Is my word not enough? If it isn’t, then the fact that Vaal and Jehanne chose them should be!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall hissed idly in annoyance. “There you go with your tall tales again. My position would not change if their very spirits appeared before me and demanded I yield our armorys’ holdings over to them. I knew them, Maxwell: Neither believed in ‘chosen’ men.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“B-B-But Amanda; she came upon a blue flame, and the voice of Jehanne—” A palm shoved in Maxwell’s face silenced him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> can make a magical flame, Maxwell.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Told you!” Amanda quipped, leaving Maxwell looking between Asgall and Amanda haphazardly. Eventually he resigned himself to a facepalm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall was at least certain, based on that response, that Amanda wasn’t out to swindle them with lies. “Perhaps you did come upon an arcane flame, and perhaps a voice did speak to you, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe</span>
  </em>
  <span>, just </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe</span>
  </em>
  <span> it was the spectre of Jehanne that addressed you…. But it is all the more likely that it was nothing more than an elaborate ruse. Even if it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> true, Jehanne, and Vaal especially, would haunt me until the world’s end were I to merely </span>
  <em>
    <span>give</span>
  </em>
  <span> you any of our relics.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze was quick to write out a response. “We’ll do anything. Get to the point.” Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything, but she hoped Asgall wasn’t so literal with his interpretation of that word as he was with other turns of phrase. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall sized the two witches up fully, examining the scrapes and bruises they had about their faces and neck. He was certain they’d been through a rough week, which at least credited them with being in the line of fire, but he needed more. With his arms crossed about his chest, he spoke. “I would see you tested. There will be three trials—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda rolled her eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s always three fucking trials.”</span>
  </em>
  <span>  She thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In which I shall determine your abilities. If you succeed, then I will gladly arm you with some of our most powerful artifacts. If you fail, then I can only offer you the simplest of tools….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can we afford to be so conservative at a time like this?!” Maxwell was getting frustrated now. There had to be a more expedient way! “With every day, the Bathorys get another chance at raising hell across the isles, and with France so close, there's no doubt that they’ve sent agents southward as well! Think Asgall: You know how vampiric nobles work their ways…. They’ll spread their influence like wildfire in a society like this; no one knows how to handle vampires anymore, let alone spot one!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And what would happen were these two simply allowed to take as they pleased? What of the witches they would arm? What if they were not as capable as they seem?” Maxwell fell quiet while Asgall jabbed a pointed claw in his direction. “We would be handing the Bathorys some of the finest weapons in the world; weapons we fought and died for so that we could keep them hidden from the mundane world, from the nefarious and greedy…. They were </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> deployed without that consideration in mind, regardless of the foe….” Asgall forced himself to a calm then, taking measured breaths before opening his eyes once more and settling them on Amanda and Constanze. “And while these are desperate times indeed, we must be cautious. This is no doomsday. There is still time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Time the Bathorys will use to cause unknowable damage!” Maxwell pleaded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And we are in no position to simply stop them! I do not argue with you out of stubbornness. I do so because we have to be realistic! Were it so easy to bring them low, I am certain that we would have done so by now….” Asgall’s face then contorted into a grim and perhaps wrathful expression. “Let the Bathory's reign of terror awaken the mundane world. We will do all we can to stop them, but in the meantime, it will serve as a sign: The powers that be cannot save them, and they never could. Not from true threats; mundane or magical.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oi! I ain’t in the business of letting innocent people die to prove a point!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall bristled, literally; the spiny hairs on the back of his head flared up. “I am not </span>
  <em>
    <span>letting</span>
  </em>
  <span> them die. I am facing reality. The four of us, and even the order back when it was strong and alive, could not be everywhere at once. We will do all we can, and then we shall fight even harder, but at the end of the day, all who have came before you have had to reconcile not just with their own mortality, but the fleeting nature of all that is around them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Easy to say when you’re immortal.” Constanze chided. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I may have forgotten what it means to be mortal, but I have loved and I have lost for as long as I have lived!” Asgall forced himself to keep his frustration in check, lowering his volume. “We can weep for the dead when the Bathorys have joined them…. But first we must be confident that we are capable of defeating them.” Once again, he looked to Amanda and Constanze. “Tell me: If you were to appear within Elizabeth’s court room, no doubt filled with vampiric guards and mortal servants, all willing to fight and die for her to the last man, do you two think you could survive? Escape? Prevail even?” A pause came as he approached, drawing near them both. “What if I were to be generous: You assemble this throng of witches and assail their ship with equal numbers. Still, you find yourselves in Elizabeth’s court room, face to face with the matriarch herself, and you must do battle…. What of Nikolai? What of her other children? Will you be able to best them? And if not, how do you hope to slay her?” Closer and closer; Amanda and Constanze both began to backpedal as his size grew by a few inches amidst his tirade. “If you are foolish enough to believe her a weak opponent because she is a pampered monarch, then you are woefully misguided…. The Balefire had only bested her by way of ambush: One strike that would have ended her life. Had we given her any more time, had she the space to face our hunters on ‘fair’ terms, she would have likely slain them.” Five final footfalls marked the end of his approach as Asgall made his point clear. “And who are you? Two young witches… brave, yes, but your struggle will be futile if it is not fought carefully…. Even if you have the skill to wield the weapons at our disposal, do you really think that you are prepared?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Where frustration and hints of anger had taken over Amanda and Constanzes’ faces, uncertainty and anxiety had now taken root. They weren’t trained mages, soldiers, warriors; nothing of the sort. They were desperate witches, heroic perhaps, but desperate nonetheless. They had fared well enough against some of their foes, but no encounter they got in was one they escaped without injury, no matter how minor. If they wanted to take on these impossible odds head on, then not only would they need allies, but they would need to sharpen their skills. These trials, while a roadblock, might just reveal how they needed to improve, and clearly, Asgall wasn’t intent on being talked down from his position.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both of the witches were left to think on those facts and each came to similar realizations after a few moments. Constanze relented first. “As long as you’ll help us.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll do your trials, but they better not be bullshit.” Amanda added. “If they’re some sort of test to make sure we’re ready, then I don’t wanna waste our time.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You will be tested as all hunters and smiths of the order were before you: I shall tell you of your tasks after the sun sets.” Asgall turned himself back around to gather up the books he’d taken earlier. There was more studying to be done, about their foes and about Constanze’s heritage. “Maxwell.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” Maxwell seemed more hopeful now after he had heard how the sisters would be tested. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“See to it that they’re shown around the hall. Everything we have, save for the relics they are vying for, are free for them to use….” With a light grunt of effort, he lifted up the pile of books in both hands and slowly started away from the group, off to find a quieter place to study. “Do not squander your time! And be sure to choose what relics you are fighting for by sunset! A wise hunter always comes prepared for what she hunts!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course!” Maxwell’s words ended abruptly as he looked to Amanda and Constanze, unsure of where to begin. “W-Well… shall we?” </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Balefire of Caledonia was something to behold. Maxwell took to giving Amanda and Constanze a tour of the place with the kind of delight any enthusiastic historian might. They’d been down every hallway that wasn’t blocked off due to cave in, and had a few interesting conversations throughout those few hours:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The many bedrooms that made up the barracks were much like the ones Amanda and Constanze had seen down in the sanctum. They were perfunctory, small, but not cramped. Maxwell had explained that the Balefires served as a home for many, and so the order halls housed them, providing every need possible. A surplus of rooms was always present, for when disaster struck, the order was quick to give refuge to the stranded and homeless, or those on the run from particularly dangerous forces. Some of the rooms that had been “recently” used still had a few personal effects left behind such as paintings or framed photographs depicting witches, their families, friends, pets, or in some cases, victoriously posed groups of fellow hunters, usually standing over their quarry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell had taken the time to go over the organizational structure of the order; how its members operated, and how they related to one another. Amanda and Constanze listened intently while he explained: “Every order hall housed maybe… Four hundred or so members at a time. It sounds small, but keep in mind that these weren’t our only bases. We called the smaller sanctums ‘torches’ or ‘candles,’ depending on how large and far away they were from the mother Balefire. Every one of those affiliated candles and torches coordinated out of and around the Balefire closest to them, so per region, we’d be several thousand strong, or more. That doesn’t even count the villages and hedge-witches who worked with us…. As for the internal structure, it was rather simple. All members were equal in rank, save the Huntmasters and Forgemasters. Those ranks were given to distinguished members, and only one active Huntmaster and Forgemaster could operate at a time per Balefire. Anyone who had been trialed and deemed worthy of the position be given the rank, but it was either voted on and deliberated communally, decided based on the particular needs of the order at the time, or one that was fought over through ritual combat; no one died of course, I mean, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>often</span>
  </em>
  <span>…. It happened maybe once or twice.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He cleared his throat. “That’s just with the Huntmasters though. The Forgemasters fought over craftsmanship rather than skill with blade or spell. Usually the contests for either position were done out of sport, but on occasion there were particularly selfish and prideful witches who didn’t want to yield their position and who didn’t work to better themselves in the face of failure and defeat. The only ranks to exist above that were the Firekeepers, who acted as auguries and guardians. They were like Asgall, in a sense, though he’s a special case, as you might expect.” A gentle chuckle broke up the explanation. “They tended to the Balefires themselves, making sure they were healthy and growing. None but they understood how the fires could be ‘unhealthy’ or otherwise knew why they faded or grew, but they had been with the order since Vaal and Jehanne had made their pact together, so no one questioned them. They’ve all but faded away now, though, the Balefire was a world spanning coven; maybe there’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> still out there.” He could only hope. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Soon after, they came upon his old room at one point and spent a good while reminiscing. Upon the wall above his bed were two black and white framed images, both from his early days in the order. “Ahhh… these were dark days, but we found the silver linings in them. It was… the little victories that kept us going.” He was sat upon the old bed frame, leaning on his staff for support as his eyes were fixated on the frames.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Which one’s you?” Constanze stood by the simple dresser just beside Maxwell. She was glad to take her mind off of the more pressing matters to learn more about the Balefire, at least for now. She had been blindsided by the comments Asgall made about recognizing her family name, and truly felt like she was letting it get to her far too much, so a distraction like this was welcome indeed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell raised a finger toward the left most image first. “That’s me on my first real mission with the order. It was a real trial by fire.” The figure he pointed to was a smiling, dirty, baby faced young soldier in ripped fatigues. The pot-and-pan style helmet on his head, the kind worn by British soldiers during the first world war, obscured his already receding hairline. Surprisingly, he was standing over a ruined french tank that had been covered in poorly drawn and hastily crafted magical runes and symbols. Another derelict war-machine, one with an Austrian-Hungary flag, bore similar, but ultimately different markers. The tanks themselves were befitting the style and shape of the time, but had clearly been more than just treaded boxes. “My friends there, Finnigan, and James, they’d saved me from an early grave during a long, drawn out battle near the River Rhine. I’d been through so much hell already that I thought I’d seen it all….” His lips curled inward in hesitation. “I was a witch before all of this, but I was a simple boy…. I didn’t think anyone would be capable of making weapons that were so… horrific.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jesus….” Amanda was leaned up by the door, looking on at the first image with resigned sympathy. She couldn’t imagine the kind of horrors that came with war, by modern or early modern standards. Then she realized </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> how old that made Maxwell out to be. “Wait a second, you fought in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>first</span>
  </em>
  <span> world war?” If he had fought in the second, he would still be well over a “natural” age. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Witches live a long while when they take care of themselves.” Maxwell smiled forcibly, trying not to dwell too much on the traumatic memories of his time during both world wars. Still, he felt he should explain more about the photos. “I was a young and nationally inspired fool. I thought I’d be going off to do good work to protect others. What I found wasn’t the glorious battlefield the recruiters and folks in parliament preached about: It was carnage, and the leaders of both sides were willing to do anything to gain the edge on one another.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze grimaced. “Didn’t know what they were dealing with. Didn’t care. They weren’t the ones fighting.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye, you’ve the right of it.” Maxwell sighed. “The Balefire did what it could, during the first and second wars. We stopped atrocities where we found them, whether they were mundane or arcane in origin…. Experimental weapons, freeing rounded up witches and persecuted folks, stopping raids on our holds and the dwellings of other covens, getting what few Fae remained in the wilds of the world to safety, convincing soldiers to go home and drop this pointless war…. We did all we could, but it broke us.” His eyes fell to the second picture then, one showing him garbed in clothes similar to the ones he wore now. They were much less ragged back then, and while he was still a bit baby faced, he had developed bags under his eyes that remained to this day. The beginnings of his now full beard were showing too. His younger self was standing with twenty other members of the order, out in front of the marker that he had summoned up to dispel the illusion. Asgall was there too, towering above his comrades in the back, looking no less monstrous than he did now. “Only five of us came home by the end of the second world war…. They split off from the order, entrusting me to hold down the fort, with Asgall of course.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where’d they run off to?” Amanda hesitantly asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Home. Their familial ones, I mean…. At least, that’s what they said. None of us fared very well, and we were all at our breaking points…. We made oaths, and we swore to fight for the Balefire, but even Jehanne knew when to quit; you can only take so much punishment before you need rest and heal.” Maxwell’s gaze fell to his lap and he stared at nothing in particular, looking blank. “That break turned into a dissolution of the order. Our numbers were small, and growing smaller. Fatigue from the fighting was setting in, mentally and physically, and magic was still fading from the world. Really, the only monsters left to fight were the humans who ruled. Many fought on and died trying to tear down the modern tyrants, but it was nothing but suicide…. They couldn’t have done much on their own, but they didn’t want to go quietly into that good night…. I can’t condemn ‘em.” He remembered their names, but he never saw them again. Maybe one day they could reunite. For now though, he felt he’d spent enough time dwelling on the past. “Shall we keep going?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure, sure. Let’s walk and talk.” Amanda thumbed toward the door as Maxwell stood up and headed for it with Constanze in tow. “If you’ve got nothin’ else to say about that, I’m curious, why’d you stay behind?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I needed a purpose, and I needed time to heal. I focused on the land and my learning. I learned myself, magically and emotionally….” Maxwell chuckled then. “And, not for nothing, but as much as Asgall comes off as a stick in the mud, he’s not always a bore; it’s just when things get serious that he dries up like a prune in summer.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you think the order would ever come back?” Constanze asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hoped and prayed all I could…. I’m still hopin’ and praying even, but I’m not here to make demands of you. You’ve got your own responsibilities and lives to carry on with, and you’ve heard my case already.” The clacking of his staff against the stone echoed down the barracks’ halls as they went along. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda put her hands in her jacket and hummed thoughtfully. Constanze gave her a curious look and tilted her head, as if to silently ask: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What’re you thinking about?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda glanced to Constanze before shaking her head in the negative and looking off at various things they passed by while idly contemplating. She was lying, of course, but she didn’t feel it was important enough to bring up yet; she wanted to work it out more. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Magic weapons or not, at least he was being honest about helping us.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Now Amanda just felt bad for making jokes implying that he might be a woodland cannibal. It was all harmless jest of course, but even so, she had taken Constanze’s own contemplations about joining the order to heart. Amanda herself wasn’t going by the same logic of course, but with how similar her line of work already was, she couldn’t just write this off for good. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Lotte even warned us about all the stuff those freaks are probably meddling in…. There’s gonna be tons of rogue vampires out there who’ll need staking.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda could certainly </span>
  <em>
    <span>try</span>
  </em>
  <span> and go solve those problems herself, but when they were likely high-profile types, she’d need back up; a real team to get behind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda left that train of thought behind for a time as they pressed on to different parts of the hall, all while Maxwell span the occasional yarn about particularly thrilling hunts or curious individuals he’d come to know in his life:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next station of note that they arrived in was contained in a singular, spacious room, pillared similarly to the grand hall they’d entered into. It was square shaped though, and much smaller by comparison. It was a room marked by a large, silver globe that was see through where the oceans would be, suspended in the air between two large teal crystals; one rooted in the ceiling, and the other in the ground, held by more silverwork that kept them centered and bolted down. The rest of the space was filled with more tomes, room to study, much like the grand hall, but their contents were much more heavily focused on the arcane practices. Special and esoteric implements filled the table, though crystal balls and diamonds were the most recognizable of them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where are we now?” Constanze might be able to hazard a guess, but she could clearly see that Maxwell was enjoying himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was a study of sorts, but more so, it was where our members could reach out through the Balefires power and speak to any other Balefire, so long as it was well kept.” Maxwell gestured for them to walk about as they please while he waited by the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda looked up and around, taking in the space before her eyes settled on the silver, slowly rotating globe. Her eyes honed in on small etchings on its surface as she approached. She ran her hand along it gently. “You said the order was worldwide, right?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye. We only had two holds in the Americas, before they were known as such…. The history around it is a bit foggy, but I believe that globe there had the Balefires in what we know today as Panama and somewhere in the southern Andes.” Surely enough, Amanda was able to round the globe and find the carvings of a burning brazier, the symbol of the Balefires themselves, around where Maxwell described. She found similar carvings marked all around Africa, Europe, and Asia, though none appeared in Australia, the northern portion of the Americas, greenland, or the north eastern portions of Russia. Upon closer inspection, she could see symbols for candles and torches, showing the locations of smaller outposts, whose locations were recorded at least. “Gods know how many still remain unsacked, let alone manned.” Maxwell hoped it was more than what he expected, but taking on a task such as reclaiming holds was one of pure fantasy at this point; perhaps it wouldn’t be that way forever. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While Constanze examined some of the more interesting looking tools, Amanda continued her questioning. “So what gives? How’d that all fall apart? You talked about how the world wars screwed you over at the end, but you said the order was already sufferin’ by the time that happened; seems more like the last nail in the coffin, not the first.” She glanced backward while allowing her hand to glide along the slowly spinning, smooth surface. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s… oh it’s beyond me, to tell you the truth.” Maxwell shook his head, his eyes downcast and his arms at his sides. “All I can say for certain is that it started sometime during the fifth century. From then on to the ninth century was a period known by some sort of conflict…. At least the name given makes it sound like one.” Idly, he raised a hand to scratch his bearded chin, falling quiet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda waited expectantly until she pushed off of the dome and leaned in. “Weeeell? What’s the name?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell snapped his head back up to look at Amanda. “O-Oh! Yes, right.” He cleared his throat and focused himself on the conversation, shooing away the reminiscent and romantic memories, real and imagined, that came to his mind whenever he walked about these hallowed halls. “It was during this period that something called The Arcturian Schism occurred. That time was aptly named the Arcturian period of magic because of that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze was inspecting what she presumed to be some overly complex microscope which bent and twisted in a spiral fashion, utilizing the reflective powers of honing crystals, magical ores that were magnetically and arcanely bound, to look through one end, and see out of the other, allowing for extreme close ups. She stopped when the word “Arcturian” hit her ears. “Arcturian? What does that mean?” It sounded familiar, but her mind had been too scatterbrained to recall the connection. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Arcturian….” Amanda had it on the tip of her tongue when Maxwell began to speak. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If… my… memory serves, Arcturian refers to… a star I believe? I forget which constellation it belongs to, but the prime star was named—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Arcturus!” Amanda snapped her fingers together upon realizing it, spurring Constanze to remember as well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like the forest. The cursed one.” She set aside the magical microscope as intrigued surprise washed over her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell processed their words as he shuffled forward. “That would make sense…. I hadn’t thought to connect the two things together; I assumed The Forest of Arcturus was named as such for a different reason.” He made for some of the nearby bookshelves. “I could have sworn we had a few tomes on constellations…. We were an order of witches for Nine’s sake, there must be </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> around here!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda and Constanze gave each other a look and a nod before they spread out to opposite sides of the library away from Maxwell; they had some books to find. They tore apart the organized library in a flurry, to Maxwell’s initial horror until he resigned himself to dealing with it “later,” whenever that would be. The books and scrolls weren’t damaged, per say, but they were certainly being left in big piles on the desks, becoming all jumbled and forgotten about once they’d proven to be useless to their immediate inquiry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze thought to herself as they went about their search: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Keeps coming back to them.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She thought of The Nine Olde Witches; of Arcturus. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Yggdrasil is there, the Grand Triskelion was there. The Nine had to know.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze could see the threads dangling before her, but she couldn’t connect them. So much was left unsaid, unknown, forgotten, buried. She tossed aside yet another unrelated book with a sigh, only to realize they’d been at this for only fifteen minutes or so, and had made quite a mess of the place. She turned about face to see if Amanda or Maxwell was having any luck, but she found herself standing at stomach height in front of Asgall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall started speaking as she began turning. “Is there any reason you three are undoing months long efforts of organizing and—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“GAH!” Constanze yelped as she tripped backward into the bookshelf. With what grace she had, she was able to catch all three of the falling books in her hands, leaving her with awkwardly clenched teeth and a wide eyed expression. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall looked beyond tired in the wake of this. “.... How graceful.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmmm!?” Maxwell cocked his head around only to start chuckling a bit nervously. “I-I warned you! He does that sometimes….” With a grunt of effort, he set aside the pile of books he had found himself carrying before continuing. “We were trying to figure out the connection, if this is any, between Arcturus and the Arcturian Schism…. We just happened to stumble onto the topic.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Schism? Feh….” Asgall hissed and made a gurgling noise in his large maw that sounded like someone was preparing to spit in disgust. “Nothing good came from those days. It was a time of true chaos among the magical and the mundane…. Had it not occurred, maybe we would not even differentiate between the two things.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You were there for it, yeah?” Amanda asked while leaping down from the ladder she’d climbed up. With a squat landing and an echo of her boots against the stone, she grunted back to her feet. “Maybe you could clue us in?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall continued to hiss and shook his head. “Not only would that take </span>
  <em>
    <span>literal days</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but even I am unsure of </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> what set that era in motion. A wise man once said that in some years, only a day passes, and during some days, years go by. The Arcturian Schism was… it was day after day of development. Conflicts began and ended over the course of weeks. Orders, not just the Balefire, but the Antiquarians, the Matriarchs Mortuary, the Faesworn, and so on; all of them struggled with internal strife throughout the period. No one was safe from the chaos….” A tired groan marked his desire to end this discussion before it began. “I am certain I have only raised more questions than I have revealed answers. There is a reason I try not to think of those days.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, well, I was just going through the hall and telling Amanda and Constanze here about….” And so Maxwell began. He was chatting up idly with Asgall and Amanda about what they’d been up to, leaving Constanze alone, momentarily, with her thoughts:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>“Convenient.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She brought her left hand to her chin while her right arm was wrapped around her stomach. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s all too convenient.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Now Arcturus was tied up in the mysterious mess surrounding the sanctum and the crimson plant, in Constanze’s mind at least. It was beyond her, either because she lacked too much information, or because she was too occupied thinking about </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything else</span>
  </em>
  <span> that was going on at the time, which was a lot. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Note to self: Need to get Lotte on the case. Figuring this out is priority level</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall’s speaking suddenly entered the forefront of her mind, popping her proverbial thought bubble. “—Well and good, but I must speak with Constanze now. It is for a private matter.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Private matter?” Amanda blinked before leering with slight suspicion. “Mind if I tag along?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall returned it with an incredulous stare. “What about the word ‘private’ did you not understand?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda scoffed and crossed her arms. “Well we’re a team. If she’s in on something, I’m in on it too. Like, come on, what could you have to tell her that you couldn’t tell me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is a matter of family. You have no place in this.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze’s eyes widened. Why did her hands start trembling? Why did her heart rate suddenly double? Why was she feeling such intense and sudden fear? “Family?” She knew all too well why. She couldn’t even think about the issue of Amanda being her bonded sister. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“On the con-fucking-trair! I’m her sister!” Amanda certainly wouldn’t forget. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sister? You barely look alike. Is your familial name not O’Neill, or are you sisters by the marriage of another?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? No. We’re just…. We’re just sisters! That’s all. I don’t got time to explain all of that to you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ummm….” Maxwell gestured forward with a pointed finger to try and interject himself, but Constanze came in first with a cold, quick, and almost breathless bit of speech. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Amanda. It’s fine. Need to hear this alone.” With that, Constanze stepped past Asgall and toward the hallways in a sort of power walking fashion, without the arm movements. She wanted this to be over and done with. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’ll be nothing. They’ll have helped with a commissioned piece. They’ll be on some list. It’s nothing.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>And yet she couldn’t reason why she was so afraid of her family </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> being linked to the very order she considered joining once this Bathory business was sorted. Anxiety and irrationality walked hand in hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ehh? C-Conz! Oi! Conz!” Amanda tried to follow after Constanze, but Asgall put a claw out in front of her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Truly, if you are her sister, then you will allow her the room to breathe.” Asgall sighed, lowering his arm as he walked past. Amidst his stride toward the door, he added one last comment. “Know a vampire’s wisdom: Matters of blood are never to be trifled with.” With that, he went down the hall in the direction Constanze had turned, leaving a wordless Amanda and a socially-fumbling Maxwell to themselves, and fumble Maxwelld did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-In the meantime, we s-should go and… take a look at the armory! I’m certain that Constanze will be right and well in a few minutes…. Asgall’s likely making a big deal of something she already knows.” Maxwell was wholly ignorant of the turmoil inside of Constanze, but that didn’t make his last assumption any less apt. “We’ll meet with her back in the grand hall.” He urged, beckoning Amanda toward the door, leaving behind that inexorable mess of books for “later.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda had her arms down by her sides, her posture slumped very slightly forward, and her head cast down at a diagonal. She bit the inside of her cheek as she listened to Maxwell’s plea. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“She’d want me to be there with her!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her thoughts drifted to Constanze’s own words. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“This is my battle.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Amanda had promised to be there, but: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“How can I be there and not be there at the same time!? Ugh! If that son of a bitch hurts her….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The tension in her unknowingly balled fists quickly dissipated. She took a measured breath and slowly raised her gaze up to see Maxwell by the door. “Sorry…. I’m coming.” Her hands went back into her jacket pocket; her expression flat, but impatient. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“God damnit.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze had sat herself down in the grand hall, having been led along by Asgall, who had to briskly walk to keep up with the nerve wracked German witch. Her arms were about her chest, facing Asgall, who sat awkwardly in a chair that was a little too small for him across from her. “Talk. What is it.” Her statement sounding question was as blunt and direct as ever. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall’s form shrank by a few inches all around as he tried to make himself more comfortable in the chair. He sounded a bit distracted by that at first. “I will… not… mince words with you. I have made a discovery surrounding your family and their relation to the Balefire. I had thought this search might take me longer, but your bloodline’s prominence could not be avoided.” He gave a pause to allow Constanze to react and interlaced his claws in the meantime, holding them up by his chin with his elbows bent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze took that time to breathe in and out twice, speaking in between the motions. “They were just smiths. Kept to ourselves.” Against all of the reasoning in her mind that told her it would only make sense at this point, she denied it until Asgall made it all too candidly clear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps that was your more current reality, but in the past, it was not so. This:” Asgall produced a scroll from the cloth about his waist and unrolled it for Constanze to examine. “Is the ledger for the Balefire of Germania; eleventh to thirteenth century. See here, and here.” He reached out with a claw to figuratively underline eight names in total. “Eight generations of hunters and smiths, all bearing your familial name.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanzes’ eyes honed in on each of the names Asgall pointed out. She read them in her mind, the names echoing in her psyche in no particular order. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Angnes Von Braunchsbank-Altepeter. Fridolin Von Braunschbank-Biedenbach. Liutger Von Braunschbank-Ehrmann.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Twelve names total covered the eight generations, and most names were marked with the title </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hexenschmied</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a literal translation of witch-smith. Four of the names were marked by the title </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jäger </span>
  </em>
  <span>or </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jägerin</span>
  </em>
  <span> for the masculine and feminine forms of the word hunter. Constanze muttered her thoughts aloud, her hands ever so slightly trembling as they ran along the old parchment. “How far back does it go?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This was the earliest record I could find overall as it pertained to the Germanian Balefire. I cannot say for certain whether this is the beginning, or merely a continuation of generational membership. As far as I am currently aware, this may also be the end of your family’s enmeshment in the Balefires’ ways, for I have yet to scour the following ledgers.” Asgall leaned back in his seat, bringing his interlaced claws to neck height, still steepled and bent as before. “I had thought it best to inform you first of this finding before continuing, as I had presumed you were ignorant of this history….” His eyes focused intently on her expression; wide eyes, a mouth partly agape, and and the barely noticeable twitching and disturbances of her body and breathing. “I can see that I was right to assume as much…. Do with this information as you must.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I… don’t… know what to do.” Constanze hated few things, but inaction and uncertainty were two things near the top of her list. What she was faced with wasn’t a problem to be solved, a dilemma to be handled, a broken thing needing to be fixed, but a reality denied, hidden, obscured, now laid bare before her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Should have known. Should have known! Should have known!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her mind frantically repeated similar statements. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“All too fucking convenient. Knew it. Should have known from the start.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her mind’s voice, usually calm, placid, stonewalled in tone, became violent, angry, and erratic in volume. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It explains every-fucking-thing. Everything except why they kept it from me. They hid it. They didn’t want me to know. Did mom and dad know? Grandpa must have known. He must have known. Uncle Jo? Did he know? Why? How could they keep that away from us? Why would they? We could have known and we…. We could have….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She’s not sure what they could have done, but she was sure that— “I need air.” And so she pushed away from the desk, skidding the old chair across the stone with a shrill squeak. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall simply gestured toward the long stairwell leading up and outward, knowing it was beyond his place to say anything, save for this: “I shall await your return here. If you have questions, I will answer them to the best of my knowledge.” Based on how quickly Constanze was hurrying out and away from there, he wasn’t even sure if she acknowledged his offer, let alone heard it. Nevertheless, he was waiting for company to arrive soon anyway, assuming he had remembered how to draw the sigils correctly.  </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The topside mist had faded, but not entirely. Winter was remorseless up there in the highlands, but Constanze was numbed to just about all of her senses as she sat on a nearby crag; the flame of the marker-light, blue and gentle, waved softly as harsh winds crested over the peaks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ringing. There was so much ringing. She was gripped by such a nightmarishly painful migraine that she was hunched over, holding her temples, and muttering healing spells under her strained breath; anything to quell the throbbing at the forefront of her skull. All she could do was think and shiver in the cold:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I hate it. I hate every single aspect of it. It makes perfect sense, but I hate it…. We were witch-smiths. It was the family tradition. Grandpa wanted dad to take on that legacy, and he didn’t…. Why didn’t Uncle Jo do it instead?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> For as much as the revelation explained, there were still personal matters in her family that would require greater investigation. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Regardless. They wouldn’t teach me. I was gifted. That’s the reason why they said anything…. Were they afraid?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She thought of the funeral, her grandfather, and the circumstances of his death. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Hungary. They said he drove to Hungary and died in a car accident. Bulschit.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>There was no body at the funeral, no casket either. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Never found him or there wasn’t much of him left to bury.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She knew exactly who and what did that to him. The image of Nikolai’s hateful visage plagued her every thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“They did this. Bathory did this. Why did he go to Hungary? Unannounced?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A reason never had been given, but one had to exist. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“He knew my name. That bastard knew my name. He wanted me dead. He killed my family and everyone around them and now he wants me to join them. Too convenient.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her fingers were dug deep into her hair. She pulled them tight, trying to create a more intense pain that would overshadow the migraine to no avail. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Didn’t end with that list. There’s more Von Braunschbanks who worked with the order. There has to be.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Through the clemency provided by pain, internal and external, she put the pieces of this bloody puzzle together:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“One of us was there. A Von Braunschbank. We stopped Bathory with the Balefire. Imprisoned her. Didn’t kill her off. Now we’re paying for it. Paying in every ounce of blood they spill. Paid for it with Ludinghal….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She inhaled sharply at a particularly biting wind; her breath was shaky as tears welled at the corners of her eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Revenge. They wanted fucking revenge and they got it. They got all of us except for me. That’s why he wants me. That’s why he knows who I am. That’s why Grandpa went to Hungary. He knew somehow. He figured out that they would come for us. He was going to finish what was started….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>And he failed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Didn’t warn us. Should’ve warned us. Should have known better. Why did I ever trust them? Any of them? Why do I even care? Why am I even surprised? They lied all of the time. They gaslit me every day. Nothing was good enough for them. Would they not listen? Did they deny it? Maybe they were warned and didn’t care.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She threw her fists to her lap, tearing away a few strands of hair, wincing as a result. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It doesn’t matter. They’re dead. They’re all dead. And they were trying to better…. Maybe they would have told me if they had time. Maybe things would have gotten better. Or was that another lie? Another trap?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The piercingly cold air suddenly became cool. It wasn’t warm, but it was warmer, and soothing in a way. It was focused mostly around her head, but Constanze didn’t seem to notice even when she felt something very gently brush her hair. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Why now though? Why did the Bathorys attack now? It's been hundreds of years. Whatever ancestor we had that fought them is long dead. We didn’t do anything! They were abusive! They were liars! They were deceitful! But they didn’t start this! The Bathorys needed to be stopped, but they aren’t the ones who stopped them!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze ground her teeth together as her eyes slowly opened; the pain in her head was mercifully receding, allowing for true clarity to shine through. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Why am I even trying to make sense of them? They’re crazy, bloodthirsty, royal vampires. They don’t care. They’re killing and kidnapping random witches. They killed an entire village for what one family did a long time ago. There’s no sense. No logic.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A gentle songbirds humming started, though it came from a more human, somewhat feminine sounding voice. The pain continued to subside, and Constanze was able to let her tears flow freely. Her fists became unclenched. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“All because of him. Nikolai. He’s…. I’m losing my mind because of him. He’s hurt me so much. He killed them all and they might have…. No. No, no. Don’t make excuses for them.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She had to accept what happened to her, but she had to simultaneously accept what happened to them, and that both occurrences were tragedies in their own right, all while coexisting within the same grand context. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“And now he’s going to take Sucy away. He’s going to take all of them away. Him and his court.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>That was the problem. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The song that lit up her ears carried on all the while; a gentle stroking of tiny fingers ran through her hair. Still, Constanze didn’t realize it, but she was starting to sense something was off. She looked to her wand and thought of her blaster. She thought of the weapons down in the armory. She needed them. Luna Nova needed them to be armed and ready. She couldn’t just steal them though, she wouldn’t feel right, especially now that she knew her family had been a part of this, despite her absolute disgust at the fact that they hid that fact from her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“We’re going to kill him. He can die like anyone else. One shot to the head. One to the heart. Either will work.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Those were the means. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I have to. We have to. He’s going to take Sucy. She had no part in this. Amanda didn’t either… but she’s my sister now. We’re in this to the end…. Have to kill him…. And now, I have the perfect reason.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>This was the motive; the formula complete. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m ending this feud. One way or another. It ends with me.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The only hesitation that remained lay in controlling her anger. She felt it was justified now, but she was still unsure that it was healthy or right to fall into such obsessive behaviors; she had a promise made to Sucy to keep, after all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmmm hmmm… hmmmm…. Hmm hm hmmm, hmmhmmmmm….” The humming persisted, and now Constanze was conscious enough to realize the weight on her head, the sudden shift in temperature, the songbird’s turn. She felt a tiny thing roll up a few strands of her hair, playing with it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm!?” Constanze scrambled to her feet and shook her head as though a spider had gotten into it. When she felt the weight suddenly disappear, and found nothing had fallen, she looked about in a confused manner. That’s when she heard the fluttering of wings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A multi-layered voice, featuring almost entirely feminine tones and pitches, jauntily rang out in faux annoyance. “My my! Here I am, warming that cold heart of yours out of the goodness of mine, and you shoo me away like some common housefly? The nerve! The audacity! Mortals truly haven’t changed a bit!” Constanze looked in the direction the voice came from and found  lightly blue skinned humanoid, no taller than a foot in height, floating in the air just behind her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you don’t even apologize!” The Fae woman leaned forward with her hands on her hips. Her expression was scrunched up as she gave a stiff upper lip like some nanny ready to scold a child. “Who taught you manners little miss? I’ve a right mind to sour all of their milk for a week  for the poor job they’ve done!” Her wings were near perfectly clear, like a dragonflies, though she possessed three sets of them rather than two. The top and bottom most pairs formed right-triangle shapes with the wider flat end facing out, while the middle most pair of wings were more traditionally thin at the base, extending outward to a wider oval shape. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“S-Sorry. Didn’t know…. Was… distracted.” Constanze didn’t really know what to say to this Fae; why was she even here? In the meantime, Constanze took in the Fae’s full detail:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Fae’s body was regular in shape, relative to her side. She looked like an averagely built woman with flat hips and tight angular shoulders. She possessed five, normal looking fingers, though about them, air seemed to swirl and gather in visible little winds. Her eyes were blank, tiny, and white, without irises or pupils, but she seemed to see just as anyone else might based on how she followed Constanze’s movements and kept eye contact. She was clothed from the waist down in a darker blue skirt that reached just past her knees, and made of a fiber that was otherwise unknown to Constanze. Despite it’s coloration, it was slightly see through, though the Fae was without sex. The dress flowed as her hair did, in a wind that seemed to always carry it like a flag held aloft would be. It was always to the side or behind her, but held up gently so, as if weightless, and her hair was quite long for her size, somewhat curled, and colored similarly to the dress; dark blue to contrast her light blue skin. The way her skirt and hair blew though seemed to be constant; always northward. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With an exaggerated scoff and swoon, the Fae woman replied. “You’re welcome by the way! If it wasn’t for me you’d probably still be just as distracted by… whatever it was you were angry about!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze put two and two together, realizing the change in temperature and the waves of soothing that came over her originated from this Fae. “O-Oh. Thanks. Appreciated.” She wasn’t sure how actually helpful it was when it came to realizing what she needed to, but it was nice to not feel like she needed to strike a wall so hard it broke her fingers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmmph! About time!” Every statement the Fae seemed to make came off with enough energy to make it seem exclamatory, assuming it wasn’t a question, and her accent, all of the accents of her multi-layered voice for that matter, sounded Scottish, or perhaps Irish. “Now, maybe we can get off on the right foot, hmm? Might I have your name?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze slowly nodded. “It’s Constanze—” Then the person-who-was-no-longer-named Constanze lost her train of thought. “H-HEY!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bahahaha!” Constanze laughed so hard that she was curled up in the air, doing a little summersault. “Ahaha… ahh…. Ehehhhhh…. You can have it back!” The Fae woman winked, restoring Constanze’s name. Even so, Constanze was glaring her down with the last shred of patience that she didn’t know she even had. “Very sorry dear, it’s just too easy, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>way</span>
  </em>
  <span> too funny when it works!” Another fit of giggling interrupted her, prompting Constanze to raise a brow annoyedly. “Ahh, yes! My name is Frararanca! T’is my pleasure!” Frararanca curtsied amidst her introduction, and opened her mouth to speak again, but found herself startled when she raised her head and opened her eyes from the curtsy. “BWAH!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm!?” Constanze spun about on her heels,  and found Asgall to already be palming at his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, just get it over with and scream already.” Asgall said while Constanze turned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“BWAH!” Constanze was quicker to steady herself this time, but was startled nonetheless. “Verdammt Asgall! We asked you not to do that!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I had asked Frararanca here to arrive quietly, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> to interact with either you or Amanda, but clearly we all have a problem listening to one another….” The claw about his face dropped to reveal a leer shot Frararanca’s way. “Would you mind waiting down in my quarters?” His question was more of a demand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frararanca smiled wide, ignoring the annoyance clear in Asgall’s tone. “If this is for what I think it is, little bat, then I’d like my payment up front!” She then held her left hand out to receive whatever it was that she had been promised.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Little… bat?” Constanze quickly shifted from being annoyed to being almost uncomfortable. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall didn’t even deign to respond to that inquiry and simply reached for his mouth. With barely any effort, he was able to pry one of his smaller fangs free with a sharp crack. It wasn’t wholly uprooted, having been broken just at the base. Constanze cringed and hissed at the sight and sound. Carelessly, Asgall then tossed it to Frararanca who had to scramble to summon up wind magic in order to properly catch it. “H-Hey! You could have handed it to me!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you could have called me by my chosen name rather than your pet-given-title, and yet here we stand. Tch….” Asgall rolled his eyes and turned about languidly. “For someone so quick to chastise a grieving woman about manners, you lack them almost entirely.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re drier than—” Frararanca grunted with effort, struggling to hold the tooth, which was quite heavy and large in relation to her. “—An un-oiled Rust Fae!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze rubbed her eyes and cleared her ears, onset by far too many thoughts and emotions to be in a good state of mind. “Why… why the teeth?” She just needed to make some sense out of whatever the hell this interaction was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Strigoi teeth are a powerful reagent you know!” Frararanca grunted once more until she was able to wrap the tooth up in a string and sling it over her back. “And they add just the right bit of bitterness to Sophist-Wasp honey when ground up into a fine powder and sprinkled all about…. Ah! I just </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> get enough of that stuff!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“St-Strigoi?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a term given to the most ancient of my kind.” Asgall remarked without turning his head. “We become as such when we start to become more bestial in appearance…. Do not mind Frararanca here, she is a friend of the flame…. And the teeth grow back.” As he was walking away, he was kind enough to demonstrate how even, summoning up a red mist to his hand and speaking in a guttural tongue; the magic of ascended vampires. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Trine’ffryyrgh.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The mists then shot up toward the broken tooth, forming a loose shape of the missing fang before dispersing to reveal the thing had already been regrown. “I will await your questions down in the grand hall, Constanze.” With that he began the long walk down into the mountain’s heart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“R-Right….” Now she really wasn’t sure what to think of Asgall. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I thought vampires couldn’t do that.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ta-ta Constanze! I’ll be seeing you later!” Frararanca interjected, giving a wave as she fluttered on down into the order hall, leaving Constanze to her own devices. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm….” Constanze didn’t even have a chance to respond, and the comfortable coolness in the air was quick to leave once Fararanca had gone. A cold breeze chilled Constanze to the bone, spurring her down into the order hall to join the others. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Calm down…. Just stay calm and breathe.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>With every few steps, she inhaled and exhaled deeply. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Need to settle this with Asgall…. Need to find out why it’s all coming together.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mind your steps! It’s always been a bit cluttered in here, and I don’t want you hurting yourself on any of these.” Maxwell said while shifting awkwardly past a polearm that was leaning out of a barrel filled with various weapons. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gee, he’s got all the time in the world to organize the library but can’t keep a clean armory?” Amanda pushed the leaning polearm up with a sigh, moving past it, deeper into the room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were in the armory, as Amanda’s remark would suggest: The room was more average sized, in the sense that the ceiling was only four feet taller than Amanda, and, while wide, wasn’t as cumbersome to traverse as the grand hall. It was cramped, in fact, for the weapons and armaments, adorned on mannequins, stuffed in barrels, held in cases, and stuck on racks, were so plentiful as to arm a mob for war. Almost all of the pieces were of medieval, or early renaissance design; melee weapons such as swords, halberds, axes, and spears, ranged weapons, such as bows, crossbows, and even early powder weapons, and magical instruments such as staves, wands, war-tomes and scrolls, and more esoteric implements whose use was inscrutable from just a glance. Each of them was caked in a layer of dust that was surprisingly absent throughout most of the facilities; Maxwell and, more so Asgall, had at least done well to keep the place relatively clean. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But besides that, browse all you want, and don’t feel like you need to rush. You have all day to decide, and it’s just as Asgall said: A wise hunter always comes prepared for what she hunts.” Maxwell remarked with a raised finger, as if to be scholarly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda ducked beneath more jutting spears with a groan before she found herself in a relatively clear part of the armory and properly began to search for something she could use, “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get what works for me…. You’ve got more swords than I can fuckin’ count though.” Which was most of what was in the armory. Anyone could use a spear and be relatively proficient in it, but swordplay was Amanda’s forte, and so she focused on finding something in that category, be it short, long, great, or even curved if it was well balanced. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amidst her search, she began to notice something strange about some of the weapons; usually the ones that were isolated in a case or on a slab. “Uhh… Maxy? Why are some of these things broken?” They weren’t just broken from rust or natural wear and tear though, they seemed intentionally split. These particular pieces were so finely separated that if one was to put all three parts back together, you wouldn’t be able to tell that they even came apart until touching it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell had been idly looking around when the question came, snapping him to attention. “Hmm? Oh! Yes, it seems you’ve found some of the rarer pieces in our possession.” He shuffled toward Amanda, past more poorly stacked weapons, and examined the weapon she had been staring at. “That is The Morning Star,” He spoke of the finely broken mace, aptly named as such for the morning star head it had; a metal orb covered in spikes. It was no simple morning star mace though, noted by the deeply blue colored shaft, the golden accents, florarly patterned down the length of it, and the faint dancing of electrical sparks between the various spikes every minute or so. “It was a weapon wielded and crafted by one of this hall’s finest witch-smiths, a Welsh fellow named Cledwyn. They never did record his family’s name, but no one’s sure if he ever gave it either. The records show he just appeared one day with his entire stock of tools and materials in a cart and argued with the watchmen at the entrance for three hours to be let in so he could craft his masterpiece…. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span>—” Maxwell brushed a hand over the glass case, wiping it clean of dust. “—Is that masterpiece…. He said the incantations and processes needed to make it came to him in a dream, and he had to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span> of all places to properly make it.”  He chuckled then. “That’s how the story goes at least.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda hummed curiously. She was usually bored by history, but magical weapon lore was one of few academic topics that she could appreciate, mostly because the stories surrounding such pieces usually had flair and whimsy to them; it kept her interested. “It’s a nice lookin’ weapon, but that didn’t really answer my question.” Amanda cocked her head and shifted her view around as she tried to take in the full shape and design of The Morning Star.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, right.” Maxwell cleared his throat. “Every weapon you see in here is enchanted, plain and simple. All of them are made to be more resilient, degrade slower, and usually have an enhanced sharpness or weight to them; nothing major, but it’s all necessary.” He “dinged” one of the flat heads of an upright axe with his staff to accentuate his point. “When you’re fighting monstrous foes, you need monstrous strength at your back, so our witch-smiths made sure every weapon, bolt, arrow, and shot that we had was strong enough to damage even the toughest of foes…. Then there’s pieces like this, like The Morning Star. These are the kinds of weapons you hear about in myth, in legends. Their power is a few cuts above anything else you’ll find in here, or anywhere else for that matter. Some of them are weapons of legend, others, like this, are mastercrafts of our witch-smiths. What separates them is the intensity and rarity of their enchantments, and for that reason, our smiths would break them apart when they weren’t in use, that way no one could easily misuse them, especially those who tried to steal from our holds.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aaaaand do you have any with-smiths around now to </span>
  <em>
    <span>fix</span>
  </em>
  <span> them…?” AManda turned her head to Maxwell and quickly saw the tour-guide’s mirth drain from his face, being replaced by embarrassment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well…. No. But! We have Constanze, don’t we?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If she’s what you guys call a witch-smith, then yeah, I guess. Unless there’s some sort of secret trick to fixing these things, in which case you better tell her, because I sure as hell don’t know what to do about it, and I don’t think she knows either.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well… I wasn’t… exactly sure of how to do that either.” Maxwell turned away to focus his eyes on something else, avoiding Amanda’s incredulously tired gaze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda threw her arms out in disbelief. “Seriously? We’re gonna have to go three three trials for broken weapons that we don’t even know how to fix? What kinda joke is this!?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I’m certain Asgall might have a better idea, and… well, it’s not like we don’t have </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> time at least to figure this out. We’ve yet to visit the forges down in the deepest parts of the hall…. Though… we’ll need to excavate the path, but with your assistance, that shouldn’t be much of an issue.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And the forges will </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> have a solution to this issue?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell pursed his lips before mustering a more harde-faced expression, one he was more commonly seen with, and turned to Amanda. “I don’t often make promises, but I’m promising you now that it will.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda sighed, sliding past him to search out more of the armory. “For all our sakes, you better be right.” She began shifting various things around alongside Maxwell, searching out for those rarer pieces. The weapons all around, those with basic enchantments, would serve well in a typical hunt, but nothing about this was typical; they weren’t enough to go up against such staggering odds. As she did so, she got thinking again, usually between Maxwells’ expoundings on the history and lore behind various weapons and pieces of armor. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Even if we beat these trials, we might not even get anything worthwhile out of it.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda wanted to feel spiteful, but Asgalls’ warnings were grim reminders, not just of the severity of the situation, but inadvertently so, of Amanda’s doubt; the voices of naysaying “family” members. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“If we beat the trials…. If.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>They didn’t even know what they would be like until the night had come, leaving them without a clear way to prepare. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Constanze could figure it out, but what if that takes too damn long? We need to figure out how to do that now!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>That’s when the voices started up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Deprecations all; imposed on herself by the spectral imaginations and psychological ghosts of her blood family echoing in her mind. What she hated was that she found herself </span>
  <em>
    <span>agreeing</span>
  </em>
  <span> with some of those damnable jabs; attacks on her ontological being:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re lazy, unmotivated, and disrespectful! I didn’t raise you to waste my time and effort, let alone your potential!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her father’s rancorous bellowing ached in her mind. She hated that he felt her only potential lay in assuming the role of the oppressor, the swindler, and the businesswoman, but she felt that pang of impotency in her own ability to do what she </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanted, which was to be an effective and well meaning witch; one who fights for what she thinks is right. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Honestly, why are your wasting time with that? It’s a dying ‘art,’ if you can even call it that. Our family got to where we are because our grandparents did away with all those silly traditions their parents kept with them. We pulled ourselves up by our bootstraps, and it’s about time you learned how to do the same!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her mother’s foppish voice never ceased to nag Amanda. The only boots she could imagine were the ones stepping on the faces and shoulders of everyone her family used to reach the level of wealth they enjoyed to that day. What nagged her was the insinuation of her own uselessness. Magic had been near dead when she began this would-be journey, when she came to Luna Nova. It was by sheer luck, or perhaps by the whims of fateful powers beyond her immediate knowing, that the year she chose to start was the very year Akko, the so called savior of magic, arrived in all her clumsy, mirthful glory. Even after magic was returned, Amanda never had an idea of whatever she was going to do with herself, with her magic, her powers and thoughts and feelings, until she was thrust into a situation where she felt there was no other solution besides the most drastic one; throw it all away. Constanze had a future, a purpose, a craft. Amanda was just a punk. She still was </span>
  <em>
    <span>just a punk</span>
  </em>
  <span>, even if those words had been recontextualized after years of growth and learning. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“The real movers and shakers in this world have always come from above. They didn’t waste their time learning mystical nonsense and skipping around in a field; they studied! They worked themselves to the bone and made themselves people worthy of the history books. And don’t you forget it.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The contradictions in her first claim, as obvious as they may seem to others, were wholly invisible to her family, making every move against them all the more difficult emotionally, just as much as it made it easier in practice; how else was a child to handle going about things that they were told would directly ruin their lives, or leave them as unforgotten, nameless failures. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fuck that!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Still, Amanda resisted them all the same. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I ain’t here to get remembered by people I don’t even know!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She argued with the voice in her head as her mind partially relived the moment of that talk, though she had inserted her adult self in place of the child that was actually present. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m here to just do something half-fucking-decent! If all I do is save a person’s life once, that’ll be enough for me, but nothing’s ever enough for you, is it!?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Not that the remembered spectre of her mother could respond in any way that mattered. Defiant as she was, Amanda’s fervor didn’t overpower the doubt in her heart, that she would fail here, and let the ones she loved most, her true family, down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What if you found yourself face to face with her right now, as you are? Would you be able to escape, persist, claim victory even?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Asgall’s words, paraphrased as they were, couldn’t be ignored. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I will not arm a blind woman with a sword she does not know how to wield. You will face three trials, as all hunters and smiths who came before you did.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda closed her eyes and sighed, prompting Maxwell to stop his fantastical storytelling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm? Is everything alright?” Amanda ignored him for a few moments more, caught up in her own thoughts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“There are no chosen people, only those who choose for themselves and stand up and fight.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The words came in Asgall’s and Amanda’s voice, she understood the wisdom in those words, and knew she was one of those people who chose to fight. She knew that it wasn’t merely a matter of standing up and protesting though; she said it herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“When some people got all the power in the world, you don’t have friendly conversations with them about being equal: You take their shit or swindle them out of it. Whatever it takes to set things right.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The context was different; this wasn’t a matter of class and society, but of life and death, vampires and witches, yet the truth within the statement remained all the same. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Gotta give it my all and then some. I didn’t choose to get attacked by some random fire. I didn’t choose to get swept up in this Balefire shit. I didn’t choose to go be a hero….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Though she knew, at any point, she could have turned away, rode off into the sunset, and never looked back. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“But I… did choose to stay. I chose to love them, all of ‘em…. I didn’t ask to be a part of this order, and maybe I won’t ever be, but if these guys can be what they say they were….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She had to admit, Maxwell may have been a bit of a dreamer, an idealist even, but his idealism was no less valuable as a means of motivation to accomplish what was practical. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, my name ain’t gonna be Amanda-Freakin-O’Neill if I can’t get this right. Time to nut up or shut up.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Crude as she may be, her resolve was hardened twice over in that moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ummm…. Amanda?” Then Maxwell’s staff prodding her in the side brought her back down to Earth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” Amanda blinked and quickly shot her gaze leftward toward maxwell. “What were you saying about this? It’s called Gay Buldge, right?” She gestured to the simple, crimson shafted spear with an ornately carved, and viciously serrated blade, one that would unfold into seven greater heads when thrust into flesh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell choked on air, replying amidst a coughing fit. “</span>
  <span>Gáe Bulg! It’s pronounced Ga-e Bull-ugh!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda awkwardly scratched the back of her head, still mildly distracted by where her mind was wandering off to. “Whoops.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A minute or so passed while Amanda awaited for Maxwell to catch his breath. When he finally did, he had this to say: “Ugh…. You’re not usually distracted like that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve known me for less than a week, dude.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, it was a little concerning regardless…. Are you tired? Did you not get enough sleep?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nah, I’m fine…. Just thinkin’ is all.” The look Maxwell gave Amanda after she made that comment bade that she continued. “Lemme start this off right then:” She took a quick breath. “I’m sorry about being a bitch when you found us in Porthcurno. And for being pretty quick to… well… put a wand to your back like that.” She hesitated momentarily before pressing onward with her candid apology and explanation. “We’ve been through a lot, me and Constanze, and we’re both tired; literally and mentally. Like, we don’t know if we’re gonna be able to do this, let alone if we’re gonna be able to beat these trials Asgall’s coming up with…. And well, you know Constanze’s stance on all of this: It’s all a bit weird how it’s coming together, and I gotta agree.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell nodded, his lips tightening in surprise. “Your apology’s accepted, but I didn’t think much of what you said anyway, not that the apology isn’t appreciated…. And, I admit, I was a bit foolish to not be more upfront and clear with you two about Asgall; about our weapons either.” He paused to consider his next words carefully. “And, while I haven’t seen you fight in person, those giant mantis corpses didn’t come from the sky, nor did any of the other bodies of monsters you felled…. So you’ve certainly got the potential.” He smiled a bit and reached out to pat Amanda on the back. “Where’d all that confidence go, Amanda-Freakin-O’Neill?” He chuckled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda couldn't help but chuckle back, though her cheeks were a little flush given how embarrassed she was to actually be called that, ironically enough. “Let’s just say I’m a good actor, and yeah, me and Conz aren’t pushovers but…. I mean shit, your hunters in the past couldn’t easily beat this shit, so how’re we supposed to?” Still, mournfulness and uncertainty remained in her voice, even as she smiled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aaaahhhh…. I see now.” Maxwell hummed thoughtfully. “I know what Asgall said to you is true, and that you have little interest in prophecies or fate, but think about it, Amanda:” Amanda turned her downcast expression up to regard him hopefully; she listened carefully. “If Jehanne came to you, if she truly did speak to you, and if the Balefire does indeed burn in your soul, then you must consider that </span>
  <em>
    <span>she herself</span>
  </em>
  <span> was someone who lived by the words Asgall told you…. There are no chosen people, just people who choose to stand up and fight. They believed in those words wholeheartedly, Vaal and Jehanne, and so the only reason they would come to you isn’t because you were prophesied or because you were the only one who could have ever done this…. But because you were there when the call rang out, because Jehanne likely knew you were someone who didn’t sit by while evil men did as they pleased…. The Nine worked, and likely still work to this day, in mysterious ways, but Vaal and Jehanne could be relied on as the most direct of the bunch; trust me on that. There were no mistakes or oversights in what happened to you…. And, not to press you on it, but I have full confidence that you are very much a vessel for the Balefire; a reclaimer, of sorts. I ask you to merely do what you think is right with that knowledge.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I guess a vote of confidence from one of the Nine is a pretty ringing endorsement….” Amanda smiled a little wider, but ultimately sighed. “But what does any of that mean? A vessel for the Balefire? Like, how does that help us? Or anyone? Right now, or later?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell retracted his hand, continuing to speak, but now in a more comforting tone. “You’re not like most witches, Amanda.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda scoffed nonchalantly. “Tell me something I don’t know.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What I mean is that maybe you don’t realize the meaning behind what you experienced. Witches of olde were nothing but people of tradition, and so if Jehanne had left the flame there for someone to find, she knew that someone such as you would come along to claim it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t really claim it so much as it claimed me.” Amanda shook her head, idly running a hand along one of the many weapons about the area. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe so, but consider this: It hasn’t forced you to come here has it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Has Jehanne explicitly told you to do anything that you do not want to do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“.... No. I guess not.” Amanda was always quite the thrill seeker as is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Has it hurt you in any way?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean, kind of. It’s a magical fire, man. That shit burns like nothing else!”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“O-Ok, but beyond the initial pain, did it hurt you at all?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda sighed. “Nope. It’s… just kinda… in me, I guess. Ever since that happened though, when things get intense, like a fight is about to start, I start feeling kinda hot, but not in a bad way. It lasts for the whole fight, but I never really paid much mind to it because I use so much fire magic; I just thought it was some elemental shit. The thing is, I feel like it’s getting hotter every time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell raised his eyebrows curiously and leaned into his staff. “Fascinating…. Burn brightly and seek valor. That was the gist of what told you, yes?” Amanda nodded in confirmation, her eyes cast elsewhere. “Do you think she meant it literally?” Slowly, she turned them back to Maxwell, wanting to parse out his meaning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As in, every time I end up fighting or doing something daring, this fire’s growing stronger?” Maxwell nodded. Amanda then brought her left hand over her chest and tried so very hard to feel the heat. She could sense it now, but only when she focused every aspect of her being inward. There was a humming, burning, and yearning flame deep within. It was strong, but it was not complete. Amanda needed to prove herself further before her soul would be ablaze. “Does that make me stronger though?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s just as I said Amanda: Witches of olde are all about tradition. The Balefire in you may or may not grant you power, but what’s important is what it means as a symbol.” Maxwell grinned wistfully like a sage. “The Balefire has always been a beacon, literally and figuratively. It is a torch that stands against the darkness…. You are that torch now, in a sense.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I’m just one witch! I have Constanze, and you, and Lotte… but beyond that, we can’t guarantee anyone else is gonna help us.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Remember what I mentioned back in Porthcurno, the saying: This Fire is Ours. It’s not just meant to sound sentimental or ritualistic, it has meaning. It’s a statement of trust between brothers, sisters, siblings, comrades. You may be a torch lit by the Balefire, but you are just that, </span>
  <em>
    <span>a torch</span>
  </em>
  <span>, singular. Together, we grow brighter and hotter.” Maxwell wrapped his staff once against the stone to accentuate his point. “Never doubt the abilities of what gathered powers can do. Nothing that stands alone stands for long.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The room fell quiet then. Amanda had to think at all through twice before it stuck with her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Assuming that even was the real Balefire…. I trust them, Constanze especially, but how the hell am I supposed to trust myself after all the fuck-ups I’m responsible for?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Some of the words Jehanne imparted to her rang out once more, and she repeated them internally. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Where once this flame was mine, now it is yours. Go and bear the torch well, good hunter, lest darkness consume all.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Did Jehanne truly know that Amanda would feel a connection to the cause of her order? Did she know whether or not Amanda would join, even before Amanda had known of the order? Was she aware of Amanda’s existence at all? It was less a conversation they had, and more of a ritual, one Amanda immediately rejected, but one that Jehanne persisted with. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“How the fuck am I supposed to accept something like that?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Then she thought of Sucy, and how Sucy knew Amanda in ways that Amanda hadn’t known herself, or at least in ways that Amanda refused to recognize on her own. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, I accepted that just fine… eventually…. Better late than never, I guess.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the external world, Amanda took to leaning up against a bare patch of wall. “Sorry. I just need a moment.” She mumbled. In turn, Maxwell backed off to go and search for more weapons of note; they still had to pick a prize after all. Meanwhile, Amanda kept on thinking. She went in circles with her thoughts for a time, spiralling around the self perpetuating issue of self doubt and immense responsibility. Her unique position, among Constanze, Lotte, and Maxwell, as the few who were immediately aware of, and could help Luna Nova in this trying time, felt undeserved. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Just a dumb punk.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze had called her that, but endearingly so, and she adored the label; one who rebels against the unjust and oppressive. If only it weren’t loaded with diminutive implications.That’s when it struck her.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “All the people in Porthcurno are just that…. I’m just that. Little folks in a big world with big problems.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> It took a great deal of mental effort, but she was able to quiet the naysaying voices and fears long enough for her to make sense of Maxwell’s advice. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“We were  never gonna take it on alone, but we can’t just act like this’ll all be over after that Bathory bitch is dead…. A buncha little flames all together to make a roaring fire. We gotta keep burning until it’s all bright.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She looked up at the ceiling, lost in her thoughts. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I trust them. I have to. And if I trust them, then I need to trust their judgement…. They said they trust me, so I must be worth something.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Then her gaze slowly came down to the hand upon her chest; she hadn’t realized she left it there, by the warmth of her soul. She felt it grow in strength, by one or two degrees. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I gotta make this fire mine for real, and I gotta do it the only way I know how: I’m gonna get casting, get blasting and ride or die like there’s no fuckin’ tomorrow!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> And the upcoming trials would provide just the challenge she sought; the flame would be fed, and Amanda would know herself to be worthy not just of the responsibilities she had been given, but of the love her real family had for her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda’s chest-held fist clenched tightly into a determined fist. “Oi! Maxwell!” Maxwell turned about suddenly, surprised to hear Amanda speaking with such energy. “I’ll make you a deal. If you show me the Balefire for this hold, and something happens involving this weird fire… then I’m in.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y-You’re… in? You mean you’d—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Help you rebuild the order? Damn straight.” Amanda pushed herself off of the wall with a kick while putting her hands to her hips. She stood squarely before Maxwell, grinning confidently, as she had always been want to do, at his astonished excitement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell was without words, or rather, he tried to speak for a solid thirty seconds, but found himself sputtering, until finally, his old and grim voice boomed with a previously unheard jubilation, one he thought died with his innocence and ignorance back in the war. “HELL’S BELLS! I NEVER THOUGHT I’D SEE THE DAY!” Then he came at Amanda with a great big hug, one Amanda welcomed in spirit, but recoiled bodily out of surprise. “HAHA! OUR FIRE’LL BE REKINDLED YET!” For a man of his age, he had quite the strong grip when he put his mind to it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“O-Oi! Easy, Maxy! Hah!” Amanda returned the hug and both of them clapped each other vigorously on the back. “You can celebrate when we get out of this all in one piece, alright!?” Eventually, Maxwell had gotten his fill and agreed that it was too early to truly be at ease. “I get you’re excited, but nothing’s in motion yet. Maybe when this is all done, me, you, my girlfriends, and even Benjy can go out for that drink he promised you. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Then</span>
  </em>
  <span> we can really party.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell chuckled intermittently, wiping his beard back into order.“Yes… ahah… yes that sounds wonderful…. Sorry about that. It’s been a long while since I’ve had anyone in the order who’s had the same energy that you do…. No offense to Asgall; I love the bastard, but he’s got the enthusiasm of a brick wall half the time, and that’s on a good day like today.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, so this is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> day for him?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’ll be better once he hears the news.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s finish up here first. I still need to get armed, or at least pick something right for killin’ vampires.” Amanda looked around then with a huff. “There… sure is a shit ton to look through though. I was hoping we’d have Constanze around for this, but… well… she’s gotta handle her shit.” Amanda smirked then. “But I’m pretty sure she’ll wanna rely on her own tools first. She’s always been like that….” Her eyes fell to Maxwell one final time. “Let’s get rummaging.” He nodded firmly in response before both of them headed off to scour the whole of the armory for anything and everything of note. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For mercy, it only took Amanda a few minutes to find something that greatly intrigued her. At first, it seemed dull: An old, blackstone case, around four feet in length, and one foot in width. The case itself was marked by the Y Ddraig Goch, The Red Dragon of Wales, or The Dragon of Cadwaladr, directly in the center. It was the only symbol upon the blackstone surface which gave it any other color. The red of the dragon was faded though, giving it an ancient age, and served as the only defined carving upon the lid of the case. Amanda blew away a thin layer of dust before wiping the top clean. She hummed once before putting her hands against the lid and giving it a push. It was quite heavy, but after she put her full weight into it, the telltale noise of grinding stone signalled that she’d gotten it open. A bit more effort saw the case fully lifted up and set down with a gentle clack, revealing the contents therein:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two blades and two matching scabbers were laid among crimson cloth, both with blindingly white hilts. The greater of the two blades was a longsword, and bore a red gem in the center of the pommel, while the lesser blade, a straight bladed dagger, bore a black gemstone in the same position as its larger twin. Both of the blades were broken perfectly in exactly three places, but no sign of any immediate enchantments could be spotted from Amanda’s cursory glance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmmm…. Hey Maxwell!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda beckoned Maxwell over to where she stood. “Come tell me what these ones are called; they’re right up my alley.” He shimmied on past a few cluttered sections while Amanda shuffled to her left, offering him a place to stand. Both of them leaned over the case to get a better look at the blades within. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instantly, Maxwell’s face lit up with recognition. “Ahh! The twin blades: Dyrnwyn and Carnwennan. They’re Welsh weapons of myth, and while not originally wielded together, one hunter of the order, a woman by the name of Corrigan Mac Diarmada, brought them both to bear when one of her comrades fell in battle against a rampaging giant. He had been wielding Dyrnwyn, while she carried Carnwennan, but when she had procured it from his body, she found that the two blades, when wielded together, were a force to be feared.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda rubbed at her chin inquisitive. “Mk, what do they do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dyrnwyn was the blade wielded by one of the earliest kings of Wales, Rhydderch Hael, or Rhydderch The Generous. He lived up to his name, despite his kingly position, but I always found his title to be a tad ironic…. You see, he would often offer his sword to those he spoke to, even if they were his enemies. While that might seem mad, it was all a cunning test, for when anyone draws Dyrnwyn from its sheath, should they be drawing it for a worthy cause, or be of noble heart, the blade shall become alight with fire. However, if they are not of noble heart, or are drawing it for an unworthy or wicked cause, the flames of the sword will instead consume them until death.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda’s expression scrunched up. “Eugh…. Helluva way to go….” Especially after she had to experience the Balefire burning hot throughout her whole body. “Alright, what about Carnwennan?” Best not to dwell on the burning alive part.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was a blade supposedly wielded by King Arthur, according to the Welsh version of the legends, at least. The stories say that it allowed the user to shroud themself in shadow, but in truth, it’s power is far greater.” Maxwell waved a hand just an inch above the blades, sensing their latent magical energies. “Whoever draws the blade from its sheath will become bonded to it until they sheath it again. While bonded, the wielder may use the blade to… teleport, for lack of a better word. The idea that it cloaks you in shadows likely came from the magical effects that surround the user when it occurs, as it appears like a black mist around them. The wielder does so by throwing the blade and focusing their magic on it like you would any wand when casting a spell. At any point during its flight, or when it’s landed, the wielder can will themselves to its location, and will always appear from the angle that is most advantageous to them, allowing them to catch the blade, and usually, strike at whatever they’re attacking.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And when you’re wielding a sword like Dyrnwyn, well, I can’t think of many things that would be able to stand up to that combo.” Amanda smirked. “Did I ever tell you I’m pretty good with a sword?” Maxwell shook his head. “Maybe I’ll get to show you during the trials, because these two bad boys are the ones I’m fightin’ for.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re not easy to wield, even if you’re familiar with bladework.” Maxwell stepped away and placed both of his hands on the gnarled head of his staff. “Effectively, unless you intend to switch between a wand and Carnwennan in the heat of battle, you’ll be relying on just the powers of each sword and your own wandless-magic to fight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I’ve got a solution to that problem already….” Amanda turned on her heels, looking coy as she remembered back to the fateful day at Appleton. “You just worry about getting those forges uncovered so Conz can put those two back together. We’ve got time, but not as much we’d like.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye. I can do that.” Maxwell pondered on just </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> he would do that, but druidicly minded men such as him had their ways. He’d need to find a proper map of the hold first; no use digging out the wrong tunnel. “In the meantime, you should get a lay of the land, and make sure Constanze does the same. I can’t tell you what the trials are, but if they’re anything like what I went through, you’ll want to know where you’re going around here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda nodded confidently. “Once I meet up with Conz, I’ll make sure we do that. We could use a walk anyway.” Then she put her hands into her jacket and started toward the door. “We’ll come back once it starts getting dark. And hey,” Amanda spun about and walked backward, shooting a finger-gun Maxwell’s way. “Remember our deal!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell raised his right hand up flatly in a wave. “Wouldn’t dream of forgettin’ it!” Amanda waved back before hurrying out to find her way to the grand hall. She could only hope that Constanze was alright. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze was understandably </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> alright, but she was no longer paralyzed by loathsome inaction. Her steady descent down into the grand hall gave her time to prepare her questions. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Question one….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She ran through them, methodically, as she would any matter of importance. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Is it possible to know when my family stopped working with the Balefire…. Simple enough.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She exhaled, letting some of the tension in her shoulders be released with every finalized question. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Question two: If I’m not a witch-smith, how can I become one….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze had to hope that the knowledge wasn’t lost to time, but she could despair over that if it was proven true. She still had to figure out if she even was a witch-smith first. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Question three….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze shivered. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Figure out what happened down in the sanctum. Why it happened. Asgall seems to know what Vaal and Jehanne were like. He’s the best chance I have.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few minutes of silence passed before she finally reached the end of the stairwell. Her steps began to echo out into the grand hall,  where she could see Maxwell standing at the end, just as they found them when first arriving at the hall. He appeared to be facing Constanze though, having expected her sooner rather than later. Once Constanze had gotten in normal speaking distance, she wasted no time to get things rolling. “I have questions.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I may have answers.” Asgall’s arms were crossed over his chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze kept a firm face, not allowing herself to fall into despair or weakness for the sake of focus. “I want to settle these things now. Can’t stand not knowing what to do about them.” She wanted this to be quick and clean. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Understandably so…. Sit.” A one fingered gesture directed her to a nearby chair, which Constanze quickly pulled over while Asgall remained standing. “Before you ask your questions, I have questions of my own.” Constanze grunted quietly. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Asgall raised a brow in response, being able to sense even the gentlest of changes in a person’s disposition and bodily functions; a sense cultivated after centuries of living with preternatural perception. “If it would please you, I could save them for another time.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” Constanze shook her head twice in rejection of it. She grunted annoyedly once before continuing. “Have to get it over with. It gets worse the longer I wait.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Very well: Firstly, what did you learn about Frararanca?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze looked to Asgall strangely. She was glad that this was hardly a question she expected in terms of subject matter, but befuddled as to why it was important. “Didn’t say. She… helped me calm down. That’s it.” Constanze had seen her use wind magic though, which had her wondering as to the abilities and origin of the Fae woman. “Why did you have to pay her?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That will be revealed in good time.” Asgall pushed past the subject, satisfied with Constanze’s answer. “Lastly, would you want me to continue my search for more information on your bloodline?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Was going to ask you if that was even possible.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As I said, I had only just begun my search before I stumbled upon that ledger. It is likely merely the beginning of a longer legacy.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want to know when it ended.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They never told me anything about this. My parents. Their parents…. My grandpa must have been a witch smith, or at least he… wanted my dad to take over the smithy and learn magic. Family business.” Constanze brought her hands together as she spoke and picked at the little blisters and creases of skin by near nails for lack of a tool to properly keep her anxious mind occupied. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall hummed thoughtfully before he began to languidly pace, his long limbs effortlessly making each step as his upper body was leaned forward and his arms were pressed behind his back. “Naturally, I imagine he did not want the magicks to die with him. Was he successful in passing it on?” Constanze shook her head and shrugged. “So he never taught you, nor did your own father, and yet you took up a talent similar to the craft of your own volition?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It came naturally. Made sense to me. I enjoyed it. I still do.” Constanze looked down at her hands as she picked at them. “Helped me find purpose.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are lucky to be so gifted.” Asgall watched Constanze as he paced. “I shall see to your request, but I must ask: Why is it that you specifically wish to know when your family broke away from the order?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze took a few moments to reply, and could only do so when looking Asgall in the eyes. “I want to know if they hid it from me. I want to know if they were a part of it at some point, but kept it hidden.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your grandparents, I presume?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Very well. I will do what I can, but it is unlikely for a complete record to be present here…. During the second great war our holdings in the Germanian region were stripped bare of everything but the simplest of weapons and accommodations. The records once held there were scattered about to safer places around the world; some were sent here.” Asgall grumbled aggravatedly. “We could not allow the fascists to learn of our secrets. Try as they did, we were able to keep our more dangerous artifacts from them. Not that the allied territories were much safer for witching and Fae kind, but I digress.” A measured set of breaths saw him calm down; clearly, he was easily enraged when thinking of those days. “It will take time, perhaps even years, but I will aid you in recovering those records.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze was frankly surprised by how quickly Asgall took to helping her. Her stalwart expression faltered, allowing genuine relief and hope to shine through. “Mmm?” She asked, if as to confirm his sincerity. When Asgall nodded, Constanze smiled for half of a second, but it was long enough for Asgall to see it. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are most welcome. Now:” Asgall ceased his pacing to face Constanze directly. “Have you more questions?” Constanze raised two fingers in response. “Then ask them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze’s tone was much more urgent when it came to this question. “How can I tell if I’m a witch-smith or not? And if I’m not one, how do I become one? Where do I learn how to become one?” Besides the Balefires records, witch-smithing was the only connection she could have to her family’s legacy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall looked down to the floor a good long while. He was no witch-smith himself, neither was he a witch, not by his own definitions at least, even if he could use some magicks. However, he had seen them working over the centuries, within and without the order. “Were it so easy a question to answer, I would be clear with you, but this matter is one I cannot be certain of.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tell me what a witch-smith is. What makes them different from any other witch. Let’s start there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> is something I can do.” Asgall cleared his throat and rifled through the ancient storages of memory in his mind. “They say Vaal was the first of the witch-smiths, but this is… not entirely accurate, in my honest opinion. She was the first codified witch-smith, one who used the practices passed onto her and humanity by the Dwarven peoples of the Middle Kingdoms, but there were others who came before her…. They could do similar things: Imbue items with permanent enchantments, and mold metals, magical and mundane, in ways that typical smithing techniques would struggle to. Those that came before Vaal, they found their own methods of smithing with magic through curious discovery.” Asgall brought one of his claws to his chin and picked at a nascent scab as he prodded the deeper details of his memory. “Notice how I said </span>
  <em>
    <span>methods</span>
  </em>
  <span> and not method. There are many ways for a witch-smith to conduct their craft; they are bound only by their ingenuity, imagination, and passion. Those are the three key ingredients needed before one even becomes a witch of forge-fires.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze wide-eyedly listened. She had never been one that was terribly interested in history, but this spoke to where she came from, in a way; how her craft came to be. “Do you have examples?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmmm…. Once…. Once I met a woman from Han China, long ago. She lived alone amidst the plains and fields, surviving off of what she grew and from what she sold. She created charms, wards, jewelry to keep away malicious Fae and undead. She was intrigued by me, in part because I could resist her enchantments which… if memory serves, nearly brought me to heel upon approach. They were anathema to me and my kind, but I persisted. I had proven my intentions far from ill, and so she allowed me a brief stay….” Asgall’s gaze turned upward and before he closed his eyes as he became lost in the memories. “She had agreed to show me her craft in exchange for knowledge on how to better repel my kind, and I agreed in turn. She… she danced. She danced and worked; toiled and broiled. It was not unlike the dances I had seen her peoples do, but it was altered to coincide with the rhythm of the labor. An invisible tune, one that I could not parse, yet knew was present, guided her every muscle. Every action was deliberated, until she showed me the finished product: A talisman of iron and bone, formed to make a symbol in her language. From what I could parse, it meant… sleep. Rest. Respite. She took me to the nearby village then and gave it to an ailing old man, one who complained of terrors in his dreams, ones that would not let him sleep. It was her magic that allowed him to overcome that ailment; the talisman brought him rest as though he had never known that which afflicted him.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To Asgall’s surprise, when he lowered his head and opened his eyes, he found Constanze taking notes. “Dancing. What about other ways?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You… you misunderstand, Constanze. There is no singular method to this magic. Witch-smithing as an art is one that is passed down, yes, but not in the academic sense.” Asgall gestured with his hands as he spoke. “Take for example the dancing witch. She had not been taught by Vaal, but yet she was a witch-smith all the same. Let us imagine that she took up an apprentice. She may instruct that apprentice in her methods, show them the dances, the rhythm, the incantations, but ultimately, the apprentice will only be able to learn the basics of the craft from this method of learning. There would come a time when they would need to find their own rhythm, for each smith works to their own tune. Perhaps they too would dance, or perhaps they would remain still, and only hammer or bend in tune, or maybe it would be far more ritualized and require the burning of certain candles at exact moments, but the rule remains in every case: The smith follows the rhythm known only to them; the forge-song, as Vaal called it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze wrote down all that she could, but she felt this “feeling” approach failed to mesh well with her “thinking” brain; she was mathematically logical when it came to her craft, not artistic…. Unless large, bipedal automatons were involved, of course. “Too vague. How could Vaal popularize it if you just have to feel it out for yourself?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The method the Dwarves employed allowed it to be… let’s say more easily transferred between master and apprentice. Vaal had explained it to me once…. She said that the Dwarves use the same method of smithing across their realms, changing it only minutely between the different clans as per their customs. I do not know how they are all able to use the same method, but it has proven consistent between humans as well…. Less so than between Dwarves, but consistent enough that it can be easily innovated to fit their own rhythms.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did my family learn that method? What is it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is likely that one did, but this is where the complexity rears itself once more. Once the method has been passed on to a human, should that human attempt to pass it on in turn, it will deviate further and further for each person it passes to, until the process becomes barely recognizable. Entire family’s will end up forming their own styles, while unrelated persons learning the craft will seek out methods that speak to them best…. It is all very personal. Spiritual may even be a word I use here, though I am not want to use it often…. So you see, even if I could remember the Dwarven method, you would not be able to perform it and get the results you want.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I….” Constanze gripped her pen tightly. “I just work. There’s… there’s a reason for everything I do, but…. Not like that. It’s different. It just… happens?” Oh how she loathed her mutism in moments like this, but she loathed the vagueness of the subject matter far more. “I do what feels right based on what I know.” That’s the best way she could put it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps you have only worked with the more… shall we say, modern implements. The science of electricity and wires. The binary tongue…. Am I correct?” Constanze nodded, seeming embarrassed by this fact for a reason even she wasn’t sure of at that moment. “It was not an accusation, nor is it a sign of ignorance. There were likely those who could do as witch-smiths did long before mundane men smelted iron.” Asgall spread his arms out wide, gesturing to the world. “If there is one universal truth I have come to know in my eternal life, it is that all derives from the magical and the mundane working in tandem. Witch-smithing is merely that; a craft evolved from the intertwining of the arcane and typical energies in the universe. It is a timeless, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>time sensitive</span>
  </em>
  <span> artform…. Perhaps there were smiths making unbreakable spears when mankind first walked upright, and maybe, many millennia into the future, witch-smiths will employ a science inscrutable to us now, and yet they shall bring the primordial force of magic to bear to create just as their ancestors have…. There is no wrong way to be as you are, Constanze.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm….” Constanze let her pen drop against her notepad. She rubbed at her temples and shook her head. “How am I supposed to know what to do though? I’ve been doing what I have for all my life. No family to teach me. No teacher who knows it. Nothing.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall closed his posture back up, returning his arms to be about his chest. “You may have been following the hints of your song, or perhaps you have merely been gifted with a knack for enchanting and engineering. If it is the former, then you need only listen closer, and, as Vaal told me, to the desires of your heart; your emotions will guide your hammer. If it is the latter… then I am unsure where to begin. I can only advise that you ponder on your craft and know why it calls to you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze sighed. “.... Thank you. I’ll try that.” She then lazily made note of Asgall’s final bits of advice. They weren’t useless by any means, but she was beyond knowing how to use them in this exact moment. Besides, she still had one more question to ask, once that had been plaguing her evence since that day in the sanctum. The problem came with asking it unloadedly. “Something… a bunch of weird things happened to me in the sanctum. I need to know why it happened.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If it pertains to Vaal, then I suppose I can offer some insight, but that place was one of legend. It was always rumored to be below one of the Nine Great Schools of magic, but it was never clear which one…. Naturally, stories and myths mixed with the truth of its purpose, and so even if I could remember </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the tales about the sanctum, I would still be likely to speak falsely on it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze went to write out the rest of her words, wanting to give her voice a break for a while. “That’s fine. Just interpret and explain what I tell you about, ok?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As you say.” Then came the long wait on Asgall’s part for Constanze to finish writing up her experiences. She wracked her brain for as many details as she could, hesitating no less than five times on whether or not something she remembered was a false memory or perhaps related to some other event she experienced as of late. Nevertheless, she persisted and succeeded in forming a cohesive narrative timeline of events, and gave enough detail to satisfy any immediate or secondary questions that Asgall might have upon reading it. When he finally had the chance to accept the notepad from Constanze, he was careful not to skip over any of the provided context. He read it twice over even, searching for details in the events that happened later in the series that hinted at the earlier ones. Finally, he lowered the pad and looked to Constanze. “And this is exactly how you remember it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm.” Constanze nodded once, having returned to her anxious scratching and picking in the meantime. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where to begin…. Where to begin….” Asgall rolled his neck and shoulders as he thought. “I will start by saying that I will be ignoring matters regarding that strange plant. I have no knowledge that could explain its actions.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Had a feeling.” Constanze muttered. “Fine. Start with the chains. Maxwell told me Vaal was obsessed with them. Said they were the ‘ties that bind.’ What does that mean? Why was she obsessed?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The chains were always a symbol of kinship to her. When Maxwell said they were the ties that bind, he meant they were the ties that bind one being to another; me to you, you to Amanda, Amanda to Maxwell, and so on. The threads of fate, the events of our lives… the emotional bonds, those are all chains that connect us. Some chains are threadbare, thin, and weak. Some are as iron, having been tested and tried by hardship and victory. Others are nigh unbreakable….” Asgall considered his memories of Vaal and Jehanne. He thought of their sisterly bond and couldn’t help but think of how Amanda had proclaimed herself a sister to Constanze, despite them not sharing any blood. “The bond between you and Amanda, how would you describe it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze looked down to her lap, pulling her hands apart from one another as she formed them into gentle fists. “Sisters.” She looked up then and nodded once. “We’re sisters.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I… am aware, but—” Asgall fumbled with his words as Constanze interjected with a finality to her tone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean it. Nothing could change that. Not after this.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is as I suspected then….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall pushed past what he had said in favor of continuing his questioning. “So if the chains are the bonds between us, literally or otherwise, why do you think they came for you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Constanze grunted once in annoyance, wanting to know what Asgall had meant, but lacking the energy to press him on it. “I asked you to help me figure that out, not the other way around.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall rolled his eyes. “Has no one told you the value in finding the answers for yourself? Matters such as this are not things that I can provide exacts on.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just give me the gist. I’ll figure it out from there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Very well…. The chains may have come for you for many reasons. Given the death of your family however, I believe that it was your grief that called to them.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Grief….” Constanze looked inward, remembering the sufferers; their wretched bodies all chained up in a mass. They were as corpses, yet lived, not as zombies or undead, but as something in between; a thing not dead but not alive, not in the eld sense, but in the spiritual. “The others. They were grieving…. No. No they were… despairing.” Constanze closed her eyes, only to force them open as she saw the flashes of those horrible faces and heard the distant rattling of chains. “She called them Sufferers. What does that mean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is not a term that I am familiar with, not formally. Based on how you describe them here, it is their lot in life to suffer…. But Vaal was not a cruel woman. She would not chain them up against their wills, even after….” He hesitated to say exactly what happened that could have changed it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“After what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “I suppose she told you already, so there is little in harm in being clear.” Asgall read through the second half of the transcription once more to be sure he had it right. “Aye, she told you of her self imposed exile…. No, exile is not the correct term. She fled the world and all of its horrors and flaws in favor of a dark place, a lonesome place. She had cast a spell on the other witches of Olde, and on those such as I, those who were close to her, to erase our memory of her. We were only able to reverse it after Jehanne forced the memories from her mind and reminded us of who she was…. I believe Vaal died down in that place, the dark and lonesome pit and… and she became a Sufferer.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze leaned forward, eager to fill in the gaps. “She said only part of her was a Sufferer. She was saved. Jehanne saved her. So that means being a Sufferer….” Her voice faltered when she considered her own context, and why Vaal had warned her. “It means you died alone.” She dug out the poem from her pocket. She was beginning to understand it now, but wanted to ensure she did. “Read this. Tell me what it says. I need to know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?” Asgall set aside the notepad before reaching out to scan the poem. “This is… in her handwriting. Yes, she always favored the ancient ways of writing the Lunar script, even after Marciane communed with the Moon and learned the truths of its wisdom.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you read it?” Constanze urged. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course. Mankind used the ancient form for much longer than the olde form.” Asgall clacked his teeth together as he prepared his voice to read it as it was seemingly intended to be, in a sort of ritual chant: “Bound we are, to the brotherhoods of life. Our form, a cold harness; we are iron, our bodies are beset. Someday we will fall and on others we must crawl, and it is then when we forget why we march at all. Past the screaming, past the sorrows, the memories we must carry on. With our suffering, reason to live is found again. Be at one with the chains. At one with the world. Bear the burden of living well. Let they who have no chains weep, for theirs is the unmourned fate.” Afterward, he handed it back to Constanze. “Does that reveal what you sought?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That isn’t how I remembered it….” Constanze reread it. Certain words just seemed wrong to her. The word “life” was changed for “flesh,” for example, which, now that she looked at it, the version Asgall spoke of seemed much more positive and sensible compared to the grim and confusing form she once thought true. “You said this is ancient Lunar script?” Asgall nodded once. “I… may have mistranslated it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You cannot be blamed for that. Vaal was… terribly stubborn when it came to her conduct.” Asgall shook his head, half smiling as he thought of better times. “She was the one I was closest to, of the Nine. It was difficult to handle her disappearance once my memories had been returned….” Warrily, he held out his claws. “Might I keep that poem? It reminds me of brighter things.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y-Yeah.” Constanze didn’t hesitate, but she felt uneasy from how the poem applied to her. The parallels were staggering: She had thought of running away once this was all done. Hiding away with Sucy and Amanda, or maybe just going alone to some place where no one could find her. the fact that Amanda was her sister now. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Convenient.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>As always. She wasn’t sure she hated that aspect as much though. It meant that Vaal really did have her best interest at heart. Someone was looking out for her even when she felt all alone, and now that she had Sucy and Amanda— </span>
  <em>
    <span>“But I always had them. And Jasminka. Lotte. Akko. Blue team.... What the hell was I doing? What the hell was I thinking?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She held her head gently with both hands, prompting Asgall to frown sympathetically. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ancient as he was, and vampiric as his nature, he had been adamant about preserving his humanity, even before his self sentencing. “I will not pry if you do not wish it, but know that as you are welcome here. I had implored Maxwell to go out and seek his kind, and while I cannot simply give you all that we have, I will not turn you away.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know.” Constanze sighed. “I know….” Her somber tone remained, though the future seemed a bit brighter now. She was angry at herself above all else, but she knew that she could get past that immediate suffering. What lingered would be the devastation left by the Bathorys and those weird witches. The wounds her family left on her long ago, and the wounds of their unexpected departure, a preamble to deeper cuts to come. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“If I wasn’t sure before….Then I’m sure now.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> There was only one thing left to do. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Time to take up that torch.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Stand up, and fight! “Asgall.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If I survive this, I’m joining.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The order, you mean?” Asgall was much more reserved in his response, Constanze could tell he was excited by the prospect. She nodded in response. Asgall slowly grinned. “Before he had gone away, do you know what Maxwell said to me?” Constanze flat awaited the answer, looking determined as she clenched the bottom of her navy jacket in both hands. “If he could find just one witch, one young sorcerer with fire in their blood, then perhaps they would hold the strength to rekindle our flame.” Asgall turned about to grab the notepad and hand it back to Constanze. “So, what say you, Constanze Amalie Von Braunschbank-Albrechtsberger? Do you think you and Amanda have that strength?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze took a deep breath before nodding. “I think we have—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We abso-fuckin-lutely have that strength!” Amanda called out as she entered from a nearby passageway with her hands clasped behind her head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Schwester!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahh. I had thought I sensed you….” Asgall chuckled, though his laughter sounded more like a low bestial purr accompanied by the clacking of his teeth. “I take it you have thrown in with us as well then?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damn straight. Especially if Constanze is in.” Amanda gave Constanze a thumbs up and wink. “I got promises to keep, and we got vampires to stake.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze felt her spirit soar at the sight of her dearest sister. She returned the signature thumbs up before she got out of the chair. The two witches met in the middle then, embracing each other warmly. She whispered. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Heh, don’t mention it.” Amanda enjoyed their heartfelt moment for a little while longer before they naturally broke away. Then her eyes turned up to Asgall. “You said you’d have those trials ready by tonight, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye. The preparations are already under way.” And hopefully Frararanca wouldn’t give it away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m headed out then. Maxwell said I should get a lay of the land…. You wanna come, sis?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze nodded firmly. “Mhm!” They both had a bit of catching up to do; a lot had happened in just a morning’s time. A walk about the highlands would do them both good, in body, mind, and heart. They would not speak much on the problems that still ailed them though, for both would agree that the trials to come would reveal more than what words could. All that was left was to prepare for those tests, that the Balefire might shine brightly again.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><hr/><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Trialed By Fire | To Hate Another</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>NEARLY 80 PAGES IN A G DOC! There's a lot of content here for you all! Sorry it took so long, but given the length, I think you can imagine why it took me two weeks to write this. Nevertheless, it's here now! Enjoy! </p><p>Tumblr: https://karmotrinedreams91.tumblr.com/</p><p>Question: Should I make a twitter to promote this fic? Comment or send me asks on tumblr if you think I should. I'll be asking there too.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The afternoon to evening airs had been pleasant for both Constanze and Amanda. They had been broombound for several hours now, having reconnoitered the surroundings lands and gone for a junk run in the nearby town. Given all that was happening in the world, no one noticed two witches scurrying off from the dump with some transmuted metals; Constanze had need of them for a few of her preparations. </p><p> </p><p>All the while, the two sisters had been going back and forth on their decisions. Amanda was still holding to her deal with Maxwell, but even if the fire inside of her turned out to be nothing but just a strange and otherwise unnoteworthy thing, she was still likely to join the order, if only to be close to Constanze; working for a while within only a day-or-so’s flight from where Hannah and Barbara were setting up shop didn’t sound bad either.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze had also divulged what she learned and what spurred her to join. Amanda wasn’t really sure how to handle it at first, but she was glad Constanze seemed to have a direction to go down once all of this was over. She’d find the lost history of her family and hopefully find peace in working to rebuild their legacy. Before worrying about that though, they’d need to figure out how Constanze was going to repair Dyrnwyn and Carnwennan. And before <em> that </em> they still had to actually earn those weapons. </p><p> </p><p>They’d just landed at the beacon to start that exact process: Asgall would have prepared the trials by now, and was expecting an answer on what they had chosen, assuming Maxwell didn’t tell him already. The witches dismounted their brooms with a tired sigh, hoping that after this, they’d have the rest of the night to catch their breaths and prepare for the specifics of these trials. Before the blue flame of the beacon. Amanda gave Constanze a soft smile and a gesture of the head that signaled toward the way down. “You ready?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmm.” Constanze nodded once before they both began down the stairwell. “Asgall said these were the trials all hunters faced, right?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda idly replied, keeping a forward look. “I think so…. Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“Convenient.” For the first time in recent memory, Constanze was using that term positively. “That we’re planning on joining that is. Two birds, one stone.” </p><p> </p><p>“It makes sense though. Dunno how else they’d test us outside of making something up on the spot.” And Amanda wasn’t about to deal with some rough-shod “test” of her abilities. She had come to greater terms with the lethality of what they faced and knew they needed to properly be tried. “Hell, even if we clean sweep these tests, I… I don’t think we can just run off guns blazing to go save the school yet.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t think we’ll be ready?” Constanze asked, less sure that they would be, and more curious on how they wouldn’t be. </p><p> </p><p>“Not… exactly. I dunno…. I think we need to make sure we really got a strong group with us. I don’t wanna lead a buncha witches who aren’t ready for a fight right into a freakin’ war zone.” The uncomfortable truth, or rather, the self perpetuated truth, of her own inadequacy was present too. “And… I need to get used to those magical swords before I’m really confident about anything. Sounds like they’ll take some getting used to; Carnnie-non at least, or whatever it’s called.”</p><p> </p><p>“Carnwennan.” Constanze corrected with a chuckle. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, that one.” Amanda adjusted the slung-over broom on her back as they went down the slightly curving stairs, nearing the bottom. “What about you? I know you didn’t really feel like you needed any of the weapons down in the armory, but what about all your gadgets and gizmos? Didn’t you have to leave most of ‘em behind?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmmmhmm….” Constanze joylessly grunted. “Resourceful. I’ll figure that out later.” At the least, Constanze was glad that Maxwell had already given her the go ahead to use any spare materials they likely had stowed away down in the collapsed forge. They’d need to un-collapse it first, of course, and they’d have time for that after the trials; were it so easy. </p><p> </p><p>A minute or so passed in quiet when finally the duo entered the grand hall once more. To their surprise, they saw the sets of candles on the long tables had all been lit with blue flames, while the rest of the tabletops had been cleaned and cleared entirely. The U shaped path toward the great stone doors marked with the sigil of the order was opened up to allow a clear way up toward a small raised section of the stonework; an altar of sorts. Asgall, or at least a robed figure who the sister witches presumed was Asgall given the figure’s height and the inordinately wide frame beneath the cloak, stood behind it, while another robed figure, who was clearly Maxwell, adorned as he was earlier that day, proceeded toward them with some haste. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda and Constanze paused and shot each other equally puzzled looks before stepping to meet Maxwell somewhere in the middle. “Everything alright?” Constanze asked curiously. </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell spoke through a bit of panting as he slowed to a halt from his power-walk. “There you are! Finally!” He wiped his forehead with his left arm while the right held his staff up. “You’re not late, but we were speaking and… thought…. Phew. These bones aren’t what they used to be.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda cocked her head. “You… good there?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes! Perfect, actually. Just a wee bit frantic.” A heavy huff and puff saw Maxwell back to his normal self, and he continued while adjusting his raggedy hat. “Me and Asgall were thinkin’ that since you’re both interested in joining and given these trials <em> are </em> the ones you’d need to pass to become a full member anyway, we might as well do the proper ceremony too.” </p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm….” Constanze grunted as she looked down at herself before pulling out her notepad to reply in written form. It had been a long day; she was running short on the mental energy she needed to vocalize her thoughts over writing them. “You could’ve warned us. We’re not exactly dressed for a ritual right now.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda held her forehead in her right palm. “Oh don’t tell me we need to spend <em> hours </em> preparing for this now.” </p><p> </p><p>“Not to worry!” Maxwell smiled reassuringly. “We knew that we didn’t have all the old trappings lying about to do this by the book, but we can get close enough. It’s a short affair, really.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why though?” Constanze wrote out and underlined.</p><p> </p><p>“To warm the hearts of two ‘old as dust’ lads who haven’t known any other comrades in decades.” Maxwell said as if joking, which he was, but only partially. “And, since you mentioned it Amanda, I thought that maybe if we did this ritual correctly enough, maybe it would have some sort of effect on the fire inside of you.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze looked to Amanda who hummed curiously, rolling her head from left to right as she considered the prospect. “Hmmmm…. Yeah, I guess that makes sense. You’ve gotta bring me to that Balefire anyway; may as well do it the way Jehanne and Vaal intended.” If they intended it at all. “So what do we have to do?” </p><p> </p><p>“First, put these on.” Maxwell rummaged through his cloak to produce two folded sets of old dark-grey robes. The stitchwork in some areas seemed to suggest they were only repaired recently, which likely meant earlier that day while Constanze and Amanda were away. With a small blink of magical light from his staff then, Maxwell also conjured up two hats of matching color to the robes with long, sharp brims, and a tall stovepipe shape in the center; much like the ones the skeletal hunters wore down in the sanctum. “It’ll be easier without your jackets, but they should fit fine over your regular clothes.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze and Amanda accepted them curiously and gave them a more detailed look over. Closer inspection revealed the robes to in fact be thick coats that reached all the way down to just a foot or so above the ankle. They were wholly open in the front with a wide, sharply angled collar meant to be held together just below the neck by an adjustable iron chain. The sharp angles of the collar came in the form of flaps that extended up and out, appearing vaguely reminiscent of fantastical Victorian dress. Though appearing innocuous in construction, Constanze was keen enough to notice the faint magical aura the coats had. “Enchanted?”</p><p> </p><p>“Aye. They’re no replacement for real armor, but if you fancy wearin’ ‘em into battle, they’re particularly heat resistant and work well to soften blunt force.” Maxwell urged them with a nod and growing smile. “We use 'em for ceremonial purposes too; so go on! Let’s see how they suit ye.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t mind if I do!” Amanda kinda liked the look of these threads already, though she wasn’t sure how good a hat like that would look on her. Eagerly, she set aside the leather jacket she was previously wearing and threw on the hunter’s garb. She spun around on one heel, putting as much extra effort into this simple outfit change as she could. In one fluid motion, she slipped the coat around her body before bringing both of her hands up to fasten the chain below the collar, securing the coat in place. She finished the stylish flourish with a single handed motion of putting the hat atop her head while her head was partially downcast, just to see how it might look. Upon lifting her gaze up, she grinned coyly. “Howdy.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze blankly stared at Amanda during her display. “It's on backwards.”</p><p> </p><p>“W-Wha—!?” Amanda quickly looked down and then up, realizing the hat was facing the wrong way. With a quick turn of the piece, it was properly adorned. “Ahem…. Howdy.” Constanze palmed her face and groaned before turning to her own jacket.</p><p> </p><p>Maxwell joyously laughed and wrapped his staff once against the stone. “It’s perfect for you, Amanda!” </p><p> </p><p>“Even the hat? You got a mirror?” Maxwell produced a magically reflective surface in the air with his staff at Amanda’s request. She looked into the mirror while turning about and posing variably. “Not bad, not bad…. Maybe <em> not </em>the hat but…. Hmmm. It works, but… I don’t wanna hide my hair, you know?” She’d wear the hat for the ceremony, at least.</p><p> </p><p>Meanwhile, Constanze examined the set of clothes more strangely. This… was not her look, but she wouldn’t put up much of a fuss. It was meant to be traditional, and primarily for ceremony, so she’d simply return it once they were finished here. After gingerly setting aside her navy coat, she threw her arms into the sleeves and wrapped it around herself. It was surprisingly warm, but it just didn’t feel very right; a bit too stiff and stuffy in various parts, and it wasn’t exactly a perfect cut for her flat and small frame, but it was likely the smallest they had. </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell clapped his hands once. “Excellent! Ah! I’ve not been this excited since my own initiation ceremony!”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not awful.” Constanze’s flat tone implied that it could definitely be better.</p><p> </p><p>“It ain’t a bad look on you, sis.” Amanda encouraged, though she knew Constanze well enough to be certain that this was <em> not </em> her kind of outfit. </p><p> </p><p>“Anyways.” Constanze adjusted the hat awkwardly, as it didn’t properly fit her head, and then wrote out her next response. “Anything else we need to do?”</p><p> </p><p>Maxwell beckoned them to follow as he spoke; he didn’t wanna keep Asgall waiting much longer. “You’ll be asked a few questions,” He began, and in turn, Amanda and Constanze joined him. “It may seem a bit strange, but you’ll be introducing yourselves and will have to say why you’re joining. Then you’ll need to swear on a few things; oaths all members of the order agree to. After that, you’ll be marked with a circle on the back of your right hand.” </p><p> </p><p>“Like that tattoo you got?” Amanda queried.</p><p> </p><p>“Aye, but we’ve no-one skilled with inking in the traditional sense, so Asgall will use some of his magicks to create a temporary mark; he’ll get rid of it later when we have a chance to get you proper tattoos.” Maxwell cleared his throat. “Assuming you’re alright with that. It was more a tradition the Caledonian Balefire held to; other holds had their own customs.” </p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine with it.” Amanda nodded. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze curtly spoke. “The mark’s fine. Talk about the tattoo another time.” She wasn’t sure she cared for ink on her body, though she wasn’t terribly averse to the thought. The idea of sitting through a lengthy tattooing session with a needle being put to the back of her hand specifically though, that was quite disconcerting to imagine. </p><p> </p><p>“Great.” Maxwell nodded firmly, his eyes cast forward. “Lastly, once you’ve said all you need to, Asgall will tell you about the trials, and you’ll need to tell him what you’re vying for. Got it?” A grunt of agreement from both of the witches behind him kept that smile of his wide as they came to be about twenty feet from the altar where the cloaked Asgall stood. “You two do me proud. Now go on and make history.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda couldn’t help but smile by infection at Maxwell’s sentiment. <em> “Make history eh?” </em> She thought as her and Constanze slipped past him, walking dutifully to the base of the altar. <em> “Wish Wangari and co were here. They’d be over the moon to document somethin’ like this.” </em> Amanda wished <em> all </em> of her friends and family were here for this. These were desperate times however, and so the trappings of tradition would serve only to boost morale in the face of such terrible foes. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze remained more glumly faced throughout the proceedings. Her mind became eerily quiet to start. The thought of walking in the footprints of her forebears was daunting to say the least; the direness of the situation made that shouldered weight all the heavier. She thought of what brought the first of her ancestors to join the Balefire to do as they did. She didn’t even know their name, let alone when they lived; the questions filled her mind nonetheless. <em> “I just hope they’re proud of me. For once.” </em>Regardless if she needed their approval or not, Constanze hoped her familys’ ghosts looked to her favorably, as if that would protect her, if not in body, then in heart. </p><p> </p><p>The altar stood before them on a small rise with Asgall standing behind it. His arms were crossed in an X about his chest, as though he were coffin bound, his visage was hidden by shadows, eyes downcast. Slowly, his statuesque pose opened up: He spread his left arm out first, and so the left torch beside the altar became lit. Then he did the same with the right, and a rightward flame followed. Then his gaze turned up, his eyes opened intentionally, already set upon Constanze and Amanda with a deadpan seriousness. Upon the altar before him lay an olde and iron-bound book. An ink quill was positioned to its left while a ceremonial lance and hammer were positioned to the right. “Gathered before me, in the halls aflame, our Balefire witnesses two souls.” His intonations were deliberate, cold, and booming, echoing down the hall as if aided by a microphone despite lacking such tools. “Approach, travellers, and identify yourselves. Let our flames know your names.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda and Constanze both stepped forward. They exchanged silently, gentle looks. Amanda was given the go ahead to speak first. Amanda took another three steps forward, up to about halfway on the steps leading to the altar. She was quiet at first, pursing her lips, unsure of what to say. <em> “God I wish they let us do a dress rehearsal first!” </em> Here went nothing: “My name is Amanda O’Neill. I’m from… Austin Texas.”</p><p> </p><p>Asgall’s arms slowly lowered; his left claw gently held the quill in the inkwell. “What force spurs you to act, Amanda O’Neill of Austin Texas? Why have you chosen to stand and fight in the Balefire’s light?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda took a careful breath. She never was the best at staying very serious during these kinds of things, especially back at Luna Nova. Where others may have come with prepared speeches or statements, Amanda simply spoke from the heart. “I’m here to prove myself. I’m fighting for my family, my real family; the people who love me, and who I love back. They’re all in danger, and they need my help.” Amanda thumbed to herself. “Ever since I started wandering, I’ve lived every moment of my life doing what I think is right,” The thumb pointed at her chest turned to a palm over where her heart relatively lay. “And I’m going to fight with the Balefire for that same reason; it’s what I need to do. It’s what’s going to help me make this world just that much better. And it’s going to help me protect the ones I care about most. That’s why I’m here.” </p><p> </p><p>Asgall clicked his teeth together once before fervently writing every single word down, to the letter, that Amanda spoke. That, along with her name and place of origin, would be marked in the Balefire of Caledonia’s ledger, a collection of every member who has ever joined, their reason for fighting, and if applicable, the circumstances which ended their allegiance; most of the prior entries listed some form of death or maiming as the cause. Once Asgall had completed his transcription, he spoke. “You are recognized in name and purpose, Amanda O’Neill. Now, come forth and declare your method: How will you serve the peoples of this world and beyond? How will you keep the flame of the Balefire burning?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda stepped up to be right across from Asgall at the top of the altar. She swallowed back a hint of nervousness. Maxwell hadn’t told her about this part, but speaking from the heart had felt right so far, so she’d stick to that. “I’ve fought tons of different monsters and angry Fae, and every time I’ve come out on top. I traveled and worked to solve magical problems in this crazy mundane world for everyone’s benefit. I’ve helped people re-learn what it means to live in a magical world, and helped all kinds of Fae adjust to what the world’s become over all these years. I’m here to do just that: Protect all the people of the world, Fae and human alike. I’ll square up with anyone and anything to do that.” </p><p> </p><p>Another pause followed while Asgall considered her words; the decision was ultimately obvious. “Yours is the hunter’s way. May your wand and blade be guided by the knowledge of those who hunted before you, and may your prey fear your approach.” He set aside the quill then and handed Amanda the ceremonial lance. “Jehanne, first and greatest hunter of the order: Look upon this initiate favorably.” Amanda accepted the lance and held it horizontally in front of them. Asgall continued. “Blunt the heads of arrows sent her way. Dull the edges of swords thrust toward her. Fizzle the magicks of sorcerers who incant with wicked intent, that their hexes might never vex her.” Asgall then muttered something in Lunar tongue as if calling on the spirit of Jehanne, though nothing visibly changed in the room to denote that it had worked. He held his claws to the ceiling and spoke loudly with finality. “Let her cause be as just as your own, Huntmaster of Olde! May she deliver those she aids to safety. May she bring them succor and wisdom. Above all, may she bring them hope and inspiration, that they might take up arms themselves! The peoples united cannot be defeated!”  With that final declaration, Asgall set his claws palm-down against the altar. “Initiate: Give me your right hand.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda examined her unmarred right hand. She held it up to the light of the nearby torches before holding it out stiffly, splaying her fingers in a wide array. Asgall took her hand in kind with surprising care. “Will this hurt?” She whispered, knowing the big-eared bat-man could hear her. Asgall paused briefly before nodding hesitantly. Amanda grit her teeth and held the ceremonial lance tightly in her left hand, preparing her body for the pain. </p><p> </p><p>Asgall brought his free claw to hover over Amanda’s outstretched hand. His pupils quickly dilated and contracted for a brief moment as he spoke the words of a Far Lunar tongue. <em> “Hyrs Fullankhna…. Tor Hiibross….” </em> Up close, Amanda could see his throat throng and vibrate; his voice was like nothing she had heard before, but strangely, it was <em> soothing </em> . It was almost lullaby or trance like. <em> “Gheruum Altrier…. Hyrs Altrier….” </em> As the first His incants rang out, Amanda saw a dark crimson mass begin to form in his gaunt palm. Beneath the flesh, some sort of fluid was bulging, until the old skin split open neatly, revealing some sort of blood like substance, though Amanda knew better than to say it <em> was </em> blood, for she truly didn’t know. The strange oozing fluid dripped out, but not onto Amanda’s hand. </p><p> </p><p>First, it gathered in a swirling orb between the two’s hands until all of the liquid had left the wound Asgall made in his own claw; that same wound healed only moments later. The incantations continued, maintaining that calming feel throughout, despite the droning, guttural utterings required. Then the orb of dark crimson fluid became cone shape, or rather, it sprouted a sort of appendage reminiscent of a crustacean’s leg, though lacking the detail of such an appendage. The long, needle sharp edge of the appendage extended outward and down to the back of Amanda’s hand. That’s when the pain started; sharp, acute, burning almost. It wasn’t unbearable, but it was certainly uncomfortable. She reflexively gripped a fist, and was glad that Asgall had been holding her arm steady given the seemingly surgical nature of this process. Speaking to that surgical quality was the perfectly circular cut that was left:</p><p> </p><p>The appendage of crimson fluid had marked the flesh, but had cut only so deep as to leave it fine and red colored, yet it drew no blood. It’s precision was laser like, and once it had finished, the appendage retreated, the orb ascended, and Asgall completed the incant as it began, <em> “Hyrs Fullankhna…. Tor Hiibross.” </em>And closed his claw into a fist around the rising orb, disappearing whatever it was back into his body. Slowly, he retracted both of his claws before speaking in a more familiar tongue. “Let this be the beginning of your journey, Amanda. A circle, unbroken as Vaal’s chains, binding you to your duties and your loved ones.” With a solemn nod, he gestured for Amanda to step back to where Constanze stood. “May the second initiate come forth.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda pulled her arm back and gave the crimson circle a careful look over before she felt Constanze’s hand gently touch her back. Amanda gave her sister an encouraging, silent look, and collapsed her on the shoulder as she turned to retreat down the steps back to where she had previously stood. Constanze watched Amanda depart away from the altar with a firm but mixed expression. She was glad to be standing there, and she was ready to embark on this mission, for her loved ones and for herself, but she felt this day was not as bright as Maxwell and Asgall may claim. This was a path Constanze had only been set down by tragedy and bloodshed. Hundreds of innocent souls had been snuffed out, torn from their mortal coils in manners so violent as to be nightmarish. This order, no matter how great, good, and grand it was, was a thing hidden from her, discovered only by the impetus of vengeance and desperation. She was proud of herself, and happy to learn the secrets of her family’s past, but she could never ignore the fact that they were just that, secrets; lies by omission. </p><p> </p><p>As her eyes turned to look to the patiently awaiting Asgall, stood as she was about halfway up to the altar, Constanze remembered the words of the poem Vaal had given her; the true words: <em> “Someday we will fall and on others we must crawl, and it is then when we forget why we march at all.” </em> She began to take shaky, but determined steps up to the altar. <em> “We’ve been falling and crawling this whole time. It’s been one disaster after another.” </em> Her eyes closed as she continued, and in the time between seconds, she ran through the past few weeks in memory. <em> “Ludinghal. The weird witches. The dome. The sanctum. The attack. And now this.” </em> And thus began the ritual proper, even as her mind continued to focus on the poem and the memories of family, in blood and bond, pain and love. </p><p> </p><p>“Identify yourself, traveller. Let our flames know your name.” Asgall began. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze slowly opened her eyes. <em> “With our suffering, reason to live is found again.” </em> Things didn’t happen for any grander purpose; by no divine will is pain wrought. Constanze knew these truths as self evident. What she had come to learn from this though was that despite the unthinking, uncaring universe, infinite and terrible, there is purpose to be found within that madness. She thought of how she translated the poem before. <em> “At one with the chains. At one with the pain.” </em> The word pain in particular; she compared it to the proper translations. <em> “Be at one with the chains. At one with the world.” </em> Yes, she understood now that her translation, in that instance, was correct, but she lacked the context of Vaal’s own psychology. There was pain in the world. There will always be pain in the world. Thus, the world is pain. <em> “But it’s more than that.” </em> Constanze blew a soft, cold breath to the air; she could see it clearly. Her vocal chords prepared themselves for one final push that day. There would be time for rest afterward, she needed to say this aloud. Her fists became clenched by her sides. She was ready. “I am Constanze Amalie Von Braunschbank-Albrechtsberger. I am from Ludinghal Germany, but that place is gone now.” Constanze felt her voice crack and ache. Through the emotional pain, she maintained a cold and composed gaze, and kept her tone fierce but tempered. </p><p> </p><p>Asgall’s stoicism was matched by Constanze’s own stonewalledness. “What force spurs you to act, Constanze Amalie Von Braunschbank-Albrechtsberger of Ludinghal Germany? Why have you chosen to stand and fight in the Balefire’s light?”</p><p> </p><p>The truth was fire on Constanze’s voice, yet her breath was colder than the vacuum. “I’m here to get revenge. Not just on the Bathorys, who destroyed my home, but on my own deceased family.” Asgall raised a brow, but did not interrupt; it was not his place to. Amanda similarly was taken aback, though Maxwell comforted her with a hand upon her shoulder, and a reassuring nod. They listened intently. “They’ve hidden this from me: The Balefire. Our history. They had to have known. But they said nothing.” Constanze paused to ease the grip of her whitening knuckles. “They hurt me alot, but I’m not after the same kind of revenge that the Bathorys deserve. I’m going to uncover that buried history. I’m going to fulfill my dreams, even if I barely knew what I wanted until recently: I want to be a witch-smith. I want to use that power to help people. I want to rebuild this broken order. This broken world.” Her fingers went limp, trembling ever so slightly. “I’m going to be what my family wouldn’t tell me about; what they never wanted me to become: Myself.” Constanze then raised her right hand to eye level and examined it in a near mechanical fashion, even as it shook. “Even if they’re proud now, if they can see me, they need to know I’m not doing this for them. I’m doing this for everyone, myself included.” Her open right hand became a more controlled fist. Her stare was as hard as iron, as piercing as daggers. “That is why I’m fighting, and it is how I will fight. I will become a witch-smith and rebuild the order, brick by brick.” </p><p> </p><p>Asgall hummed lowly, like a purring tiger. There was a clear weight to each of Constanze’s words that slowed his writing as he began to transcribe them in perfect detail. One would think that the written word could do Constanze’s sincerity no true justice, that it couldn’t capture the emotion behind the vocalizations, but Asgall did his damndest to do just that. “You are recognized in name, purpose, and method, Constanze Amalie Von Braunschbank-Albrechtsberger. Yours is the way of the sorcererous forge; the witch-smith’s path.” He reached for the hammer then, a gleaming tool of olde construction, and handed it to Constanze who accepted it with her left hand. “May your tools, beating against steel and stone, echo through these hallowed halls, adding to the orchestra of forge songs sung before your own. Vaal, finest of the witch-smiths, mother to the monstrous and dispossessed: Look upon this initiate favorably.” His arms were held upward once more. “Sharpen the edges of all weapons wrought from her labor. Make timeless the machines she creates, that rust might never claim them. Strengthen her chains, her ties that bind her with what she holds dear. Let them hold forevermore!” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze, between Asgall’s ritual declarations, looked back to Amanda and Maxwell. <em> “They’ll never break.” </em> She gave them a nod. <em> “I can’t let them.” </em></p><p> </p><p>Asgall finished muttering his Lunar incants, calling on the spirit of Vaal just as he did with Jehanne. His voice boomed, once more, with finality. “May her craft be as immaculate as yours, great Forgemaster of Olde! May her works aid the broken and the destitute, that they might know the comforts of a home once more. May her enchantments bring the warmth of the forge not only to the bodies of the frigid, but to the hearts of the forgotten. Above all, may her manufactured pieces arm the peoples of this world, that they might do battle against those which come in the name of wrath and greed; hate and pride. May those who wield her works be empowered with the force of ten men; may they defy the swords and shields of human and Faekinds’ enemies! The peoples united cannot be defeated!” Once more, he set his claws down against the altar, the clap of said motion bringing silence to the room for a brief moment. “Initiate: Give me your right hand.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze didn’t even consider hesitating. <em> “Past the screaming, past the sorrows, the memories we must carry on.” </em> The words of the poem came now in her voice. Asgall wasted no time in beginning his work, and as he did so, Constanze was numb to the pain. Her mind was elsewhere; Ludinghal. She scoured her mind for the quaintest of memories that place held. The stores she’d stop by after school. The neighbor’s cat that favored her for her generous treat-giving. The quiet, serene forests that surrounded the town. There was peace to be had amidst the hell that was her childhood. Now there was ash. There was the memory of people being burnt alive, torn in half. Not even witnesses were safe from the Bathory's wrath; Nikolai knew nothing of mercy. <em> “I won’t show him any.” </em> </p><p> </p><p>A minute passed: The circle was complete. “Let this be the beginning of your journey, Constanze. A circle, unbroken as Vaal’s chains, binding you to your duties and your loved ones.” Asgall retracted the vampiric magicks with finality, gesturing for Constanze to join Amanda at the foot of the altar. Once she had done so, he continued, outstretching his arms once more like a grand orator. “In the eyes of the olde and new, Fae, fair, and fel, mortal and beyond, I witness you now, Amanda O’Neill, and Constanze Amalie Von Braunschbank-Albrechtsberger, as initiates of the order. Our fire is yours.” A few moments of silence followed. Normally, there would be clapping and cheering, but only two besides the sister-witches were present, and the night was dark indeed. The flame, not just within Amanda now, but within Constanze too, one spurred to existence by vengeance and determination, burned solemnly in that would-be crypt. They would be the first flames to stance against the long shadows Bathory and her brood cast. “Now...” Asgall rumbled back to life after a minute’s peace. “Comes the matter of your trials. You had come here seeking the aid of our finest weapons before you came as initiates. It is only fitting now, as marked initiates, that you see to these trials all the same. But first,” Asgall rounded the altar, holding his claws behind his back, his posture now more casually hunched, as if that was easier on his olde bones. “I would hear what you have chosen as your reward.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze looked to Amanda and gave her a thumbs up with her marked hand. Amanda smiled softly. “We’re fighting for Dyrnwyn and Carnwenann.”</p><p> </p><p>Asgall appeared to return the smile. “The twin ivories?” Amanda nodded confidently. “It is only fitting…. Those were the very blades used to end the Bathory’s reign of blood centuries ago.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze nudged Amanda with her shoulder to get her attention as she wrote down a statement for her; her voice really needed a break now.  Amanda turned her head suddenly, caught off guard, but read it quickly. “One of my ancestors probably used them.” Amanda raised her brow as the realization from her earlier conversations with Constanze caught up with her. “It’s only right that you use them now, sister.” The held up notepad was then lowered, revealing a genuinely somber smile; a tear or two threatened to break free. Constanze was happy, but there was a lot of baggage that came with that joy. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda sniffled. “C’mon man, don’t do that to me….” She muttered before wiping her nose nonchalantly. Amanda then turned her head back to Asgall. “All the more reason to fight for ‘em!”</p><p> </p><p>“Then you will need to face, and overcome, three trials:” Asgall held up one of his claws, bound tightly in a fist. He counted off the trials by raising one finger. “First, you will be tasked with capturing a foe most elusive. Hunters and smiths of the order all face magical hazards, and must be prepared to overcome all kinds of strange and esoteric foes.” As he spoke, a particularly hazy and dense cloud, no larger than a pumpkin, snuck up from behind Asgall and rested above his head. “Furthermore, even as we call our actions by the words of the hunt, we are not murderers. Where life can be preserved, monstrous or otherwise, it must be. The task I have prepared for you will require you to entrap and retrieve a powerful and cunning F—”</p><p> </p><p>“THAT’S ME!” Frararanca poofed into existence on Asgall’s head, dispersing the cloud, and revealing blue form. She posed with jubilance, her limbs splayed out as if to have her be the literal star of the show. Her magical glee was only cut short by Asgall’s annoyed star coming from below. “Don’t get snippy with me, little bat, you said I could!”</p><p> </p><p>And now Asgall regretted making such concessions. “.... Powerful and cunning Fae….” He repeated drolly. Maxwell had to force a cough to mask his desire to laugh.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda’s head was cocked nearly ninety degrees to the side. She <em> really </em> wasn’t expecting this. “Uhhh, sorry to ruin the serious vibe, but who the fuck is that?” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze confusedly wrote out a reply to Amanda, levitating it up in front of her. “I think Frararanca already ruined it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Frararanca?”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s my name!” The Fae in question did a little spin and dancing step on Asgall’s head, to his increasing annoyance. She finished the twirl with a more gentlemanly bow in the direction of the two sisters. “Lovely to meet you both this fine evening! I’ll be your wondrously whimsical and fiendishly fickle foe come tomorrow!” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda put her head back into order, squinting at Frararanca as she tried to figure out what kind of Fae she was. <em> “She’s a bit too small to be a Sprite…. A little too human looking to be a Pixie. She’s DEFINITELY not a Puck.” </em> The exact specification evaded her for now, but hopefully not for long. Trying to catch a Fae you didn’t understand was just asking for a bad time. “Nice to, uh, meet you too.” A quick two fingered salute accompanied her greeting. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze waved with loose familiarity, though she hadn’t exactly expected Frararanca to be a part of the challenges; she supposed it explained Asgall’s annoyance at her appearance earlier that day. She wrote a quick message. “So our first trial is to catch Frararanca?” </p><p> </p><p>Asgall grunted in agreement before flicking Frararanca off of his own head. “As I was saying—”</p><p> </p><p>Frararanca spiralled in the air, sent away by the flick. “O-Ow! Hey! Rude!” She yelled as she reoriented herself mid flight.</p><p> </p><p>“Saying…. Your second trial will require you to protect and escort a defenseless target. Maxwell shall set up the parameters of the challenge, but know that you will be harried by more than just one foe. Many Fae and magical beings native to this land will be roused to attack you. While they will not intend to kill you, do not expect to be treated lightly. I ask only that you give them the same respect; a worthy fight, but not a bloodbath.”</p><p> </p><p>“Simple enough.” Amanda remarked idly while removing her hat, finding it felt a bit too stiff for her to wear for long; Constanze had long since abandoned hers anyway. </p><p> </p><p>“Complacency is the first step toward failure, Amanda.” Asgall snappily instructed. “Now, listen well. The third trial is the most important, but it is also one that we may lack the time to complete in the traditional sense….” He lowered his raised claws down to his side, clearly racking his brain for answers to the conundrums they faced. “Usually, this would be your first <em> real </em> hunt. You’d be tasked with accompanying proven hunters, and based on your performance, your comrades would vote to see you passed or failed; failure begot further training. We do not have the time to search or wait for a proper hunt to show itself. Time is of the essence, and thus, I will be altering the challenge.” </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell stepped forward to add his thoughts. “With the attacks the Bathorys are unleashing all across the south, we could use one of those as a substitute. It’s not perfect, but it’ll let us see them in action.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah! Besides, it seems like the normal authorities are getting their asses kicked. Those towns could use the help.” </p><p> </p><p>“Mmm.” Constanze grunted to Amanda, gesturing with her hand to make an encircling sort of signal before pushing her fist vertically into her palm. </p><p> </p><p>“Hell, maybe we could pull off what we did in Porthcurno.” Amanda continued, going off of what Constanze was implying. “And if we’ve got proper gear from your armories and stuff, we can turn just about anywhere into a damn fortress.” </p><p> </p><p>Asgall hummed thoughtfully. “I most certainly do not object to the idea, but I fear that it will not be enough to ensure me that we will not be simply handing over two of our most powerful weapons to the Bathorys.” His voice, grim as ever, was particularly dour now. “I have no doubt that you are promising fighters, but I must know if you are ready to face such terrible foes…. I will see to that personally.” </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell paused, looking confusedly at Asgall as he reeled backward slowly. “You don’t mean to—”</p><p> </p><p>“I do, Maxwell.” Asgall crossed his arms and sighed. “Though I loathe to do so.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze scribbled out a request. “Explain.”</p><p> </p><p>“If you are to face the Bathorys, one of the most dangerous vampire clans in recent history, then I must know that you are <em> fully </em> aware of what a vampire can do at their most powerful.” Asgall stepped forward, down from the altar, allowing his size to increase by a few inches. He always had an air of seriousness to his expression, but now he looked particularly dead-pan. “You will face me, both of you. Your objective however will not be to defeat me, no, but to survive my assault.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda and Constanze both took a reflexive step back. Constanze, the first time she had seen him, knew they had little chance of killing him easily, if at all. That was before she knew that Asgall was a vampire, let alone one which could use magic; a thing they had thought impossible based on Lottes’ notes. She was an engineer, and her point of intellectual pride lay in physics and magic. Despite how ghoulish and dead Asgall looked, she could tell that his form was strongly built. His claws were thick enough to rend flesh and scrape bone all in one strike. His muscles, while appearing atrophied, could not only grow and change, but in their “normal” state, spoke to no small amount of strength on his part. His legs were also unnaturally shaped around the ankle. He could likely outrun a raging bear, and that estimate wasn’t accounting for the preternatural enhancements of vampirism, just the mechanical construction of his bones and ligaments. Factoring all of the benefits that came with vampirism in, on top of whatever anomalous magic or mutation which afflicted him, made Asgall out to be a fearsome foe, just in concept, to speak nothing of practice. Sadly, Constanze knew they would be finding out just how fearsome he was in good time. “Survive?” She asked, unsure of herself. </p><p> </p><p>“Five minutes. If one of you remains standing after five minutes, then you will be ready.” Asgall halted at the bottom of the steps. “I will be using all at my disposal. My strength, speed, wit, and magicks.” </p><p> </p><p>“W-Wait a sec, why magic? You’re the only vampire we’ve ever even heard of using magic.” Amanda chimed nervously, not liking their current chances at that last trial, though it was hard to conceptualize their real odds without an arena and other rules in place. <em> “Is this guy for real?” </em> She’d faced off against beings much stronger than her before, but those monsters all had obvious weaknesses to exploit. What did Asgall have besides the sunlight? <em> “I mean, we’re not gonna TRY to kill him, right?” </em>Maybe that’s what he wanted; Amanda couldn’t tell. </p><p> </p><p>“And you are very fortunate for that fact.” Asgall chuffed. “Pray that you never encounter a vampire who is capable of wielding magic, for they are beyond reproach.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze spoke up. “What about you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Remember well my remarks on mortality: I may have forgotten what it means to be able to die, but I have not forgotten what it means to be human.” Asgall idly looked off to his left, staring at nothing in particular. “I cannot say the same for the rest of my kind, especially those who have performed the most profane rite…. They are not human. Not anymore.” He shook his head mournfully. “They have forsaken everything binding them to others…. If any still remain, then the world is lucky that they have continued to sleep, unlike the lesser vampires now roused from lethargy. ” His gaze slowly drifted back to the two witches. “And you are luckier still to know me as I am. I was not always so self aware and restrained.” His claws twitched at the memories; the blood, the feasting, the hunger. “There is a reason I call this my penance.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze pursed her lips. Then she summoned up her courage to take a step forward. “If it’s what we have to do, we’ll do it.” If complacency was the first step toward failure, then fear and apprehension was the second. Constanze wouldn’t fall to either. “Can’t afford to be afraid of dying now. They’ll take advantage of that. We’ve brushed up with it enough already.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda was galvanized by her sister’s statements, though for both of them, the fear certainly remained. “We just have to survive right? Five minutes?” Asgall nodded. “Then we’ll do just that. No holds barred right?” Asgall shook his head. “You're on then!”</p><p> </p><p>“Asgall, is this <em> really </em> necessary?” Maxwell pleaded as he stepped between the three of them. “There’s enough danger in the land to go around, certainly! And it’s not like you’ll be <em> actually </em> trying to kill them… right?” Maxwell trusted his vampiric friend a great deal, but even he had to question that. </p><p> </p><p>“I will not <em> try </em> to kill them, but I can promise nothing.” Asgall knelt down to be at their height. “I only take such drastic measures because I know the likes of Bathory and her ilk. They are mad, narcissistic, and woefully delusional, as are many of my kind who held positions of prominence. If they are as cunning as they are pitiless, then they will know that there are… ways to exceed the limits of vampirism; the profane rite I spoke of.” Asgall paused to let the weight of the insinuation set in. “Should they have it, the means to ascend even one of their brood, which would no doubt be Bathory herself, then you must be ready to face a predator who knows all which moves to be its prey. For that is no doubt the level of power they aspire to.” </p><p> </p><p>“And we’ll stop her before she gets the chance, one way or another!” Amanda punched her right fist into her left palm. “If we can take you on, then we can take anything on. So let’s go already! First trial; where’s that Fae at?” Only now did any of them realize that Frararanca had gone. </p><p> </p><p>That is, until the telltale cloud poofed behind Constanze, leaving the blue Fae in a day-dreaming pose in the air, leaning into Constanze’s ear. “Boo!” Constanze jumped forward, startled by the noise. As Frararanca began to giggle and laugh, Constanze spun about and glared at her angrily while grunting once in annoyance. </p><p> </p><p>“O-Oi!” </p><p> </p><p>“Fraranca, please! Restrain yourself!”</p><p> </p><p>Frararanca tumbled once in the air, belly laughing. “Haha! Oh come <em> on </em> ! I was just trying to lighten the mood! Your auras are absolutely <em> dreadful </em> tonight!” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze forcefully marked her notepad, shoving it in the Fae woman’s face. “Read the room next time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm? Oh that script was terrible! Why would you recommend I do such a thing at a time like this?!” Fararsanca feigned a scoff before stifling further laughter. Constanze looked at her dumbfoundedly for a solid few seconds before she understood the “joke.” Then she started reaching for her wand before Amanda grabbed her arm. </p><p> </p><p>“H-Hey uh, can we maybe focus! I wanna get these trials done already! We don’t got time to mess around!” Amanda had somewhat forgotten just how tired her body was, and wouldn’t likely remember until Maxwell remarked:</p><p> </p><p>“They’ll be conducted tomorrow, Amanda. We can’t dilly-dally, but we can’t just throw caution to the wind; ye need time to prepare.”   </p><p> </p><p>“Well said.” Asgall rose to his feet once more. “I admire your enthusiasm, both of you, but the only trial to be prepared in earnest is the first.” </p><p> </p><p>“Heh! I came a bit early! Not like I, hehe, had anything better to do!” Frararanca managed to withhold her laughter, but her tone was still laden with little chuckles. </p><p> </p><p>“I must take time to prepare not only the second trial, for the local Fae must be courted for it to proceed. I must prepare myself as well.” Asgall put his right claw flat against his chest. “I must choose a suitable arena, and I must take time to tend to my body and mind. If I am not careful with my powers, I am likely to leave you unable to see this war ended.” He examined his other claw with a clinical eye. “It has been long since I did battle with anything, and so I must reacquaint myself with my own abilities. It shall not take long.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll handle the first two trials then.” Maxwell wrapped his staff once. “I was already taking care of the second anyway, so I may as well handle the first.”</p><p> </p><p>Asgall brought his hands behind his back. “Very good. I trust you and your judgement.” Then he addressed Constanze and Amanda. “As for you, take this time not only to rest, but to acquire any implements you think may need. Our armory is open to you, and should we have any other tools, immediately useful or otherwise, do with them as you see fit.” He nodded to Constanze in particular. “I do not like the idea of our ancient, perhaps irreplaceable implements, being transmuted, but I like the idea of a victorious Bathory much less.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze acknowledged him with a thumbs up, which, despite his blunt lack of understanding when it came to slang and common parlance, got her point across. Already, she found herself sizing up the candelabras. If there was something that was unimportant, replaceable, but rich in metal, it was those gaudy things. </p><p> </p><p>“We’ll be meeting in the morning then, yeah? I don’t wanna put this off any longer than we gotta.” Amanda asked. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, so <em> now </em> you want to get up early.” Maxwell muttered just a bit too loudly, earning a roll of the eyes from Amanda. Maxwell minded his youthful sarcasm as he spoke more clearly. “We can begin as soon as you're ready once the sun is up.” It was settled. Come the morrow, the new initiates, Amanda and Constanze, would face their first trials as true members of the Balefire!</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>A thunderous blow, once, then twice, struck the door to <em> The Royal Red Sun </em>. Nikolai’s boot cracked the door in no less than four places and nearly dislodged it from the hinge with the third and final strike. He was a man possessed. He and his elites had been led by Will and Chaos’ senses. The two Fates floated just outside and above the small, but deadly throng of vampire knights, all garbed as the warriors of Bathory were, but with full black capes marked by a singular red stripe down the center, rather than shoulder bound black capes the rest of the knights wore; a symbol of their status, noting them as members of Nikolai’s honour guard. </p><p> </p><p>The moment Nikolai broke through, the few inhabitants in the shuttered bar scurried for cover. They had been closing for the night, for it was long past the witching hour. They were ill prepared for visitors, and much less so for those with murderous intent. The staff hid behind the bars or behind tables. They had heard of the attacks to the south; who hadn’t? They were safe though, they thought. The beasties hadn’t gone this far north, not yet at least. If only they were so lucky. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai wasted no time and barked out orders in German to his men. “Seize them! Every last one of them! Tear the place apart, board by board if you must! Do not stop until we have found the witches that lurk here!” His commands came as he stepped inside, sword drawn, and held back only in the hope that any of these mongrels might have the information he sought. Nikolais’ soldiers, obedient and merciless, stepped past him eagerly, weapons drawn. </p><p> </p><p>As the last of the knights entered, the Fates followed and closed the door behind them with a lazy gesture from Will. Her and Chaos remained silent for now, intent on watching this event unfold, as they had for the prior raids that the group had been conducting ever since last night, after they had emerged from the realm of memories. </p><p> </p><p>What they witnessed was a sweep and seizure of bodies with brutal efficiency, and a hint of sadism, things that accompanied every prior attack they’d witnessed. Loathsome as the vampires were, to Chaos especially, these ones seemed more useful than the finely dressed sycophants of the court. The bar staff couldn’t hope to stand against this force, though a few certainly tried. Some thrashing here, a gut punch in response there; the only notably unique interaction that came from their subduing was from a particularly brave woman somewhere in her forties. She went for a fire axe and actually managed to swing it at one of the vampire knights. Her weapon struck nothing though, for her target was far too quick, and caught the weapon mid strike. In response, she was disarmed, and then her right arm was broken with a swift and terrible chop of preternatural force. She screamed as four inches of bone pierced out of her own flesh, exposing her elbow. Her shrill tone was silenced by a gauntlet about the neck; she was summarily pinned to the ground in a chokeslam which left her unconscious. The knight who had savaged her only chuckled in response. Her resistance was amusing. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai, not being one to simply give orders without partaking, went from steadily pacing forth as tables were overturned and cowering staff accosted to sprinting forth in a blur. A pommel strike to the head of the most distant of staff members, who was fleeing toward the corridor opposite of the entrance, sent him to the ground in a tumble. He was lucky to not have been killed instantly, but he wasn’t lucky enough to be rendered blissfully unconscious. Nikolai grabbed him by the back of the neck as he began to try and push himself weakly off of the ground. The staff-man was then hoisted up, only for Nikolai’s sword to be held just an inch from his neck. To Nikolai’s own distaste, he had to speak in English. “Speak quickly: Where are the witches?” </p><p> </p><p>“Huhh…. I don…. Don’t—” The blade was brought against his flesh; one stroke would be all it took. “I-I’m swear!” His words were jumbled from the throbbing pain in his head. His vision spun. “Never told me! They nevers told me! I just w-work… the taps!” Nikolai’s blade eased up, allowing the barman a moment of false respite. He was foolish to believe it as a show of restraint. Nikolai was quick to lower his blade, but quicker to hoist him back up by the neck, nearly crushing the man’s windpipe. He paraded the poor man back out to the main room of the bar and barked his demands. </p><p> </p><p>“Let he who knows the location of the witches show themselves! If you do not produce him, then I will render this one as unrecognizable to God!” Nikolai’s fierce commands were accompanied by the faint gurgles and struggles of the choked man in his left hand. A few moments passed then with Nikolai scanning the room. He could see that the older staff members were looking away, their eyes cast elsewhere in solidarity; they would die before they gave away Astrid’s location.  “Well!? Have I not made myself cl—”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t! I’ll show you! I’ll show you! Ach!” One younger man called out as the knight apprehending him pressed down harder on his scalp with a gauntleted hand. “Just let ‘em go! Just let us go and I’ll show you!” The prisoners were quick to erupt into arguments then, with the elder and stoic staff, for the most part, arguing for their silence, while those who were more frightened and fearful for their lives clamored for release. </p><p> </p><p>Chaos clicked her mandibles and many pincers together. She had been experiencing a migraine that’s lasted ever since she escaped the memories, and this racket was pushing her ever closer to the brink of insanity. Her form undulated and sharpened, antennae spasming as her form grew larger. Her cloak billowed with eldritch power. “QUUUUIIIEEEEEEEET!” Her scream shattered no less than five glasses, and cracked the windows nearest to the door. It was unnatural, abhorrent, and rang in the minds of all present, save for Will, like a jet turbine. Nikolai had been forced to drop his prisoner and sword just to cover his ears; his knights fared little better, but their control on the situation remained, for the mortal wills of the prisoners were broken by the shout. The quiet that followed was eerie, interrupted only by the crinkling of glass bits and the shifting of armored bodies. All looked to Chaos as her form shrank back down to a “normal” shape. She snapped once at Nikolai. “Well?! Get on with it!” </p><p> </p><p>Will plainly gestured for the vampires to be about their business, unphased by all that was occurring; her mind was elsewhere. She had hoped to speak with Chaos in private on the matter of what they experienced. The punishment had certainly worked in the sense of bringing the deserved pain and suffering, but it needed to be useful above all else. She needed to make sure Chaos learned from the experience, just as all of the Fate witches learned those many centuries ago. </p><p> </p><p>Eventually, Nikolai and his guard got a hold of themselves and returned to the interrogation. He reached down to lift the face of the barman he had dropped off of the ground. “Where. Are. They?” He growled to the crowd, his patience having long since waned. Even the stoic and older workers had caven to pressure at this point, and so they spilt what they knew. They spoke of <em> The Red Sun </em>, of Astrid, and had made a promise to show them where it was if the vampires allowed them to live. The bargain was struck. </p><p> </p><p>A series of knocks against the door; that was the passphrase The Felinine Receptionist and Astrid had set up to prevent unwanted guests from stumbling into the magical hotel. Anyone who didn’t provide that code would only find a janitorial closet, but those who answered correctly found themselves in the dimly lit, warmly red complex beneath the earth. The Felinine Receptionist, oblivious to who was at the door, answered it plainly, with a flick of her wrist from behind the desk, her head laid down against the table. “Welcome to <em> The Red </em>—” That’s when she noticed just what stood before her. A towering, rage filled, pale man with sharp canines, sable armaments, a cape colored in crimson on the underside, and a shining blade drawn. “We’re closed.” She curtly remarked before slamming the door in his face. She was frozen in place, the hairs on her back stood up in fright. Then came the sword stabbing through the door, sending splinters everywhere. </p><p> </p><p>The Felinine Receptionist dove away from her desk, transforming into a tuxedoed cat within one fluid motion. Her howling and shrieking echoed down the halls of <em> The Red Sun </em>. Bells on the wall began to ring of their own accord as various cleaning implements, and some loose bits of furniture started to animate and shuffle down the halls. Witches and Fae peaked their heads out of the doors of their rooms with expressions ranging from terribly annoyed at the racket to visibly mortified that a fire, or something worse, had broken out. At The Felinine Receptionist's howling, many hurried out of their rooms to follow her deeper into the non-Euclidian complex. The rest were either stunned, or took to face this threat head on, whatever it was. Astrid was among them, having stumbled around a corner as her dearest friend and receptionist passed her by alongside many visitors. “What’s happening!? Are we found!? By who?!” A terrible hiss from The Felinine Receptionist as she scurried away told Astrid all she needed to know: The attackers were out for blood. </p><p> </p><p>Astrid quickly turned her gaze from the fleeing witches to whence they fled from. She hurried down the halls beside several other witches and Fae who were rallied to the defense, spurred by nothing else but their own courage. They could clearly see that, despite the best efforts of the enchanted furniture and cleaning implements, the makeshift barricade was being hacked down by sword and axe as the vampiric foes pushed through the doorway. Surrounded by magicked buckets, brooms, mops, dusters, mirrors, and cabinets, they swung about wildly, cleaving chunks off of the woodwork and denting the buckets like soda-cans. It was nothing but a pest for them to deal with. It bought precious, precious time though; enough for Astrid to bring the witches and Fae behind her within range to loose their spells. </p><p> </p><p>The first of the vampire knights to fall victim to these hexes saw his sword turn into a link of sausages, which while amusing, only enraged him. Another beside him was struck by a hex that imprisoned him in an invisible box, much like a mime. His repeated face planting and bashing against nothingness kept him at bay, but likely not for long. More deadly spells came along these impediments, powerfully charged murowas and bolts of bright light, replicating the suns’ rays, beamed toward the attackers; Astrid had cast the latter spell, having recognized the attackers as vampires based on the lead man’s visage. </p><p> </p><p>The knights scattered, though Nikolai was nimble enough to reflect two bolts sent his way with his blade. The one unfortunate enough to be caught by the beam of faux sunlight was burned, not as severely as he would have been were he caught by true sunlight, but it was enough to crisp his bones. He screamed in pain, true pain, and held the wound on his collar where the armor gave way to clothing and chainmail. It would not be enough to fell him, or any of his comrades though; their counterattack would grow more vicious with every below inflicted on them. </p><p> </p><p>“DO NOT SCATTER!” Nikolai barked as he reflected another bolt off toward the ground before him. “FORM RANKS!” His orders were made manifest in moments and so his knights raised their shields, if they had any, and took up three man wide blocks. They held firm, even as spells blasted away chunks of armor, burned flesh, or polymorphed pieces of gear. Once the formations were ready, Nikolai roared into battle, leading the right most group down the right hallway while the left most group screamed down the left hallway. </p><p> </p><p>“Get back! Get back!” Astrid warned all too late. She had recognized the enemies as vampires, but she had forgotten just how terribly fast they could be. A whole sixty feet or so was crossed within seconds, through the fire of many spells that whizzed past and blasted off of the armored assailants. Their battle cries and hissing drowned out the initial screams of the front line defenders. </p><p> </p><p>“NIGHT HAS FALLEN! NIGHT HAS FALLEN!” </p><p> </p><p>Astrid was struck with a heavy shield, right to the face, shattering her nose. She was a frail old woman, and despite her wisdom and magical prowess, she was no fighter; not in the traditional sense. She was sent back into the crowd alongside others which bowled over the second row of defenders. </p><p> </p><p>The lines clashed terribly in favor of the Bathory forces. Thrust blades pierced bone and hide while leveled axe and hammerheads crushed limbs and caved in skulls. Nikolai, leading the charge, cleared the first few rows with a leap. He landed upon one of the rearmost defenders, a Satyr woman, pinning her to the ground with his blade lodged firmly in her shoulder. While valiant, the witches and Fae who had come to quell the threat hadn’t expected armed and trained warriors. They were already paying dearly, for Astrid and many others had been captured immediately; Nikolai was quick to slash at the legs of witches and Fae near him, after having ripped it from the pinned Satyr who thrashed and brayed fruitletlessly. They fell as they attempted to flee, though several more were far luckier.</p><p> </p><p>Those lucky fleeing few had been able to make considerable distance from the melee while the vampires busied themselves with those they had already engaged with. Nikolai focused on them as they fled and made to give chase, but halted as a few more Fae and witches came around a corner, led by a brown skinned man, somewhere in his early thirties, wearing a heavy tan jacket with fine dress shoes and pants. He sported a fine mustache that curled around his lips, and was accompanied by a particularly fierce looking dog; the three heads on it, snarling and snapping, made it quite fearsome indeed. It stood at around stomach height and barely fit in the hallway width wise, but it gave enough room for the fleeing witches to get behind it. The Finely Mustached Turkish Man whistled for the hunt and pointed toward Nikolai, sicking his beloved pet on the vampire. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai grinned. His fists steadied against the hilt of his blade, tightening with malicious intent. He might enjoy this. His anticipation was briefly interrupted by the thrashing of the Satyr woman he stood over. A boot to the face silenced her, perhaps permanently. He looked back up and saw the cerberus getting closer. <em> “Good.” </em> He had been completely obsessed with catching the last of the Von Braunschbanks. Nothing else had come close to giving him satisfaction, and he hoped dearly that a fight like this would be the exception to that rule. </p><p> </p><p> While his lessers dealt with rounding up the witches, aided by the Fates who summoned magicked shackles once they were properly subdued, Nikolai ran towards the charging Cerberus. The mystical canine leapt forward, going immediately for the throat with it’s lead head, while the left and right heads all snapped wildly for Nikolais’ shoulders. Nikolai ducked lower, spearing the Cerberus with his body. His right arm held his sword back while the left was held out to grapple the canine’s torso. The two tumbled past each other, both stumbling to the ground just a few feet from each other. Nikolai was much quicker to recover though, and he had counted on that being the case. He deftly rose to his feet and rushed forth in a blur, stabbing precisely toward the left most head of the cerberus who was laid on its side. The magical dog snapped just in time to prevent the death of its leftmost consciousness, though still found flesh. </p><p> </p><p>The Canine had scrambled up and bit towards Nikolai while his blade dug into the section between the middle and left most heads, becoming buried in the body at a straight angle, piercing out of its back about midway down its length. Its snapping only continued, and while Nikolai’s fangs could tear away flesh with ease, the Cerberus could make steel look like aluminum. Its bites, while inaccurate, wild, and haphazard, were enough to severely wound Nikolai’s left arm. It tore away his entire gauntlet, rending it in pieces, and cracking the bones beneath. His undead nature allowed him to ignore most of the pain, but it was such an intense attack that even he couldn’t resist the urge to bite down. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai was quick to kick the mutt away, jumping back, now unarmed and somewhat wounded. The Cerberus reeled from the boot to the head, dazed by the strike, and dizzied by the pain of the sword in its body. In the time between Nikolai steadying himself and the Cerberus recovering, The Finely Mustached owner of the dog had rushed forward, quietly given all of the commotion, and jumped onto Nikolai’s back. He beat at his head with a fury, throwing hands lined with a layer of metal as his magicks went to work to embolden his body. Nikolai shouted in surprise and annoyance, struggling with the man on his back in as clumsy a fashion as could be imagined. The Cerberus took advantage and saw how its master and friend had come to aid it. It was spurred to a feral frenzy by the sight, and began bounding forward with all of its strength, ready to end this. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai had other plans. He had enough time to bash the man grappling him back against the wall once, stunning him, and then properly dislodged his grip with a reverse headbutt. He fell off of Nikolai in a heap, holding his face as he howled. The Cerberus was getting closer, Nikolai had to act fast or risk getting pinned, and while he wasn’t fearful of dying to this creature, he wouldn’t suffer further injuries. They only impeded his progress toward the greater goal: Ending the Von Braunschbanks. Nothing would stop him, especially not this mongrel dog and his loathsome tamer. Nikolai quickly turned about, picked the Mustached man up, and spun once to throw the man at his own beast. His body flew through the air, just as the Cerberus opened all of its maws to prepare for a leaping bit at Nikolai’s head. As it realized what was coming its way, or rather, <em> who </em> was coming its way, it turned its maws away, but was unable to stop its trajectory. The two collided in the air, with the Cerberus tumbling forward, burying the sword further into its back and rending the area near its spine, while the Mustached Man fell unconscious in his messy roll. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai rolled his right and then left shoulder, cracking a bone back into place as his regeneration began to take hold, albeit slowly around where the Cerberus struck due to the severity of the wound. The aforementioned creature could barely move now, its spine having been grazed by the embedded sword which left it partially paralyzed, though hopefully not permanently; not that Nikolai cared. He cared so little about the thing as the only saunter toward it in search of his blade, he didn’t even bother finishing it off after he confirmed its whimpering and inability to harry him further. A low, drawn out sigh, almost like a growl, escaped him as he flicked blood from his blade. “A good effort….” He boredly remarked to the unconscious Turkish Man. “But worthless in the end.” As was all resistance to his clan’s rule. Nikolai’s grin had faded as he approached his busy men. The distraction was amusing for a moment or so, but less than he initially anticipated. It always came back to that day at Čachtice. Nothing could simulate the rush, the hatred, the intensity of emotion and satisfaction he felt, even in defeat. And now, with him so close to repaying that failure, all that could slake his fury lay with the final Von Braunschbank. <em> “The time will come for that.” </em>He cautioned himself, slowly wiping his face of little specks of blood as to refocus on the task of handling the captured. </p><p> </p><p> Any witches and Fae who had otherwise stood against them had either fully fled into the depths of this place, or had been subdued. Nikolai didn’t have the patience to scour this place in  full; the prisoners they currently had would do. One of them had to know where this “Balefire” was. He stomped over to the floor bound crowds as they were dragged into the foyer. Some kicked, some screamed, others lay silent, either by choice, or because they were knocked out. Once they had all been assembled before the desk, with the vampire knights setting up a perimeter within and without <em> The Red Sun </em> proper, Nikolai began to speak as he scanned the hostages. “You should all be thankful that you still breathe.” He sheathed his sword then and moved among the prisoners. “And that I yet have mercy to spare.” </p><p> </p><p>A Korvid Shaman, an old and feathery woman covered in heavy cloaks, hiding her crow-ish features, responded with a hissing spit that struck Nikolai’s boots. Nikolai regarded her ruefully before swiftly backhanding her to the floor. A sickly crack accompanied her fall; the sound of her jaw dislocating. She moved no more. “Presuming you all have the decency to respect your <em> betters </em>….” Nikolai grimly remarked while wiping off the acrid spit from his boots. </p><p> </p><p>Astrid, while somewhat dazed from the shield blow she took earlier, was cognizant enough to respond. “We haven’t done anything to you night-walker! Why are you here?” </p><p> </p><p>“Wicked as you are, you are correct…. My war is not with you. Not yet.” Nikolai adjusted his remaining gauntlet and examined his exposed bones as they continued to heal before his very eyes. “But you may know the location of that which I seek: Mortals in service to a flame. The Balefire, they call it.”</p><p> </p><p>Astrid bit the inside of her cheek as her eyes were downcast. She had to avoid looking directly at Nikolai in a vain attempt to hide her sudden concern. Will was quick to spot this attempt, and floated down to stand on her own two feet. “Your cooperation is not negotiable.” She flatly remarked to Astrid. “But your willingness to speak what you know shall spare you and yours the worst of this fate.” </p><p> </p><p>“When did you earn the privilege to speak for me? This is my hunt! I dictate how we proceed!” Nikolai snapped at Will, who wholly ignored his threatening tone, hollow as it was.</p><p> </p><p>“Speak quickly, if you will at all. Our ally’s patience is a fickle thing.”  </p><p> </p><p>“But why? Who are you? Why are you after them?”</p><p> </p><p>“Concern not that is yours!” Chaos chittered from behind Astrid. “Answer or be made to answer!” </p><p> </p><p>Astrid shook her head fervently, closing her eyes. “You’ll get nothin’ out of me. I won’t turn on me own kind.” She resigned herself to whatever punishment would come, and those around her had already begun to do the same. </p><p> </p><p>“Then none of you will leave this hole ali—!” Nikolai began to shout but was interrupted by Will. </p><p> </p><p>“Do not waste our time with pointless bloodshed. We have better methods.” Will knelt down and began to mutter her olde magicks. A ringing began in Astrid's  head, a sudden pain from nowhere. It reverberated in her skull, bringing her to raise her shackled hands to her face, holding it fiercely as she groaned in anguish. She suddenly experienced memories, thousands of instances all at once. Will had merely raised a palm up toward her face and spoken and chanted a few incants, and it was enough to penetrate Astrid’s mind. “You will show Us.” </p><p> </p><p>Astrid’s groaning and wailing grew louder with every moment that passed. She shriveled up out of instinct, entering a sort of fetal position. Still, the memories game, like barrages of blows against her mind. Someone was viewing them with her though, an invasive presence, that of the Fate witch who plagued her. Astrid couldn’t even muster words of defiance as the process continued. There was little resistance to be offered, for Astrid knew nothing of what was even occurring. </p><p> </p><p>Will pressed one last time, sending a deafening whine, a bright and burning ringing into Astrid’s mind as Will combed every singular second of experience that the elder witch had known. Finally, she came upon flashes of what they sought. A lake, no, a <em> loch </em>. High in the mountains, a signal fire marked the entrance; the flame, blue and bright. Astrid had gone there to visit a man with a young, babyish face, marred only by sullen, wartorn bags under his eyes. Yes, the Balefire was there, and if Nikolai’s knowledge of his enemies was correct— “Your quarry lies to the north. They dwell in the highlands.” Will retracted the palm and his it within her deathly still white cloak. The pain suddenly faded from Astrid’s body, leaving her gasping for breath, reeling from the torment. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai squinted at Will for a long few moments. “Bah.” He waved dismissively. “We’re done here then….” He stepped over, and sometimes on the prisoners, caring little for their pained yelps as he crushed a finger or two by chance. “Take what blood you will, but do it quickly! We leave soon.” His servants fell upon the prisoners then with savage hunger. Of the twenty witches and Fae captured, only eight remained, with Astrid and the Mustachioed Man among the group. Neither Chaos nor Will bothered to watch the slaughter, it brought them no joy. Nikolai, on his way out, snatched up the tap-man he had accosted earlier, having left him and the other mundane prisoners as they were in the bar proper. He ripped his throat apart unceremoniously and drank his fill, enough to keep him going for a good while, and then tossed his body aside. He ignored all protests at his lies of promised safety as he exited the building. They had no time to waste; daybreak was coming, and there was much ground to cover. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai came up to his dread-steed with Will and Chaos floating behind him. He spat a bit of flesh from his mouth before mounting his steed. “Lead on Fate witch.” He curtly remarked as his knights slowly trickled out of the bar, covered in blood and viscera from their feasting. </p><p> </p><p>“Hmmph.” Will looked to the north west, closed her eyes, and rescanned the memory she had plucked from Astrid’s mind. “We will not make it before dawn, but waiting here does nothing for us.” </p><p> </p><p>“Ride then! Ride!” Chaos hissed. “Patience the t-time has for p-passed! Tired! Tired of this game! Let us move!” Her form undulated once more as she stammered and stuttered. Her claws tensed and clacked in a discordant tune of annoyance before she pushed herself off of the ground and flew into the night, presuming the direction based on Will’s looking. Her white clothed sister shook her head and sighed, flying after her as to take the lead. Nikolai whistled for his elites to mount up while whipping the reigns of his dread-steed thrice. Vengeance would come on black wings. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>The night came and went, and despite the unfamiliar surroundings, the dire circumstances, and the heavy burdens laid on Constanzes’ and Amandas’ shoulders, they were able to sleep well. They were on one of the many hills that were scattered about the highland mountain ranges, bright eyed and battle ready.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda had come wearing pants meant for being roughed up alongside freshly cleaned, dark leather brigandine, draping down to just above her knees, covered in steel studded, thicker sections of leather, over a white long-sleeve shirt. Light metal elbow pads, knee pads, shoulder guards kept the most vital areas on her arms and legs protected while keeping her light in terms of load. Their first task was to catch an elusive Fae, so she wasn’t too concerned with much else besides mobility; the armor was just a general precaution. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze came similarly prepared, though without the old-fashioned leather gear. She stuck to her more typical outfit; the navy jacket and boots. Given what she saw of Frararancas’ abilities, she wasn’t a threat in the traditional sense. Wind magic seemed to be her dominion, and so Constanze had prepared in other ways. The pack on her back was full of different precautions and methods of capture, ranging from weighted nets, tripwires, a lasso (which Amanda of course requested), and a sack of various magical minerals she’d scavenged from around the mountains. </p><p> </p><p>They were as ready as they’d ever be, with Amanda leaning up patiently against their broom just near Maxwell. They watched as the sun rose above the distant peaks and shined through the seemingly ever present fog. As the time came, Maxwell spoke. “That’s that then. We’re ready to begin.” A singular tap of his cane against the ground followed by a peculiar whistle summoned Frararanca from on high. </p><p> </p><p>The sea-blue Fae floated daintily between the group, lazing about in the air as if on cloud nine. She feigned a yawn. “Aaaaaughhhh…. Time to get going already? But I hardly had breakfast!” She complained, knowing full well she didn’t need to eat almost at all. </p><p> </p><p>“That’s your fault.” Maxwell rolled his eyes. “Get serious now, Frararanca. Asgall paid your fee and the Balefire has always done right by you in the past, so—”</p><p> </p><p>“I know, I know!” Frararanca lazily waved him off. Then she somersaulted once while flashing off a bit of magical sparks as if to psych herself up. “Alrighty! So! Maxwell! Why don’t you get us rolling!”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda and Constanze stood quietly and looked to the eldest witch. Maxwell cleared his throat twice and paused, considering his “script” as it were so that he didn’t miss any of the details. “The first trial:” He began. “Is a timed challenge. You’ll be tasked with catching Frararanca here within three hours by any means necessary.”</p><p> </p><p>“Any means that don’t get me nearly killed, please!” </p><p> </p><p>“R-Right. As I was saying: It’s a test of your abilities of tracking, evasion, cunning, and decisiveness. Members of the order, hunter and smith alike, need to not only know what most Fae can do, but need to be able to adapt to an unfamiliar foe.” Maxwell gestured to Frararanca with his free hand. “Maybe you know what kind of Fae she is, but assuming you don’t, you’ll be fighting blind, and if you want to succeed, you’re going to have to figure out her weaknesses and her strengths. Given the Bathorys are employing enslaved minions, then these kinds of skills will be vital for you to take them on. Otherwise, any number of unfamiliar monsters could be your undoing. Work together, play off your strengths, cover your weaknesses, and find out your target’s own.”</p><p> </p><p>“So we just have to capture her in a time limit.” Amanda cracked her neck to the right. “Seems simple enough. What’s the specifics?”</p><p> </p><p>“You have three hours. That may seem like a long time, but I won’t just be throwing you in an arena. Frararanca will have a sizable head start. You’ll need to find her first.”</p><p> </p><p>“I bet they won’t even be able to do <em> that </em>.” Frararanca laughed haughtily, playing up an act just to annoy the new initiates. She always enjoyed goading them whenever she was called to aid in these sorts of trials. </p><p> </p><p>“We’ll see.” Constanze flatly retorted. “What do we do when we capture her?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve got to get her back to the order hall, still trapped, and pass by the beacon. Once you’ve done that, the trial will be considered won.” Maxwell then shifted on his heels to gesture toward the valley below containing Loch Monar. “She’ll only be able to go as far as the peak opposite to us, and has to stay in the valley otherwise. She can’t stay in the air forever either, so you’ll find her a bit closer to the ground; just to keep things fair. We may be trying to test you to your fullest, but we don’t have time to send you on a proper mock-hunt. Those sometimes take a day or two.” </p><p> </p><p>“Aww, come on! Worried I won’t give ‘em enough of a challenge?” Frararanca laughed heartily. “I bet they won’t even be able to get a hold of me, let alone keep me captured!” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah yeah tinker-bell, keep talking, see what happens.” Amanda revelled in the realm of snappy comebacks. </p><p> </p><p>“What’ll happen is you’ll both fall flat on your arses! Then I’ll laugh! Then you’ll try again and fall right back down!” Frararanca stuck her tongue out and pulled at her left eyelid. “Then I’ll laugh some more!”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze sighed heavily. “Can we start?” </p><p> </p><p>“Y-Yes! Please. Let’s settle down…. Now.” Maxwell rummaged through his cloak to produce two blindfolds. “Wear these. Can’t have you peeking at where our whimsical friend here will be going. You’ll be relying solely on your tracking abilities and wit to find her.” He tossed the two pieces to both witches who caught them with ease.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda wasted no time in putting the blindfold on. “Bring it on then. Let’s get this show on the road.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm.” Constanze did the same. She sat down and set her pack aside, knowing they’d likely be waiting for a little while. </p><p> </p><p>“Very well! Frararanca, are you ready?”</p><p> </p><p>“Am I ever <em> not </em> ready?”</p><p> </p><p>“On your mark then!” Maxwell charged up a simple spell on his staff. “Get set! Scatter!” He fired off a little bolt like a would-be starting gun.</p><p> </p><p>Of course, Frararanca would only leave after getting in the last word. “Ta-ta little hunters! Try not to get your hops up <em> too </em> much! Hehehe!” Then she was off in a puff of smoke, having become as the clouds. Where she flew was hard to tell after she got away from Maxwell by just a few feet, but she left behind a clear enough trail of little twinkling sparkles. </p><p> </p><p>Before Constanze and Amanda resigned themselves to silent waiting, the former of the two spoke. “I liked it better when she was singing on my head.” Even if it was unwanted at the time.</p><p> </p><p>“Just wait ‘till we make her eat those words. Juuuuust wait.” And so they did. </p><p> </p><p>Time was hard to measure when you were deprived of sight after being so used to it. It wasn’t an impossibly long wait, but it felt awkwardly long before Maxwell gave the signal. “And… that’s… time! You’re free to remove the blindfolds! Your hunt begins… now!” Another signal bolt of magic gave Frararanca the warning that the chase would begin, and the sister witches the go ahead to get moving. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze and Amanda both tore off their blindfolds with a quick motion. Immediately, they stood up and surveyed their surroundings. Meanwhile, Maxwell mounted his own broom and took off for the order hall. “I’ll be waiting by the beacon! Remember! Three hours! I’ll shoot off another signal for each hour that passes! Happy hunting!” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda gave him a quick wave before refocusing back on the immediate task. They had a general idea of where to go, but needed a trail to follow. She began walking forward, down the steady slopes of the mountain toward the Loch in search of clues and spoke. “Need to get a scent first. You saw her yesterday, before the whole ritual in the hall, right?” </p><p> </p><p>“Mhm.” Constanze followed behind. “Appeared on my head. Didn’t even know she was there until her singing got to me.” She tried to remember back to just what happened. “Didn’t hear her coming. Was focused, but she… just showed up.”</p><p> </p><p>“Remember at the ritual?”</p><p> </p><p>“What part?”</p><p> </p><p>“That cloud thing. And then she kinda just appeared?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mhm.”</p><p> </p><p>“She’s a wind Fae of some kind…. How the hell do we track that?”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze adjusted the pack on her back with a grunt of effort. Her focus deeped on the memories. “After we met back in the hall, when we were walking around.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah?” Amanda cocked her head to the side to listen. </p><p> </p><p>“Remember when you said I had stuff in my hair.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, right. Yeah it was like, little crystal dust or something. Kinda shiny. I thought it was maybe just some sediment that fell from the ceiling down in the hold.” Then Amanda looked up and all around then. “You think that was her?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mhm…. Keep an eye out for—” Just then, Constanze came to a halt, skid due to the wet ground, but managed to pull herself together, and halted. “Wait. Look close. You see that?” Constanze pointed upward, not terribly high, but at a decent angle. The sun had begun to shine through the clouds again, and its rays had lit up the air before them. Twinkling sparkles reflected in the wind, showing a somewhat clear trail of the direction Frararanca had gone. “Found her.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda quickly got the broom in a riding position. “Good eye, but save that for when we <em> actually </em> find her!” She straddled it then and beckoned Constanze with a gesture of the head. “Let’s fly!” Constanze nodded firmly, secured herself and her belongings to the broom, and leaned into Amanda. Sadly for her, brooms didn’t have sidecars, but she trusted a broom more than she trusted a two wheeled vehicle, for whatever reason. <em> “Tia Freyre!” </em> The iconic spell set them to the air, but Amanda wasn’t done. <em> “Typherious Phos!” </em> Their steadily paced ascent became a darting dash across the sky. Amanda’s laughter that followed sounded over the mountains, while Constanze focused more on gripping so tightly that she felt her arms ache. </p><p> </p><p>About twenty minutes passed with the two witches following the trail. They’d remained quiet, focused, and keen, but found that Frararanca was all too  aware of her own “footprint” as it were. The trails of dust went in various directions, often looping around and forming complex tracks that would see the initiate hunters going nowhere fast. They were over Loch Monar itself, held in place as both scanned the skylines.  </p><p> </p><p>Constanze peered southward. “Method to the madness. She’s predictable.” Her comment was less an accusation of unimaginative behaviors on Frararanca’s part, and more a statement on all things that lived and breathed; there had to be some form of reason behind how Frararanca hid. They just needed to figure out where she would have most likely gone off to. </p><p> </p><p>“For sure. Didn’t you say she took payment from Asgall? A tooth right?” A confirming grunt from Constanze answered Amanda’s query; her gaze focused northward. “Why did she want it again?”</p><p> </p><p>“Something about grinding it down. Used it as a seasoning.” </p><p> </p><p>“Uhhh, first off, that’s fucking rank, second, what did she season?”</p><p> </p><p>“Does that matter?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, if you remember it might!” Amanda leaned in to look at what she thought may have been Frararanca, but was in fact just a bird. </p><p> </p><p>“Something about honey. Don’t know what kind.” Constanze wiped her mouth as the cold wind chapped her lips further. “Said she couldn’t get enough of it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ahaaaa….” Amanda nodded slowly. “So, you think she’s got a sweet tooth?” She was starting to get on a roll of her own, following her natural instinct to guide her deductions.</p><p> </p><p>“Good luck finding bees in winter.” </p><p> </p><p>“Maybe we don’t need bees. You hung around Sucy a lot, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Y-Yes?” Constanze wasn’t exactly sure where this was going. “Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“Cool. And you’re all sappy over her, and you <em> know </em> how much she likes to go on about her plants and shit.” </p><p> </p><p>“I am NOT sappy.” Constanze lied adamantly, but boldly enough that Amanda didn’t question it. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda grinned. “Ok but you definitely still remember the kinds of plants and stuff she rambled about right? So you could impress her with how well you paid attention to her hobby?” Constanze was terribly quiet after that called-shot. “Thought so! She ever come up north? You know how she liked to go on botany runs whenever we went on field trips or something.”</p><p> </p><p>“Probably.” Constanze couldn’t exactly remember that, but she was starting to know where this might be headed. “Looking for a flower with a sweet taste, right?” </p><p> </p><p>“Bingo!” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze hummed low and long. She thought of all those sweet, tender times. Well, they weren’t tender in the physical sense, as both Constanze and Sucy both reserved that for the most special of occasions, but they were emotionally intimate, even if it was just Sucy discussing her recent hauls and plans for alchemy, or Constanze describing her next big project. There was a serenity to those moments like any other, and, with luck, perseverance, and spite, they’d get to experience those moments again. Constanze did her best to focus on the contents of those talks. She thought back to her third year, and remembered something about Sucy having gone off to Ireland and Scotland during the summer break. <em> “She brought something back…. A lot of things. One thing in particular though….” </em>Constanzer remembered Sucy used this plant to brew an ale, as they were of proper drinking age in the UK by that point, and Sucy always had a vague interest in the realm of brew-craft, mundane or otherwise. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze shifted her thinking and focused on the land around her. Her and Amanda had scouted around and saw all kinds of things both mundane and minutely magical. One thing that stood out to her was the red fields of shrubs. They had flowers that were just like the one Maxwell had in a band around his plain hemp necklace. <em> “Was that it? A poppy? No. No…. Heather!” </em>Yes! That was it, a Scottish Heather plant. They were used to brew ales and wines and had a potently sweet honey that could be harvested from them. They wouldn’t be in bloom right now, but they survived year round, and a Fae like Frararanca no doubt knew how to prematurely extract that kind of flavor. “Look for the red bushes. The flowers are sweet. She’ll be there.” Constanze suddenly exclaimed with a snap of her fingers.</p><p> </p><p>“Hah! Knew you’d have the answers! Alright, where to….” With their new strategy in mind, Amanda was able to easily spot a particularly dense patch of Heather shrubs off on the west bank of the Loch. One of the many trails led to that same patch and terminated at its location; if she wasn’t there, then she mustn’t have gone far. “Hold tight! Here we go!” Amanda whipped their broom around to face their new destination. <em> “Typherious Phos!” </em>They were, hopefully, hot on the trail now. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Ah, the joys of hard work. Frararanca had flown around <em> so </em> much already. Of course she needed to take a break. That puzzling trail she left was bound to occupy them for hours anyway. She could be anywhere in the valley and there’s no way they’d be able to find her easily. “The fruits of labor.” She remarked pridefully while squeezing a strand of Heather flower to get at the sweet nectar within. She was laid up in a patch of the slumbering plants like some hedonistic roman emperor. With the flower rent open, revealing the honey within, Frararanca placed it longways within her mouth. She sucked on the stem greedily before letting her head lull back in a chuckle. “Aahhh…. Why don’t I come by here more often?” She knew exactly why of course; without a summoning sigil, she was bound to The Middle Kingdoms of the Fae realm. She, unlike the Fae on Earth, was not “called” here by the invigoration of Yggdrasil, and the return of magic. “If only I could stay longer….” </p><p> </p><p>Her kind, in almost all of its forms, were trapped within their realm. Gone were the days of free transference between the Fae and Mortal realms; the truly natural way of things. She sighed longingly before supping on the flower again. “A shame what happened to those poor Debutantes…. They never would have wanted the war that followed their deaths, no matter how tragic.” She wasn’t even sure of all the details; nobody was, not even the elusive and powerful Fae Lords. That which sparked The Four Kings Gambit would, perhaps, always remain mysterious. There would be time to reminisce and yearn later though, for Fraranca felt a disturbance on the winds.</p><p> </p><p>Her elfin ears twitched. Was it a bird of prey mistaking her for food? It was fast, but not in the same way. A dragonfly? That seemed more likely, but it was far too big to be something like that. It was… coming right for her!? She dropped the length of Heather plant and darted her head around. She quickly saw what came toward her: She’d been found. “UGH! Seriously!? I took FOREVER to lay that false trail!” It was really just twenty minutes, but that’s a LONG time when you’re not used to laboring whatsoever. Such was the carefree life of Frararanca. Rather, such <em> was </em> the carefree life of Frararanca. Now she had to get chased around like a frenzied goose. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze and Amanda were coming in hot. The latter witch whistled to her sister upon spotting the frazzled Fae. “FOUND HER! You know what to do!”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Mmm!?” Constanze didn't really know what to do exactly, outside of just catching her. They’d fall back on the tried and true plan of making things up as they went along to fill in the specifics. </p><p> </p><p>As the two witches came close on their broom, Fraranca leered before throwing her hands flatly outward. “Can’t you just let me indulge—” Wind began to swirl all around below where the broom was flying towards. Amanda had just whipped out her wand and was preparing a spell while Constanze looked for a safe spot to drop off. Neither would get the chance to act before a massive whirlwind pizzle sent their broom high into the air with an upward flick of Frararancas’ hands. “—IN PEACE!?” </p><p> </p><p>Luckily for Constanze, she was already primed to leap away, and just so happened to do so as the broom began to violently rise. Her fall wasn’t graceful, not by any means. She yelped in surprise while tumbling down into the bushes, leaving a dent in the patch where her body fell. <em> “Great.” </em> She groaned to herself and spat out a bit of plant matter that got in her mouth. <em> “Just great.” </em> </p><p> </p><p>Amanda had to deal with much worse than just an annoying tumble. Her broom was sent high up into the air, lifted by the great tornado like vortex. Her vision spun in every which way as the broom lost all control. She screamed in expected terror and shouted off many, <em> many </em> explicatives. She kept going higher and higher! Just when would it stop!?</p><p> </p><p>“HAH! One spell and you two are already eating dirt? Is <em> this </em> the best the Balefire has to offer?” Frararanca grinned mischievously as she threw her arms high and higher, sending Amanda ever upward. She didn’t pay much mind to Constanze at first, but the sight of a weapon of sorts being leveled at her from the bushes caught her attention just a hair too late. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze fired low-powered slugs; once, twice, thrice! The first two went just a hair wide as Frararanca zipped around, having lost concentration on her vortex spell which allowed Amanda to free herself and her broom. The third struck bolt struck true, blunting Frararanca from the sky like an electrically zapped mosquito. Constanze sprung up from the bushes then, pumping her blaster once before disassembling it into just the case and wand. She set the case aside and quickly produced a thick net that she hoped to tie Frararanca in. She held it back for now and leveled her wand at where the Fae landed. <em> “Never that easy.” </em> She hummed anxiously, looking to her left and right just in case. “Amanda!” She called up. “Do you see her!?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda had taken the time to slowly descend and mind the ragnarok style upheaval that was going on in her stomach. She may have been a thrill seeker, but she <em> hated </em> anything that spun and looped like some sort of theme park ride. With disoriented vision, she groaned and leaned over the broom. “Where…. She’s a… little… blue…? Oh god….” Another suppressed bout of bile and a swift slap to her own face set things straight enough for her to speak clearly. “I don’t… see her! Where’d you down here!?”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze spun about. She bit her lower lip. “I just saw her!” Just as she feared, Frararanca was more elusive than they may have thought. “Come down and—</p><p> </p><p>A sudden wind picked up behind Constanze, causing her hair to flow erratically. “Boo!” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze froze up. <em> “Scheiße!” </em>Before she could even think to react, a terrible tornado sent her tumbling forward at high speed. She crashed through bush after bush, leaving a comet's trail in the dirt where her body dug into the earth only to bounce off a moment or so later. Her tools and gadgets went everywhere, and she was only barely able to hold onto her wand amidst the tumult. At the end of her roll, Constanze’s legs fell limp against the ground, her face was planted firmly in dirt. </p><p> </p><p>“Conz!” Amanda instinctively reached out from on high before forming a fist with the same hand. “Alright! That’s it!” She quickly turned on her broom and whipped her wand to be level with the laughing Frararanca. <em> “Terra Terroria!” </em>A verdant green bolt blasted from her wand, singing through the air with a piercing hiss. Frararanca took notice but never did stop laughing, She merely snapped her fingers in response, and before Amanda’s very eyes, she saw the air between her and Frararanca shift. A sort of tube or tunnel had been created: One end of the literal wind-pipe opened up to receive the verdant blast, while the rest of its length had it redirected in a u-turn to be shot right back at Amanda. “Shit!” She cursed while frantically trying to fly away, only for Frararanca to interrupt with a dizzying barrage of gusts that kept ehr in place. </p><p> </p><p>The spell struck the broom by its hairs, and within moments, the roots of the many plants from below grew in size. They snaked up into the air at alarming speeds and entrapped the broom, for it had been marked by the spell. Amanda struggled and swatted all the while, doing her best not to be ensnared herself. In the end, as the broom drew closer to the ground, she resorted to a leap of faith, softening her landing with a Phos spell. Still, the landing wasn’t pretty; Amanda stumbled forward, having been forced to all fours just to prevent herself from going face first into the dirt like her sister had. She breathed heavily, taking a moment to regain her composure.</p><p> </p><p>This of course gave Frararanca the perfect opportunity to gloat. “Is this what passes for witching these days? You two couldn’t catch a lame rabbit let alone someone as marvelously mischievous as me!” She held her right hand to where her heart would and dismissed them with a posh wave from her left hand. Friend or not, she was terribly good at getting people to loathe her. “Come now? Is that <em> all </em>you have to give?” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda staggered back to her feet and spun around, squinting in Frararanca’s direction. She didn’t respond immediately, and instead sidestepped toward Constanze. While their Fae foe continued to giggle and taunt them, Amanda tried to get her sister back up. “Oi! Conz!” She slapped the side of her face. “You still awake!? Don’t tell me this bitch knocked you out in round one!”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm….” Constanze lifted her head up just enough to be heard. “We didn’t get her, did we?” She seemed quite tired of this already.</p><p> </p><p>“And we won’t unless you… hng! Get… up!” Amanda lifted Constanze up onto her feet, which at least served to give Constanze a reason to pull herself together. </p><p> </p><p>Frararanca wouldn’t let them have a moment’s peace though. “Oh? You’re still standing? I can fix that!” Her snide tone came with the howling of yet another gale. She launched forth three near solidified waves of air in the form of crescents; her winged form danced in the air as she cast each of them forth. </p><p> </p><p>“Move!” Amanda shouted as she dived to the right. Constanze dove to the left. Both were lucky enough to have reacted in time as the first two crescents smashed against the dirt, sending plant matter and sediment everywhere. The third was intentionally shot wide, and Amanda was unlucky enough to have dodged right into its path. She was ready for this kind of assault though, and so she raised her wand and quickly incanted: <em> “Typherious Phos!” </em> Her own powerful gale disrupted Frararancas, creating a sort of barrier for the blast to break on, allowing the wind to harmlessly pass by Amanda, even if she still needed to brace in place as not to be slid backward. </p><p> </p><p>Frararanca offered a slow clap. “Good job! Good work…. You managed to stay on your feet this time!” At the end of her display, she beckoned the two witches closer, grinning. “Come now! I’ll give you one shot for free! No strings attached! Let’s see if you can catch something standing still!” </p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm!” Constanze grunted in frustration. So as not to be heard aloud, she made specific hand signals to Amanda. <em> “Need to go on the offensive. Hit her hard. I’ll go in for the kill.” </em> The “kill” in this case would be a weighted net used to hold their “prey” in place; Constanze cautiously knelt down to pick it up, having been fortunate to find it among the scattered supplies. She didn’t like the odds of this working, but she wasn’t thinking clearly; she felt she needed to rush this encounter to a close, the faster they dealt with this the sooner they could move on to the second trial. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda read Constanze loud and clear, offering a quick thumbs up before settling her eyes on Frararanca once more. She didn’t trust that Frararanca wouldn’t resist their attempt, no matter how “free” this shot was. Her wand was rolled between her fingers as if she were an expert drummer, once, then once more. Amanda inhaled slowly, and exhaled slower. <em> “Hit her hard. Got it.” </em> If there was one thing she could do, it was that. </p><p> </p><p>“Yoohoo!” Frararanca waved at them stupidly. “I’ve given you an opening! Would you like to take it within the next century?” Only a moment or so had passed, but Frararanca was being impatient solely to try and egg them on into making a mistake. “Do I have to paint myself with a big red tar—” Amanda was quick to silence her prattling. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Igneousera! Igneousera!” </em> To burning bolts ripped from Amanda’s wand, forcing Frararanca to immediately dodge up and then to the side. </p><p> </p><p>“H-HEY! What about not trying to kill—” No time to banter; Frararanca really had to fight now. Two more bolts came toward her. As Frararanca darted around them, she saw Amanda running forward with fierce determination. She tried to retaliate by beginning to summon more crescent blasts of air to her aid.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda wouldn’t let that happen. <em> “Typerious Phos Ellera!” </em>A sudden blast of wind from Behind Frararanca sent her fluttering forward in an uncontrolled summersault, disrupting her cast. Without giving her Fae foe a chance, Amanda set up the would-be coup-de-grace for Constanze, who was flanking around to get a clear vector to rush in from with the heavy net. Amanda dove forth to strike Frararanca with her wand just before she might have the chance to stabilize her trajectory. She charged her wand with a “healthy” dose of electrical energies, zapping Frararanca in a small flash of light that sent her spinning to the ground below. As she landed, she looked back to see Constanze already well on her way to hopefully ending this. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze sprinted up judiciously, wand in one hand, net in the other. She cast the latter over where Frararanca twitched and groaned, and cast a spell with the former to manipulate the otherwise simple implement. <em> “Jurak Haruss Haruss!” </em> Sucy passed on that particular spell; Constanze had need of it when trying to capture an Aggro-Krag for a certain project a few years back. The limp strands of the net became as rigid as iron; they enveloped the area around Frararanca in a perfect dome, connecting all of the weights together at the bottom, “glueing” them together by magical means. It wasn’t an impervious barrier, but it would hold against just about anything they had seen Frararanca throw out. “Secured!” She proclaimed with a hint of excitement and pride, though she for the most part remained steadfast. </p><p> </p><p>“Phew!” Amanda wiped a fleck of sweat from her brow, seeming far more relaxed about all of this. She stood up from her crouched position and started toward the two with a satisfied smile. “That’s what you get for given’ us a free shot Frankie!” Amanda taunted, wanting to get back for all of the gloating Frararanca did.</p><p> </p><p>“F-FRANKIE!?” The entrapped Fae snapped up from her laid down position, still jittering with sparks on her body. “F-F-First you nearly k-kill me… A-And n-now you misuse my name!?” Suddenly, she flew into an absolute fury of what Amanda could only assume to be, swears, insults, and curses in both Low and High Fae tongue.</p><p> </p><p>“Can it twinkle-toes! I didn’t even aim to hit you!” Amanda brushed it all off, deciding it was better to tune the rant out rather than try to parse how many ways her mother was being insulted. “What are we thinking then? This a job well done?” Amanda put her wrists to her hips, looking to Constanze expectantly. </p><p> </p><p>“Seems… too easy.” Constanze looked away from Frararanca for a brief moment to shake her head and meet Amanda’s eyes. “Still have to get her back to the hall. Could be a bumpy—” And then the swearing just stopped. All was silent, and that just wasn’t right. Frararanca was <em> livid </em>; there was no way she had simply decided to stop throwing a fit. Constanze looked back down at the net-ball, finding it hard to see into it. </p><p> </p><p>“Uhh, you ok?” Amanda didn’t realize it at first, and looked down with some level of confusion at the net-ball. </p><p> </p><p>“Is… she?” Constanze knelt down and lightly shook the ball. No response came. It seemed hollow.</p><p> </p><p>“You got her right? I mean, she was just yelling at—” No she wasn’t. Amanda turned back to Constanze. Both of them locked eyes and then looked back to the ball. “Fuck.” The wind started picking up. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, you don’t know the <em> half </em> of it!” Frararanca’s rueful voice came from right behind the sister witches. She was floating upward from out of the plantlife, arms partially bent and outstretched to her sides. Thick orbs of air were held in her hands, her hair billowed and whipped in every which direction. As Amanda and Constanze turned about, they got a faceful of pressurized air for all their trouble. Frararanca was kind enough to aim it at their foreheads rather than say their eyes, nose, or mouth, knowing just how damaging that would be. Even so, the snapping strike of air sent them both falling flat on their backs without even a prayer of resisting such force; their heads rang in shared pain. “THAT was for nearly killing me!”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda held her forehead tightly, feeling blood start to drip from the skin deep wound Frararanca made with that air-spike. She hissed and swore, speaking in between her pained cursings. “I… aimed to… miss!” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze didn’t bother trying to apologize; they had a trial to beat. She wasn’t here to waste time with hurt feelings, even if Amanda had jumped the gun a little. She fought through the dizzying pain in her forehead to whip her wand up toward Frararanca. <em> “Frezaria!” </em> A beam of ice magic streamed from the tip of the wand. If they couldn’t trap her by conventional means, they would freeze her solid. </p><p> </p><p>Frararanca simply dispersed herself in response. She became a small, but thick, group of clouds that harmlessly created a hole for the ice-beam to shoot through. Constanze widened her eyes, having not realized how on-command such a power was for this particular Fae. The spell ended, and with it, Frararanca returned; her spiteful attacks would begin again. Constanze and Amanda both earned another stinging spike of pressurized air thrown their way, this time at their hands, but she wasn’t done yet. “THAT was for calling me Frankie!” Oh how Fae hated to be misnamed. Now came the real test of Constanze’s and Amanda’s ability. “AND THIS!” A localized tornado, encompassing the whole of the Heather patch they were in. “IS FOR RUINING MY SNACK!” For how her voice boomed and how the wind shrieked, the contents of her speech really took the “scare factor” out of her retaliation. </p><p> </p><p>The localized cycle had Constanze and Amanda trapped. The winds were chaotic, lashing at their forms in contradictory directions, but never letting up in terms of force or fierceness; there was mischievous malice in the air. The two witches were whisked off of the ground and into the air. Both scrambled to latch onto a shrub or tuft of grass, but simply brought the plants with them on their ascent. Amanda lurched and groaned. She had been spun around enough, and this was ten times as sickening. She tried to fire off a Murowa or to, joined by Constanze, but both of their spells ended up careening around like a wild pinball. They hit everything except Frararanca; her winds protected her. </p><p> </p><p>Higher and higher did they rise, flailing and failing all the while to regain control of the situation. Constanze shouted above the gales. “PLAN! NOW!” They needed to get organized. This messy retort would get them nowhere. </p><p> </p><p>“WISH I HAD ONE! ACH!” Amanda got a facefull of Heather bush, sputtering and spitting dirt and leaves after she smacked it away. </p><p> </p><p>“THINK!”</p><p> </p><p>“KINDA HARD!” They must have been forty feet up now, and the spinning only grew more violent with every moment. Was Frararanca actually going to let them down easy, or were they relying on fate to preserve their bones and lives. “UM…. UH…. WIND!” Amanda blurted out. </p><p> </p><p>“WHAT!?” Amanda got a glimpse of Constanze’s face and found her both enraged by the suggestion, and confused by what could even be extrapolated from it. </p><p> </p><p>“OK! SO! I KNOCKED HER AWAY WITH WIND BEFORE! I CAN DO IT AGAIN!”</p><p> </p><p>“SO WE CAN FALL TO OUR DEATHS!?”</p><p> </p><p>“CAST A SPELL TO LET US LAND SAFELY! I’LL HANDLE HER!”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze had a few ideas on how to get them down with their bones intact, but that didn’t stop them from getting put in the same situation right after they landed. “WHAT ABOUT AFTER THAT!?” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda hardly had a clue, until the inspiration struck her like a canteen to the face, for the canteen that struck her in the face would be her solution. She snatched it mid air as it bounced off of her forehead. “THIS!” Constanze stared at Amanda with inscrutable confusion; had Amanda suffered severe head trauma? “LISTEN! YOU KNOW HOW SHE TURNS INTO GAS OR WHATEVER!” Constanze nodded mid spin. “IF YOU CAN MAKE HER SHIFT, I CAN USE MY WIND MAGIC TO CORALLE HER INTO HER! THEN YOU SEAL IT!” Amanda opened the canteen and dumped out all of the water, which mostly hit Constanze and herself. Both of them spat and shook themselves back into focus. “SHE CAN’T SLIP OUT OF IT IF IT AIN’T GOT HOLES!” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze couldn’t deny the plan made sense in theory, but the problem would come in execution. They were only getting higher though, and Constanze didn’t wanna learn just how high they would get until it was too late to have a safe landing. “MAKE THE REST UP AS WE GO ALONG?” Amanda gave her a thumbs up in response. “OK…. “TAKE MY HAND!” Constanze held her wand at the ready. She steadied her vision on the spinning scenery and prayed that her acumen for physics and precise math was as good as ever, for now is when it would matter most. Her other hand was held out, and once it was grabbed by Amanda, she gave the word. “DO IT!”</p><p> </p><p>“HERE GOES!” Amanda leveled her wand straight down, lining it up perfectly with the center of the cycle where the enraged Frararanca floated. “TYPHERIOUS PHOS ELLERA!” A singular spell, one that would create a disorienting gust to dislodge Frararanca from her casting, disrupted the storm just enough to hurl the witches out of its spin. They were on a collision course with the western bank, going along the edges of the Loch by where the Heather field once stood. Frararanca was quick to stop herself in full after she noticed the two had gone. She had gotten quite carried away in her faux childish rage, as many Wyld Fae of the Faerie variety were want to do. She gasped in horror upon seeing where the two witches had gone as her hair settled down to a frazzled and ragged state. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze hadn’t given the order without a plan though. Her mind ran the calculations in mere seconds worth of time. <em> “If we’re moving at an estimated fifty six kilometers per hour moving along the banks with about one point eight, no, two meters from the first sign of water, then we need…. Got it.” </em> She held her wand out to the right and slightly forward, adjusting the angle once to correct for drift. <em> “ARCANALA!” </em> She cast an unconventional spell, but one she had come to rely on in many of her experiments with storing different kinds of magical energy; there were very few ways to “safely” vent it, and this was one of them. From her wand, a beam of pure arcane power was expelled like flame from a rocket’s tail; it was teal and mint, and blindingly bright. The strength of the blast was just enough to correct their course. Slowly, relative to how fast they were being shot, they were curving toward the deeper parts of the Loch. Safety finally came in the form of, admittedly chilly, water washing over them. Both of them managed to curl up in a ball and prepare for the impact, allowing them to quickly reorient and swim to the surface. </p><p> </p><p>They gasped for air, but wasted no time in swimming to shore, not knowing if Frararanca would continue her offensive or not. As they arrived in the shallows just thirty seconds later, they found Frararanca had fluttered over to check on them, terribly worried that she had just killed the first two Balefire initiates the world had seen in nearly a century. She was relieved beyond measure to see them alive, and ever determined to catch her, based on how she had to dodge a hasty Murowa cast her way. “Oh, thank The Verdant Constant, you’re alright!” Another bolt from a waterlogged Amanda put Frararanca back into a fighting mood. “Ugh! Can we truly not have a moment’s respite!?” Clearly not, for she was already preparing another barrage of windy magicks to put the witches in their place. Now she just wanted this to be over for their own sakes, believing them hopelessly lost.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda coughed up a bit of water, choking out her call to action: “NOW!”</p><p> </p><p>“Just throw down your wands and—” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze, though spent for immediate magic after having cast Arcanala, had enough in her to summon up another freezing spell, one that was sure to lure Frararanca right into their trap. Wordlessly, her wand lit up with frosty energies, though the attack did not come from the tool itself, but from the watery clothes Constanze was wearing. Having dredged herself waist high from the water, anything above where the Loch lapped at her coat started to become dry. The water quickly displaced itself into a hail of tiny icicles and frozen shrapnel, all of which propelled themselves toward Frararanca at high speed. <em> “Haila Hera Henara!” </em></p><p> </p><p>Frararanca had to act fast, and did just as Constanze predicted. She became a mist once more, rendering her unable to cast any magicks, but allowing her to avoid all possible harm. “Amanda!” Constanze signalled. </p><p> </p><p>The fiery sister slightly smirked. Maybe this plan would work, even if it still sounded stupid in her head. She could smile all the wider once she made it work. <em> “Typhoosia!” </em> Amanda spoke the initial incant, beginning a very small storm to encircle Frararanca, putting her in a tiny cyclone, much like the one the Fae had put Amanda and Constanze in. She continued to mutter arcane phrases to keep the spell going as the small storm took on a more cohesive form. Frararanca, in her cloudy state, found herself spun about as though she were in a blender. The force of the spell kept her from reforming into a solid shape as her body was constantly being pulled away from itself no matter how hard she tried to undo her own transformation. Amanda couldn’t call for Constanze to get the canteen, having devoted all of her focus to the spell, but had enough freedom of movement to hold out the canteen with her free hand. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze snatched it away with a telekinetic spell before priming her wand with an intensely blue flame. She popped the cork on the canteen with a simple finger-flick and held it up. “Mmm!” She grunted readily. Amanda nodded in turn and slowly began to drift the storm closer and closer to the canteen. Frararanca was fighting it though, lashing out wildly with dissonant wind-strikes and random gales, though to no avail. She was brought mere inches from the hole before Amanda ceased the stormy spell, only to immediately follow up with another. <em> “Typherious Phos Ellera!” </em>A precise strike of wind shunted the cloud-Fae into the oval shaped bottle and it was closed instantly by Constanzes’ quick hands. One final motion was needed. The blue flame of Constanze’s wand was brought to scorch the canteen shut, welding it clumsily, but effectively, rendering it air tight; there was no way out now. </p><p> </p><p>Finally, there was silence as normalcy returned to the winds. Relative silence at least, for Frararanca was beating on the inner walls of the canteen with her fists, and her muffled shouts could be barely heard by Constanze. “..... OUT OF THIS…. I WAS…. AND YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO….” They could handle her in a moment. For now, Constanze and Amanda needed to take a breather. Both gave each other tired looks.</p><p> </p><p>“Hehe….” Amanda dropped her arms to her sides. </p><p> </p><p>“Heh…. Hah….” Constanze couldn’t help but chuckle as well. </p><p> </p><p>“We did it?” </p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm.” Constanze looked over the canteen once more as it rattled. She gave a weary thumbs up. Before she could offer a proper confirmation, a firework like hissing sounded in the distance. When Constanze looked to it, she saw a flare-trail, one of blue coloring; Maxwell had sounded the one hour mark. </p><p> </p><p>“Looks like we’re making record time.” Amanda wiped her nose with her sleep. “We ready to head on back?” </p><p> </p><p>“Mhm.” Constanze looked over to the ruined field of Heathers. First they had a lot of gathering to do, and neither of them were exactly feeling very pleasant as all the adrenaline died down. Loch Monar was freezing! Hopefully they’d have a chance to warm up once they’d delivered themselves back to the hall. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Look, do you <em> promise </em> that you won't fight anymore?” Amanda had taken over the “negotiations” with Frararanca at this point. Constanze hardly had the voice or patience for it, right now and in general. “And that you’re <em> not </em> going to run away and make us catch you again?”</p><p> </p><p>“YES! Just let me out! If there’s one thing I hate, it’s cramped spaces!” Frararanca whined. “This is worse than caves! At least in caves there’s air flow! I feel like I’ve been thrown into a void!” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda looked back as the broom carried them ever closer to the order hall, guided by the distant light of the beacon. Her and Constanze both shared an exacerbated sigh before Amanda handed the canteen off. “Alright, but if you’re lying….”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze took the canteen and quickly undid the seal with a deft tap of the wand to the melted molding, shattering it into little flakes. Frararanca burst from the canteen with the expected urgency of a woman with claustrophobia and breathed in as if she had been stuck in the vacuum of space. “GUUUUH…. FREE! FINALLY!” Her wheezing was interspersed with celebratory cheers as she dizzily circled in the air. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda brought the broom around easy to float beside their dizzied compatriot. “You… alright?” </p><p> </p><p>“I feel I’ve been… born again….” Frararanca chuckled faintly until her dizzied spinning suddenly stopped. She darted up to be just inches from Amanda’s face and jabbed a little finger at the end of her nose. “NO THANKS TO YOU TWO!” Amanda leaned back, reeling from the sudden approach. “First you nearly impaled me with, what was that, fire magic? And then you trap me in something you DRANK OUT OF!” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze lazly leaned out to the side from behind Amanda. She merely raised a brow as if to ask Frararanca: <em> “Seriously?” </em></p><p> </p><p>Frararanca took note, blinked twice in surprise, and crossed her arms. “W-Well, we may have been tasked with facing off as fos, but did you <em> really </em> have to take it to <em> that </em> level!?” Her tone was horribly excusatory. </p><p> </p><p>“You hit me hard enough to send me ten meters away. I left a trail in the dirt where I skid.” Constanze still felt sore all over, though she remained deadpan. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh… well…. What’s that saying you humans have? Rub some… dirt…. Nevermind.” Frararanca cleared her throat in a faux cough. “N-Nevertheless, I apologize for… getting ahead of myself with the whole… tornado.” </p><p> </p><p> Constanze sighed and leaned back to her original position, resting her head on Amanda’s back. “We needed the practice.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. It may have hurt like hell, and maybe it could have gone bad, but the fight for Luna Nova’s gonna be that bad all the way from start to finish. We can take the punishment.” </p><p> </p><p>Frararanca shook her head. “You torch-headed-loons really haven’t changed, have you?” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda chuckled, mostly to herself. “You don’t know the half of it.” </p><p> </p><p>Frararanca smiled then, despite her prior protests. “At least it was… fun, I suppose.” She started fluttering off at a gentle pace toward the hall then, continuing to speak as she went. “But you tell Asgall I’ll require double the payment if he wants me to do <em> that </em> again!” She wasn’t ever going to let the whole being-trapped-in-a-water-canteen thing go. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmmmm….” Constanze grumbled, as if to say. <em> “Tell him yourself.” </em>She was surprised to hear Frararanca respond. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, maybe I will!” Fae had little trouble understanding nearly all forms of language, even the implied forms of gesture and emotion. After that, the trio enjoyed a quiet flight back to the order hall. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Maxwell saw the trio coming from quite far away. The sky had been clear of all birds ever since that sudden storm started down by the Loch, though given how quickly it died down, he was certain Frararanca was the culprit of that. He raised his left hand in a wave and saw it returned by Amanda, and ostensibly Frararanca, who was just too small to discern the movements of. A minute or so passed before the group was all together. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda did a quick little circle around the beacon with Frararanca in tow. Both Amanda and Constanze threw up a fist, the former did so with a quick sigh of relief. “One trial down!”</p><p> </p><p>“Two to go.” Constanze finished. </p><p> </p><p>“Haha! In under two hours time against a very elusive Fae indeed!” Maxwell felt alive like he never had before. His arms were raised and shaked in a cheer as he plodded forth off of his perch of a slope. “I knew I was right about you two from the moment I saw you in the square!”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda began to lower her raised arm ads she spoke. “Well, Frararanca here didn’t give us an easy time, that’s for sure.” </p><p> </p><p>“W-Wait! Hold that pose you just had!” Maxwell urged while fumbling to pull out an old-timey film camera, one that, despite its age, was kept in good enough condition to function perfectly.</p><p> </p><p>“Eh?” Amanda raised her brow and slowly put her arm back up. </p><p> </p><p>“Ooooh! Are we taking a photo?” Frararanca cooed; she always felt marveled by these kinds of technologies, and The Rust Fae were always so hesitant to explain all of their gizmos and gears to whimsical Wyld Fae such as herself. “Can I be in it? Can I? Can I!?” She bounced in the air, holding her balled up fists just below her chin. </p><p> </p><p>“Uh, sure! I mean, if Conz is good with it.” Amanda meant both for Frararanca being in the photo and for Maxwell taking one to begin with. </p><p> </p><p>“Ugh.” Constanze rolled her eyes. She hated photographs. But she couldn’t deny that there was value to documenting this kind of moment. Her family had kept so much from her that may lie in photographs just like the one Maxwell was about to take. <em> “It’ll be good for the people who come after me.” </em> She reasoned while solidifying her otherwise limp arm. She blinked a few times and shook away any undue grouchiness from her face. She didn’t smile, for she seldom did for any photo, and instead took a stoic and almost austere expression and posture. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda and Frararanca both made up for Constanze’s lack of energy in spades. The former grinned wide and with a signature confidence, one that Amanda couldn’t deny was mostly real this time. Frararanca floated above the two with an even bigger smile. Sure, she had been bruised, battered, nearly impaled, and nearly killed them both, but a Sylph like her was never without the capacity for optimism and joy. Besides, it was all for a good cause, and in the end, they all made it through. </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell simpered like any proud grandpa might. He brought the camera up to his face and aimed it perfectly to capture the scene. “Alright…. Three… two… one!” <em> Click! </em> In the time between the button press, the flash, and the dispensation of the photo, Maxwell thought to himself: He had never met the Nine, nor could he have, but he could not deny that the two witches that floated before him were all too similar to what the legends said. They were by no means replicas, of course, but the likeness and relationship they shared to their crafts and each other was uncanny. <em> “It’s only right for two sisters to relight what two sisters sparked ages ago….” </em> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Roughly two hours later…. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Amanda leaned dangerously back in her chair, now free of needing to wear her armor for a short while. Her and Constanze were down in the grand hall and had been there after drying themselves off from the dip in Loch Monar. Frararanca was happy to send warm winds their way to help with that, but had gone to “barter” for better payment with Asgall soon after. Maxwell was busy coordinating and gathering the assembled Fae that had come from around the countryside, brought to the Balefire by way of an ancient summoning stone, one that sent out a sort of psychic hum to the Fae who called this land home. Some of them were so old as to be considered olde, having lived during the times when the Balefire burned brighter. Many of them remembered the good left behind in the wake of its flame bearing followers; they would see that good returned, and offered their services in kind when the call rang out.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda and Constanze were forbidden from seeing any of the Fae before the trial, so as to keep the surprise factor present during the test. Skilled hunters needed to be able to adapt while under intense pressure and strict time constraints. That said, they needed a break, and expected to need another after the second trial. </p><p> </p><p>“You think this one’ll be harder?” Amanda opened one eye as she carefully kept her chair balanced on just two legs; it was far too old to be testing its structure like that, but Amanda couldn’t help her anxious tendencies to always busy some part of her body. Despite the victory they had achieved, it was only the first leg of this race. </p><p> </p><p>“Mostly.” Constanze kept herself busy by working on her latest project. It was a little ramshackle given the lack of fine materials, but the prototype would serve for now. It appeared to be a singular bracer, meant to be worn around the wrist or a few inches below it. It was primarily made of a steel like metal, and was quite thick and heavy, especially around the “top” of the bracer, where it would face out over the back of the hand. That rhomboid protrusion featured a wide oval shaped hole that seemed to imply something would be fed through it. The workings of firing mechanisms were also in place, but she had saved finishing that part for last.. Hopefully, when she had more time and materials, she could perfect the design, assuming she got a chance to before the battle at Luna Nova. For now, the main bracer itself was complete, but the chain she had attached to it was a work in progress. Link by link, she was transmuting and molding the metal fixtures she had been allowed to take from the hold to form a forty foot long chain that she would wrap around the bracer. “Easier in some ways. Harder in most others.”</p><p> </p><p>“How so?” </p><p> </p><p>“More than one person to fight.” Would they all be as powerful as Frararanca? They had learned soon after having taken the photograph that she was a Sylph, a Wyld Fae of the air, beings with near elemental levels of control over the magical aspects of wind. Surely, not even the Bathorys would be employing so many powerful Fae, enslaved or not. “Secondary objective. Hard to protect yourself and something else.” Constanze continued. </p><p> </p><p>“Well we better learn fast, because that’s pretty much all of why we’re even doing this.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mhm….” Constanze sighed, pausing to fix a backwards transmutation of links in her chain. “Should we check the armory? We’ll—” Constanze was interrupted by a sudden ringing tune, much like a phone going off. Her wand hummed and buzzed on the table beside her before it suddenly projected a small panel. Amanda nearly lost all of her balance and had to scramble to get the chair back on all fours, and she was lucky not to break it in doing so. Constanze meanwhile leaned in to read the caller-id. “Lotte!” </p><p> </p><p>“Huh…. Phew….” Amanda wiped her forehead and exhaled quickly in relief. “You said Lotte’s calling?” Her rebound was quick. This news could be big! </p><p> </p><p>“Mm! Patching her through!” Constanze muttered a spell to stabilize the connection before tapping the arcane display from her wand. A moment later, the wand projected a larger display in between Constanze and Amanda, allowing Lotte, who was once again seated at her desk, to see them both, and vice versa. </p><p> </p><p>“H-Hi guys! Sorry about being l-late…. I mean, we didn’t have a deadline, but I didn’t call yesterday and—” Despite her nervous stutters and pauses, Lotte spoke in a rushed manner.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda cut her off, hoping to set things straight and keep things calm. “Woah, woah, woah, Lotte. Start from square one.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right! Um…. I was calling about the post. You know, the one I was making to try and get witches to come help us?” Lotte’s room looked messier than normal, and now Malitrix was partially in view of the camera, staring off toward a wall. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze widened her eyes with eager anticipation. “Did you post it? Do we have any responses? Are we getting help?” No matter how well or poorly they did in these trials, Constanze knew that the one thing which would make or break this rescue would be the far-flung witches who would come to Luna Nova’s.</p><p> </p><p>“I… actually just posted it. I went through a <em> ton </em> of drafts trying to make sure it was perfect. Eventually I just… gave up and did whatever came to mind. I’m sending over a copy of the post now in case you need me to edit stuff. I-I hope it’s fine! I—”</p><p> </p><p>“Breathe.” Constanze advised, and so Lotte did. “It’s not a dissertation. As long as it works.” </p><p> </p><p>“I just don’t k-know <em> how </em> a post like this is supposed to look! How am I supposed to know if it works!?” Lotte held her cheeks and temples as she groaned anxiously. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda gestured with a calming hand motion. “Easy, easy. We’ll just look at the responses. It’s probably gonna take a bit before it blows up, but if it doesn’t get any traction in a day or two, just try posting it again. Someone’s gotta take notice eventually.”</p><p> </p><p>Lotte took another deep breath. “I guess.” The conversation with her parents about what had happened had gone… about as expected. She and her mother had to stop Lotte’s teary faced father from running off with his ax to go fight the Bathorys. He may have been a bear of a man, and was likely capable of wrestling a fledgling vampire to the floor with ease, but he was no man-of-war, nor was he a man of wit.Lotte and her mother had to be dragged about fifteen feet through the snow before he eventually stopped his emotionally discordant rage, and finally convinced him to just stay home and protect the village like Lotte’s mother would. He was large, loveable, loving, and terribly strong, and that made him a wondrous husband and father, but not very good at much else. His keen eye for valuable artefacts and excellent haggling skills made him quite the shopkeep as well, even if he wasn’t a witch. “Take a look at it anyway. Just in case you guys need to change plans….” As Lotte spoke, she reached over to send the file magically to Constanze’s wand; a little “loading” bar appeared below Lotte’s display. “Speaking of plans, where are you guys? Is this that Balefire place you were talking about?” </p><p> </p><p>“Mhm.” Constanze nodded. “A lot happened. I can… explain most of it later.” Her family matter wasn’t relevant to the mission, objectively at least; or so she thought. “We’ve joined the order. Not important right now, but we’re doing trials.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, if we wanna get at some kickass weapons, then we have to beat three trials.” Amanda leaned forward, resting her elbows on the old wooden table. “We just beat the first an hour or two ago. Now we’re just waiting on the second.” </p><p> </p><p>Lotte’s frown dispersed into a pensive smile. “Good job guys!” She wouldn’t celebrate too much yet, but any good news was a miracle in her eyes right now. At that moment, Constanze and Amanda had both blinked, allowing Malitrix to turn to face the camera directly from afar, though neither witch noticed her movements. Lotte then pushed her pointer fingers together as the frown quickly returned. “Um, is there anything I can… do to help? I get I’m far away but… well… you know. I don’t wanna be useless.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re never useless.” Constanze snapped with an unintended twinge of aggression. She cleared her throat and sighed upon seeing Lotte’s twitchy reaction to it. “Sorry.” She hated seeing self deprecation in action; she was lucky that Amanda’s doubt was, for the most part, an internal affair. “You’ve done plenty. If you want to do more, just prepare yourself. We’re gonna have to fight. Won’t be easy.” </p><p> </p><p>“I know you and Jas both tried to <em> avoid </em> fighting at all costs, sooo maybe if we get some time in between you comin’ to Porthcurno and all, I can show you a few tricks.” Amanda <em> was </em> in the business of “breaking shit” after all. “It’s the least I could do.”</p><p> </p><p>“T-That would be nice….” Lotte timidly replied. Her own internal doubts were at play now, for her self perceived “averageness” seemed to be all too painfully obvious in situations like this; ones that demanded the “extraordinary.” She knew she couldn’t linger on that long though, just as she had been forestalled on thinking about <em> a lot </em> of things given the emergence of this crisis. As horrible as it sounded in her head, she needed to keep her priorities straight. A moment's silence followed. <em> Ding! </em> Broken up by the sound of the “download” being finished. “O-Oh! It’s ready!”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm.” Constanze grunted. <em> “Let’s see.” </em> Her free hand tapped at the display showing the completed download, allowing the enlarged screen-cap to become visible. “Reading.” She flatly stated as to explain her staring and long silence. </p><p> </p><p>“Move over a bit.” Amanda said as she skootched her chair closer to Constanze so that she could get a better look. The image showed the following:</p><p> </p><p>The VexfulHexful website was a signature black and purple. Its design was minimalist, and similar to other kinds of pseudo-anonymous image boards or communal forums found on the mundane internet. The post itself was in the center of the image and took up almost all of the space; no comments seemed to come its way yet. It appeared to be posted in the WW&amp;W (Weird, Wonderful, and Woeful) section of the site, meant for detailing all magical phenomena going on in the world. Unlike ISF (I’ve Seen Footage), this section mostly focused more on mundane and magical news sources, though the latter was few and far between in terms of variety. Reports on local or hearsay events were also discussed here, and vexxers often collaborated to discuss the origin of said events by comparing esoteric witch-lore with the current happenings. If there was ever a place to post something of urgency regarding the safety of witches and the witching culture, it would be here.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Vexxers, I know I hardly ever post in this part of the site, and I don’t even moderate it, but you’ll have to understand that I’ve pinned this post for a good reason. IF YOU ARE READING THIS: Do NOT ignore it. Read it in full. Don’t just read it, but help me. Help us. This is serious, and peoples’ lives are at risk. I’ve tried to remain as anonymous as possible on this site, but to get this point across to you, I have to reveal some info about myself. I’m begging you not to misuse it.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I’m a near graduate of Luna Nova. In a week or two, I would be crossing the floral threshold under the full moon with the rest of my classmates. That may never happen again if what’s going on isn’t stopped. Luna Nova is under siege. This isn’t hyperbole. I’m not being dramatic. It is literally under attack.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> If you live around the UK, France, etc, you probably saw some news coverage about a weird storm that’s lingering just south of England. If you thought that seemed close to Luna Isle, you’d be right. It’s right over it. I wasn’t there to see it, but two of my best friends were, and I’ve been in contact with them for a few days now. They escaped what I can only describe like this: A huge clan of vampires attacked the school and were capturing the witches there for some reason. Some strange and evil witches are helping them, and enslaved a ton of Fae and monsters to serve the vampires.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The only reason I even learned about this before it was too late, and the only thing that is giving me, and you, a chance to do something, is the fact that the witches at the school stopped time around it. I know how, but I’m trying to keep this post concise to get the point across. If you have questions, I’ll post every answer I can give in the comments.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What matters is this: That time-stoppage won’t last forever. At least we don’t think it won’t. Even if it did, we need your help. We need the help of witches. Like I said: I hardly use this board, but I’ve heard about some of the things going on in the world. You can’t escape it. I don’t trust nations to come save Luna Nova, and neither do the witches stuck there. They’re likely to ‘save’ the day by bombing the island into smithereens. Luna Nova would be gone, every bit of knowledge there would be destroyed, and every life inside would be lost. Me and my friends aren’t letting that happen, not without a fight. The problem is that we’re just three witches, and I barely know how to ‘fight’ as is, so I’m asking you, all of you, and everyone you know: </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> SPREAD. THIS. POST.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Keep it away from the mundane authorities, but let every witch and magical sympathizer or Fae you know. If you can, or if someone you know/tell can, GO TO PORTHCURNO. It’s the closest town in the UK to Luna Isle; right on the southern coast. Before you ask: No, the leyline doesn’t work. Don’t ask about it. I can’t explain why, just don’t.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I’ll say it again. SPREAD THIS POST. Get every which and Fae you know involved and go to PORTHCURNO. Me and my friends will meet you there. We’re going to need help if we’re going to beat the vampires and their minions. This is not fake. This is not a hoax. This is as real as possible. Confirm in the comments that you’re going, or if others you know are going. I’ll be updating you all in this thread about what’s going on and where me and my friends are at with the plan. Check the comments to know where they stand right now.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Please help.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Constanze and Amanda both ran through it twice. The former nodded. “Mmmm. It’s good. Gets to the point. Clear.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda rubbed her chin. “Being a mod post must give it some extra visibility, right?” </p><p> </p><p>“Hopefully.” Lotte looked off to the side at nothing in particular. “I-It’s fine as it is then? I’ve posted the comments that explain some of the basic things already if you wanna see those.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mm-mm.” Constanze shook her head. “No need. We trust you.” The way Constanze said it, even if her tone was typically not very emotive, seemed to imply that they always had trusted her. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda backed up that vibe with a thumbs up. “Do whatever you feel is best, Lotte. Just keep us updated on if people start takin’ notice. And maybe see if your mom can teach you any spells to help defend yourself in the meantime. She’s your village’s witch after all, right? Like, an official kind of witch.” She was clumsy in explaining it, but she got the point across. </p><p> </p><p>“Y-Yeah. She’s a… guardian of sorts.” Maybe that word sounded too intense, but it was accurate nonetheless. “I guess as the only kid they had, it makes me next in line to be the village guardian, but Mama never made it seem like I had to become that….” Would that be what separated her from her friends? Would that role make her “special?” As if such a notion mattered, or wasn’t already the case. “She’d w-want me to learn how to be safe though if I’m going to go to Luna Nova with you guys. I’ll do what I can.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then that’s all we can ask for.” Amanda smiled warmly, knowing well that she never had applied such generous parameters to herself; doing all she could just meant never being good enough, and the voices were quick to remind her of that. She held them at bay for now, remaining outwardly unphased. “We’ll talk to you some other time, Lotte. We gotta go get ready for this second trial. If we’re right about this, we’ll need some real weapons, right?” She turned to Constanze at the end of her question. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmhmm.” Constanze then held up her writing pad. “I’ll need to get armored up. Could you help?” </p><p> </p><p>“Hell yeah! Let’s turn you into the metal-suited witch you always wanted to be!” Amanda invoked the obvious archetype of Constanze’s adored giant fighting robots and mech suits, which brought the slightest of blushes to her sister’s face. </p><p> </p><p>“G-Great. Thanks.” Constanze muttered. She couldn’t deny that the idea of operating some impossibly high tech mech to stomp out the vampiric threat would be… awfully satisfying. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll talk to you guys later then.” Lotte gave a weak wave before adding. “Thanks for believing in me….”</p><p> </p><p>“Any time!” Amanda waved back. </p><p> </p><p>“Always will.” Constanze wrote out and underlined.</p><p> </p><p>“Cheer up! We’ve got this!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll try…. Sorry. Things were kinda rough <em> before </em> all of this happened and… it’s just a lot.” Both Amanda and Constanze both hummed in empathetic understanding with their friend, even if they weren’t sure about what <em> exactly </em> was grating on Lotte. </p><p> </p><p>Lotte left them with a somber look on her face as she flicked her wand to end the signal, leaving her in dreadful silence, but not alone; Malitrix always watched her now. She let some of that tension go with a long sigh, and turned her thoughts inward. <em> “Do I really have to have an existential crisis at twenty two? Is now really the time for that?” </em> Gender, purpose, livelihood, worth, all things Lotte failed to understand about herself as far as the future and past were concerned. She looked to the nightstand by her bed, noting the picture she had with her and Frank on one of their dates. As short lived as their time together was, she felt they both understood each other in a natural sense; things just made sense around him. <em> “Would he remember me now? How much has he changed? Could he even help?” </em> Not just with the problems of self, but the Bathory issue. She had taught him a bit of magic, but they had to break it off before she got anywhere very substantial with him. </p><p> </p><p>Lotte groaned to herself and rubbed her cheeks in a circular motion. <em> “Why am I even thinking about him at a time like this? I shouldn’t need anyone to fix me. That’s not their job….” </em> Was that what she was even asking for at all? She wasn’t sure, but she reprimanded herself all the same. <em> “Gotta talk to Mama.” </em> She refocused. <em> “I’m not gonna let myself be dead weight. Not anymore.” </em> She wasn’t even sure if she ever <em> was </em> “dead weight” to Sucy and Akko, since those were the people she most often went on dangerous and wild escapades with. What she was sure of is that she was always cautioning against those trips, always trying to back out of the danger and play it safe, even when, at almost every turn, she found herself craving that excitement. One way or another, Sucy and Akko were relying on Lotte now, just as much as they were relying on Amanda and Constanze. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>Within the next hour, Amanda and Constanze had been approached by Asgall. He informed them of Maxwell’s readiness, and urged them down to the southern banks of Loch Monar; that is where the trial would be held. With Asgall’s aid, both witches were able to arm themselves accordingly, with weapons and armor.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda’s armor hadn’t changed, though she wore a heavier set of pants, one made of a thicker, dark brown leather. More importantly, she had taken up two enchanted weapons; a sword and dagger, both made to be stronger and more durable than a mundane pair of blades, and enchanted to be weaker in the sense that they were blunter. Since they were facing off against Fae foes who had come to aid the Balefire, obviously, none of them needed to be harmed in any life threatening or severe way. The combat would be real, but the stakes needn’t be so high, not yet. That, and Amanda wanted to practice with the sword and dagger typed fighting style as to prepare herself for using Dyrnwyn and Carwennan. That, and she had a special tool up her sleeve; the prototype Constanze had been working on was facing it’s maiden test. The gauntlet remained hidden, bulging under the sleeve on her left wrist.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze had come prepared for war as well. She was, as Amanda described, an <em> “the metal-suited witch you always wanted to be!” </em>Maybe not exactly though. Her armor was certainly metal, covering her entire body, but it was no Kaiju-fighting-frame. It would have to do. The sheen on it was pristine; the steel plate had been thrice polished by the witchgineer wearing it. Initially, it didn’t even fit her size, but her metallurgic magicks saw that fixed quite easily. That helped solve the weight and mobility problems too, albeit at the cost of thickness in terms of defence. The shape of the full suit was, naturally, reminiscent of 16th to 15th century English plate, featuring a circular, two pieced helmet with a slit visor with a guard for the rest of her face, and plain, round shoulderguards. </p><p> </p><p>However, the armor was not purely mundane, but of partially magical origin, having been no doubt smithed by the witch-smiths of a by-gone age. The helmet’s visor, for example, terminated in two bolts to keep in place, but where the metal would have typically been rounded, it instead branched off into five inch long carvings of wings, existing only for stylistic purposes. More practical deviations from the norm existed in the form patterned lines of Lunar Runes along the edges of the individual armor pieces, imbuing the suit with an uncanny resistance to rust and rot, and a general greater resistance to magical attacks. Lastly, the left arm sported a fixture for mounting a shield with a sort of arcane magnet in place to keep the shield firm, which Constanze had taken advantage of by attaching a round buckler for ease of use. </p><p> </p><p>Was it optimal? Not really. Even with her modifications, Constanze felt terribly cramped, and wasn’t sure if this suit played into her firearm focused fighting style. That and she felt she looked a tad silly, though that aspect was neither important, nor addressable under time constraints. It would keep her blood inside of her body, and that was all it had to do. She could revel in the dreams of sleek and futuristic mech suits another time. </p><p> </p><p>“So,” Maxwell began now that the two were ready and waiting. “The second trial: You must escort this little man here,” Maxwell gestured to his right. Beside him was a scarecrow automaton, filled with hay, and garbed in some of Maxwell’s mundane clothes. Despite having a face that was stitched in with black thread and buttons, it could still emote, and appeared to be smiling blankly right now. “All the way around the Loch. It’s about sixteen kilometers if you want to make a full loop, and that’s exactly what you’ll be tasked with. Bring the dummy, as it were, one full loop around right back to this spot where I’ll be waiting for ye.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda waved dismissively. “Pff, that’s all? That’ll be easy! Conz! Get me some rope. We’ll tie him to our broom and get this done in five minutes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, ah, ah!” Maxwell tutted. “Not so fast! For the sake of challenge, you’ll have to do this all on foot. Any magic you use <em> can </em> help with crossing the distance, but no taking to the air.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze was about to speak, but her visor fell down. “Mmmm…!” She corrected that before actually vocalizing. “Wouldn’t it always be more practical to fly?”</p><p> </p><p>“Indeed, but ye also have to consider that not every member of the order was a witch.” Maxwell pointedly raised a finger. “And not everyone we aided was all too keen on flying. Perhaps inclimate weather would keep you from taking off safely. So on and so forth.” Then he made a sort of circular motion with the same hand. “The point is this: The trial is meant to test your practical combat abilities while also seeing how well you do when tasked with a charge. After all, the order was chiefly founded to defend those who could not defend themselves, and so this test is quite a literal expression of that purpose. Think of it as… a test of devotion to the cause. You have to have conviction when fighting after all, otherwise ye lose sight of why you’re even fighting.”</p><p> </p><p>“Aaand we’re going to be attacked by a bunch’a Fae and monsters during this, right?” Amanda asked while stretching her arms and shoulders. </p><p> </p><p>“Exactly.” Maxwell’s confirmation coincided with the wrapping of his staff against the dirt beneath his feet. “They’re all like Frararanca though, in the sense that they’re friends of the order. They’ll come at you with a good deal of force, but no one’s out to draw more blood than needs to be. Hence the blunted weapons.” Constanze had of course kept her blaster on a lower firing setting in lieu of an edge to blunt. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze surveyed the Loch as she spoke. “Will we know when they’re coming?”</p><p> </p><p>“If you’re keen enough to spot ‘em!” Maxwell chuckled. “They won’t all be on you at once, if that’s what you want to know. I don’t know where they’ve gone specifically, but I know that they’ve spread themselves along the route, so be ready for anything!” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze hummed thoughtfully. It was hard to tell if she could already spot any of the Fae who had been assembled due to a sudden fog that rolled in from the north. Hopefully it wouldn’t blind them in the midst of battle, though perhaps they could use it to their advantage. “Do we have to carry it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hm? Oh! The dummy.”</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s call ‘em Bob.” Amanda jokingly chimed. </p><p> </p><p>“We are <em> not </em> naming it Bob.” Should they be naming it at all?</p><p> </p><p>“R-Regardless of names, no.” Maxwell shook his head before touching his staff gently to the scarecrow's head. <em> “Animatico Transforaero!” </em>A magical aura of green and gold engulfed the scarecrow at Maxwell’s incantation. The shimmering lights quickly snaked along its form to the staff then before engulfing Maxwell all the same. Amanda and Constanze both shielded their eyes, only to find Maxwell had taken a serene sitting position beside the now very much moving, scarecrow. “I’m going to control it!” The scarecrow said in Maxwell’s voice; his consciousness was being projected into it! It’s threaded mouth even moved when he talked, though it was a little uncanny, and not all too correct looking based on the noises he made. All of the expressions and movements were more a rough estimation of a human rather than a replication of it. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze understandably found this to be a little strange. “Wow. That’s creepy.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda’s expression went all weird, taking on aspects of various emotions. “I mean, I... guess it works.” Confused wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the feeling she got from watching Scarecrow-Maxwell smile and emote. </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell sighed, slumping over awkwardly. Each movement in his body came with the telltale sound of hay being shuffled and ruffled. “It’s the best I can do, alright?” </p><p> </p><p>“Hey man, whatever works.” Amanda shrugged, throwing her hands up as she did so. “Anything else we gotta know?”</p><p> </p><p>A gleeful Scottish voice came from the mist clouds that rolled behind them. “Don’t forget about meeeeeee!” Amanda and Constanze both spun on their heels, looking around with a slight sense of dread, for they recognized the voice. Frararanca, as suspected, fluttered in from the clouds, holding her arms out to the side in a dramatic pose. “Did you <em> really </em> think your <em> biggest fan </em> wasn’t going to show up to cheer you on?”</p><p> </p><p>“Biggest fan?” Amanda and Constanze intoned in unison. Their voices shared the same levels of droll flatness, and both had half-closed their eyes. </p><p> </p><p>The biggest and dumbest grin Frararanca could muster met the sister witches’ lack of enthusiasm. “That’s right! Your BIGGEST fan!” Was she taunting them, or being genuine? The whimsical Fae energies that surrounded her made it difficult to tell. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda slowly formed her own grin. “Ok ‘biggest fan.’ I have a job for you then. Why don’t you help—” She was cut off by Maxwell’s disturbing scarecrow leer though. </p><p> </p><p>“No outside aid!”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine, fine…. Sheesh.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze shook her head and lowered her visor. “Can we get moving?” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, please do! This’ll be a marvelous display of skill and daring! I’m sure of it!” Frararanca clasped her hands together in joyous anticipation, still coming off as both a heckler and genuine supporter. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda sighed. “Let’s get this over with.” Then she started to walk past the group, taking the lead. “Come on Bob, get moving.” Maxwell’s false nose wrinkled in annoyance at being called “Bob,” but he didn’t waste his breath arguing it; not that he could breath as a scarecrow. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The second trial was underway! The objective was simple, but the road ahead was treacherous indeed. The group kept a judiciously brisk pace from the start, and had no plans of stopping unless they were made to. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda took point, with her sword already drawn and held over her shoulder. Her free hand had her wand at the ready, held gently by her sheathed dagger just in case the smaller blade was needed. She had considered melding the wand with the dagger, but wasn’t sure if she could maintain that enchantment throughout the whole trial; its magicks would fade with time. Hopefully, if and when she won Carnwennan and Dyrnwyn, she could permanently merge her wand with the former balde. That would take a pretty serious ritual to complete, and she lacked the materials to undergo it, and the exact know-how on what to do with all of the components. Lotte would be able to fill in those gaps, Amanda presumed. </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell, in his scarecrow form, kept up a few feet behind Amanda, shuffling around with an awkward gait to every step. Animated or not, scarecrows weren’t meant to walk like that, if at all. Behind him was the fully armored Constanze, who’s every step was accompanied by the clatter of her armor. She marched as a soldier might with her blaster across her chest and scanned the flanks and rear constantly in a regimented pattern, spending just about the same amount of time per survey before she began the scan again. The fog had mercifully receded, for a time at least.</p><p> </p><p>They had been like this for the past half hour, and had made a few kilometers progress already. All was quiet, save for the occasional lyric, tune, or joke from Frararanca who followed from above. Neither witch knew what to expect. Should they have been attacked sooner? Would nothing occur until the final stretch when their tension would be either at its lowest or highest? Were the Fae foes working together, or acting as independent roadblocks with a shared objective? They would soon find out. </p><p> </p><p>As the group moved around a small bend in the path, something caught Amanda’s attention. She heard something above her, a heavy sort of thudding, not against anything solid, more like <em> wingbeats </em>. She came to a sudden halt and held her right hand up to signal for Maxwell and Constanze to stop as well. “Hold up…. Somethin’ ain’t right.” She looked to the sky, searching for exactly what was making those noises. The fog had gone, but the day was terribly cloudy, and they were quite low to the ground. “Oi, Frararanca, you better not be fucking with us.”</p><p> </p><p>“What? Me? Play tricks on you?” Frararanca held her face in faux surprise before swooning. “You wound me….”</p><p> </p><p>“Quit it. No games.” Constanze’s cold glare could be felt from beneath the helmet.. </p><p> </p><p>Frarartanca quickly fixed her posture, intimidated by Constanze’s intensity. “B-But I’m not making those noises! I promise!” The wingbeats continued and grew louder. The clouds stirred. Something was descending!</p><p> </p><p>“Then we got company!” Amanda brought her sword from off of her shoulder and readied her wand, pointing the latter skyward toward where the sky shifted. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze took a knee to steady the aim of her blaster and spoke to Maxwell. “Get down. Hide if you have to.”  The scarecrow man nodded and fell to the ground, ducking and covering to appear as small and unnoticeable as possible. He wasn’t going to make the trial any easier for them, but he would cooperate with them as any person might in this kind of situation. There was an anxious pause that came after. The wingbeats continued to grow louder, and the clouds stirred more and more, but it wasn’t until another ten seconds had passed before something broke the pattern. </p><p> </p><p>Frararanca began to scoot off to the side. “A-As your biggest f-fan, I think I’ll cheer you on… from… over there!” Then she flew off to hide behind a nearby bush where she would watch the battle from.</p><p> </p><p>A dark green, thinly bodied, but widely winged creature swooped down from the disturbed section of the sky. It’s eyes were white, intense, and focused wholly on the trio below. It’s reptilian features, angular, head shaped like an arrow’s own, and long pointed tail, made it clear to be some kind of drakonid being. Amanda could tell exactly what it was by a few key details: It had two wings, but at the front ends of said wings were small claws, and the wings themselves had more muscle and bone to them than typical dragons. It also lacked forelegs, possessing only hind-legs. A wyvern! About five feet longer in body than Amanda’s bike, not counting the tail, was dive bombing them with a terrible gas billowing in its maw. </p><p> </p><p>“HOLD YOUR BREATH!” Amanda commanded as she pulled up her undershirt to go over her nose. Immediately after, she turned to face the cowering Maxwell. “GET CLEAR!” Amanda herself was making a run from the Loch, looking to dodge the smoggy breath of the poisonous winged lizard. Maxwell did as instructed, and ran as best he could away from where the diving Wyvern prepared to unleash it’s noxious breath. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze, while having done all she could to make her armor lighter and less restrictive, had no way of easily escaping this attack. She instead relied on her magicks, having quickly disassembled her wand from her blaster. With the wand in hand, Constanze pointed it toward the Loch. <em> “Hydrazia!” </em>The waters of the bank suddenly animed and became almost serpentine in shape. The watery form darted to Constanze and quickly turned into a sort of bubble around her, one that was hollow and dry on the inside, but cascading with high pressure water on the outside. </p><p> </p><p>Then came the terribly toxic breath. The Wyvern screeched as it spat a great cloud of it’s noxious gas onto the road below. Amanda and Maxwell were quick enough to get out of the way, though the very stench on the air was like one might expect from an industrial cleaner mixed with some acidic substance. It made Amanda slightly dizzy, which Maxwell emulated, not because he could smell anything, or feel anything as a scarecrow, but because he was trying to make it “real” as it were. Constanze was the most unaffected, having been quick to summon that watery shield which kept all of the gas away from her. With a single thwick of her wand, she was able to send the water out everywhere, popping the bubble, so to speak. It bought her room and dispersed much of the gas, as it seemed to be dampened in effect and intensity by moisture. That left her face to face with the Wyvern, for it had landed in front of her, and was now stalking from left to right, emitting a low, rumbling growl. Constanze reassembled her blaster in a quick motion and began to back away, keeping the weapon steady on the Wyvern. She wasn’t sure if it was wise to shoot first. Was it resilient to her attacks? Would it leave her open? For now, they shared a moment of pensive posturing. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda tried to get herself involved, having spun about after getting over the horrible smell. She saw Constanze and the Wyvern facing off, and prepared to flank it with a spell, but heard yet another force rumbling down from the hillside behind her. Maxwell gasped, acting terrified. “Behind us!” Amanda turned around yet again to look at what Maxwell had pointed out. She saw something cresting over the hill; a pair of beings came in fact, though they were both of the same origin.</p><p> </p><p>Dark blue and ivory stones, mixed and mashed together; golems of minerals magical and mundane. They were humanoid in shape, having two arms and legs that were just an assembly of different stones strung together to form the vague shapes of limbs. For a head, each of them instead possessed great flat stones with holes in them, ones that seemed unnaturally smooth, but didn’t seem to be made by man made handiwork. The flat, singularly holed head-stones glowed unlike the rest of the body, possessing a magic that even the most inexperienced of witches could sense from quite far away. They stood at around five feet in height, but were nearly twelve feet wide, possessing a stunted gait, broad craggy shoulders, and rotuned bouldery centers. Hagstones! They had hidden themselves and their magical scents among the land itself, waiting in ambush! They were pseudo-elementals of magic, given shape and form by the spirits of ancient witches who consigned their spirits to the land itself, acting as eternal watchers usually over a burial site or some other place of cultural significance. These ones were of course of Anglican and Celtic variety, though many other lands had similar entities of stone and spirit. </p><p> </p><p>As enemies, Hagstones and all things similar to them were not to be trifled with; Maxwell and Asgall hadn’t pulled any punches when they called on the Fae and magical creatures of the land to face the initiate witches, and why should they have? The Bathorys and the Wyrd Sisters would throw all manner of monsters at them, and none of them would fight on “even” terms, save maybe the most  self righteous of vampires. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda had to make a choice. They couldn’t fight together, her and Constanze. To focus on one threat would leave Maxwell exposed to the other. They’d have to divide and conquer if they wanted to complete the trial. “Maxwell! Get far away and get hiding!” Amanda brandished her enchanted sword across her wand, muttering three quick incants. <em> “Thundra, Thundra, Thundra!” </em>The longsword vibrated with sudden energy. Amanda had imbued it with thunderous force for three strikes; she’d need it if she wanted to damage those Hagstones in any meaningful way. Even with the enchantments on the blade though, to further grant it such magical might risked breaking it, and they had only just begun the trial; they needed to fight smart and not blow all of their strength on every foe they encountered. Work to their strengths, and find their enemies’ weaknesses. </p><p> </p><p>The battles coincided with one another; Amanda charged forth to meet the plodding Hagstone golems, while Constanze grew weary of waiting and fired her first shot. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze, face to face with the Wyvern, had taken a full inventory of its body. She wasn’t an expert on Fae like Hannh, nor was she an anatomical wiz like Sucy, and she certainly didn’t have experience with Wyverns like Amanda did, but she knew how things moved, and how to make them stop moving. She aimed for the Wyverns back right leg as it turned to pace left, exposing the limb as it raised it’s wings up mid-pivot. It was a clean shot, and indeed caused the Wyvern to stumble, having blasted away a few scales and singing the rest, preventing it from reacting immediately with an attack of its own. While it hissed and screeched in reptilian fashion, Constanze pressed her advantage further. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Bang! Bang! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Two more slugs went for the Wyvern’s central mass; she’d beat it into submission with sheer weight of fire. The sooner it went down the better. It wouldn’t fall so easily though. The Wyvern raised its right wing up, and to Constanze’s surprise, her magical bolts reflected right off of it! She was forced to dive prone as the slugs whizzed over her head and fizzled out far in the distance. The Wyvern cackled raptorishly as it made its advance then. It was quick, even with a wounded leg, scuttling on the ground fast enough to tear up patches of dirt and grass. Its maw opened wide to show it’s viperous fangs mixed among shark like teeth; Constanze prayed that if it was going to use them, it was just going to hold her in place and count as a “killing” blow, so to speak. She wasn’t about to laze around and find out though! </p><p> </p><p>Constanze hatched a quick plan to buy her time. She cracked her weapon’s power up to near the max and aimed purposefully for the ground in front of where the Wyvern was scuttling. She only had about twelve feet to work with, and needed to make space, so she blasted a hole in the path, sending dirt and rocks up in a spray just a foot or so in front of the encroaching lizard. Predictably, it reeled defensively, flapping its wings and cawing like a deep voiced crow in retort. Constanze took the opportunity to push her heavily armored self off of the ground and reset her blaster’s power level. A quick clacking sound saw her disassemble the weapon then, giving her access to the wider arsenal her wand provided, predicting she’d need it to ward off further attacks. </p><p> </p><p>Sure enough, the Wyvern had hardly lost its advantage of momentum. While initially startled by the blast, it knew when a bluff was a bluff, and quickly shot through the cloud of dust with a high pitched roar, aiming to bite Constanze about her midsection. Constanze had been trying to cast a spell, but was forced to focus on defending herself. She held up her shielded arm in front of her, allowing the buckler to keep the Wyvern’s mouth pried open, for it’s bite wasn’t strong enough to either crush the enchanted metal or pry it away from the magical magnet. As if it were a shark, Constanze retaliated by punching it in the nose, but to no avail. The two struggled for control; Constanze was nearly thrown off of her feet no less than three times amidst the thrashing which also prevented her from casting anything substantial. Murowas just bounced off of it’s scaly hide, and she needed both hands free to reassemble her blaster.. She needed a way out of this and fast!</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Meanwhile, Amanda faced off against the Hagstone golems. Having charged off to meet them to give Maxwell as much space as possible, Amanda brought her thundering blade to bear. She had the speed advantage, but couldn’t afford to take a single hit from the stone beings. Any blow, even a “softened” one, was likely to knock her flat on her rear. The Hagstone golem’s creaked and groaned with every step, picking up their speed as Amanda approached. </p><p> </p><p>The leftmost golem to the lead and raised its cumbersome left arm to smash down at where Amanda was going to be. Amanda foresaw the attack with ease, given the lumbering nature of her foe, and quickly ducked just beside the attack while continuing forward. She ran right through their legs, prompting the rightmost golem to pivot and bat her with a backhanded strike. <em> “Phos!” </em> She wasn’t being caught out so easily. Her spell, aimed at her feet, allowed her to jump right over the heavy stone appendage. Her landing was smooth as could be, and her circling maneuver continued. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Three chances.” </em> She thought to herself in the heat of battle. <em> “I got three chances to knock these boulders down.” </em> Another ducking manuever between the legs of the golems, followed by a slidekick below another haphazard attack interrupted her planning. <em> “I can do this…. I can do this. Have to make it count!” </em> She psyched herself up as she scrambled back to her feet, needing to keep calm and confident even as the malicious voices of her hateful blood-family taunted her. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda’s hesitation, borne from shooing those voices away, allowed one of the Hagstone golems to nearly strike her though! A heavy boulder smashed into the ground behind her, close enough that the shockwave sent Amanda tumbling down the hill, back toward the path. When she managed to cease her rolling, landing on her now sore behind, hunched over her legs that were stretched out in a V-formation, Amanda could barely afford a moment to undizzy her vision. The screeching and cackling of the nearby Wyvern startled her, bringing her to look in Constanze’s direction, where she saw the charging, winged lizard buck backwards as Constanze laid a shot into the ground before it. Constanze could use some back up, but could Amanda afford to take her eyes off of the Hagstone golems?”</p><p> </p><p>“Help! Oh! Woe is me! I’ll be crushed!” Clearly not. Maxwell was screaming dramatically as he ran away from the slow, but still quick enough to keep up with a malformed scarecrow, golem. Were it not for the seriousness of the trial, Amanda would have laughed at how silly that particular sight looked. </p><p> </p><p>Not that Amanda had time to laugh, for behind her, she heard the telltale grinding of stone followed by a low, rumbling groan, the sound of tectonics at work; the earth’s discontent! She spun her still dizzied self around and hurried to her feet, using the blade to steady herself. Her eyes widened as she saw the other Hagstone golem wielding one of its own boulders, having been pulled from its mass, in its left hand. The Witch-spirit construct lumberingly drew its arm back, as if it were an olympian shot-put contestant; it intended to<em> throw </em> the boulder at Amanda!</p><p> </p><p>“Shit, <em> shit, </em> SHIT!” Amanda swore profusely as she ran to the side, away from the wild goose chase that was Maxwell and the other golem, and Constanze and her Wyvern problem. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> BOOM…! SPLASH! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>A crater appeared behind her, followed by the telltale sound of the dashed boulder hitting the Lochs’ waters. The shot had missed, bounced off the earth, and been skipped into Loch Monar! “WHAT HAPPENED TO NOT KILLING US!?” Now Amanda knew how it felt to have someone aim and “intend to miss” with something that could end her life instantly. Frararanca, still hiding on the sidelines, chuckled at that.</p><p> </p><p>Boulder after boulder was tossed; just how much of itself would the Hagstone golem use!? Would it reduce itself to just a head and arm before it’s assault of stone ceased? Amanda, Maxwell, and Constanze didn’t have the time to figure that out! Amanda kept a serpentine pattern, but she couldn’t just stay on an eternal defensive. She could clearly see now that Constanze was in a seemingly mortal struggle with the Wyvern, as the two fought for dominance in some sort of grapple, one that clearly favored the Wyvern given its bite. <em> “How the hell do we deal with this!?” </em>She cursed herself, and the voices cursed her in turn. </p><p> </p><p><em> “It’s a worthless endeavor for worthless women!” </em> Amanda’s father chided. </p><p> </p><p><em> “The only place you’ll end up going with that kind of education is a seedy alley in God knows what part of town. Witches are nothing but trouble.” </em> Her Mother scoffed. <em> “You’ll never amount to anything!” </em></p><p> </p><p><em> “SHUT UP!” </em> Amanda internally screamed while yet another boulder went past her. She grit her teeth and closed her eyes for a moment, flushing out all noise save for what was happening in the material world. With that quiet, as momentary as it was, Amanda was able to properly assess the situation. She looked to Maxwell and the golem chasing him. He had time to spare, and could keep running for a while longer without aid. Constanze needed immediate aid, and if she could be freed of her enemy, then Constanze’s attacks would surely be able to provide her firepower to help take down the tougher foes. Then there was the boulder lobbing golem…. <em> “Aha!” </em> From that, she hatched a cunning plan. <em> “This better work!”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Amanda made her play: She suddenly diverted her path, and instead gave every ounce of strength to break into a quick sprint. She needed to time this <em> just right </em>. Amanda kept making sideways glances at the rock throwing golem. When she realized where she was in relation to the Wyvern, and saw the golem wind up to throw, she grinned. She did a quick double back, using a Phos spell to propel herself back toward her initial direction, again crossing the Wyvern’s and Constanze’s path. The golem heaved its next payload; the plot worked perfectly!</p><p> </p><p>Constanze felt her head start to swim. The Wyverns’ nostrils were flaring with more noxious gasses. Everything was becoming blurry. <em> “Hallucinogenic? No. Sleep gas? No…. Just… really REALLY bad!” </em>It was suffocating, but not concentrated enough to actually deprive Constanze of air. She tried casting more complex spells, but time after time, the Wyvern bucked and threw her around, sometimes lifting her a few inches off the ground, such that her cast was always rendered useless. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> CRUNCH! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “SKREEEAAACH!”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> SPLASH! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Constanze felt water. Where was she now? What the hell just happened? Amanda was on the beach now, having missed the past few seconds of action because… did she nearly get hit by a boulder? The Wyvern certainly did. It was unconscious in the Loch now, mercifully alive, but certainly too wounded to continue. Constanze groaned as she lifted her head up. </p><p> </p><p>“CONZ! LITTLE HELP HERE!” </p><p> </p><p><em> “Now what?” </em> Constanze sighed internally, wiped her visor free of dirt and grass to get a clear view of the battlefield. Amanda was engaging one of the Hagstone golems, having gone to face the rock throwing one in melee only to have horribly underestimated just how strong it still was despite having thrown away half of its body mass. She was under its only remaining hand left, having been trapped in a sort of stone cage; the bars were the golems’ fingers. Were it not for the fact that she was barely able to move, Amanda would have struck the golem with her empowered sword. Time for Constanze to return the favor she didn’t realize she owed. </p><p> </p><p>“HE’S GETTING CLOSER!” But first, she needed to buy Maxwell some space. The awkward chase between the golem and scarecrow was near an end, assuming no one interfered, for the golem was just marginally faster. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze rose to the occasion: Against a stone enemy, her blaster, even on the highest setting, would be unlikely to do mortal damage. She assembled it with a satisfying <em> click </em> and cranked up the power to its highest setting. She knelt down and aimed for the “head’ of the golem, assuming that might be some sort of weak point. She fired one slug to test the waters. Despite blowing away a small chunk of stone, nothing happened. Three more slugs were sent its way, and more stone shrapnel was sent flying as a result; still, no dice. <em> “Verdammt!” </em> She needed a more direct approach to stifle its advance. </p><p> </p><p>She disassembled her weapon to brandish her wand and cast a powerful spell. <em> “LEVITATIA!” </em> With her words and a masterful motion of the wand, Constanze shot forth a continuous beam of magical energy. It crackled and spiralled in every which direction until finally striking the golem chasing Maxwell. Just as the golem was about to smash down on the scarecrow, it found itself unable to move forward. Were its legs frozen? Was its spirit failing? No, Constanze had levitated the golem into the air, suspending it with a concentrated spell! Maxwell was given an easy escape, and the golem was rising inch by inch. It flailed and groaned angrily, knowing well what Constanze was doing.</p><p> </p><p>It may have just been ten feet off of the ground, but Constanze knew exactly how devastating ten feet could be for something so heavy, especially because the golem was composed of many stones. Sweat rolled down her brow beneath the helmet, and finally, once she had lifted the golem exactly eleven feet in the air, she let go of the spell, gasping for breath. What followed was a veritable landslide; a tumult to behold!</p><p> </p><p>The dropped Hagstone golem was torn apart by its own mass. The weight of its body pressed into itself, shooting off different stones and rendering the limbs useless as they tumbled away. The Hagstone itself, where the spirit remained, harmlessly founded itself embedded in the dirt; defeated. <em> “Now for Amanda.” </em> Constanze had a sister to free. </p><p> </p><p>This battle was winding down, fortunately, for the golem trapping Amanda was <em> only </em> able to trap her. It had spent all of its boulders that weren’t completely essential to keep it moving, leaving it with just one hand capable of holding Amanda in place. The other arm could be swatted around, but not effectively. Constanze took advantage. She pointed her wand at it and spoke. “You know how this ends!” She lifted up her visor to be sure her voice was projected. “We don’t need to fight anymore! Leave!” </p><p> </p><p>The spirit of that Hagstone though was not about to listen to reason. It roared in a way that only stone could; an earthen upheaval given vocalization! Then it decided to pick up not just Amanda, but the whole section of earth she was pinned to. The golem tossed both of them, with the latter screaming, at Constanze, who hadn’t expected such an attack. She and Amanda were both sent backward toward the watery banks of the Loch. Dirt and roots from the grassy hills coated them both. Amanda coughed and sputtered as she contorted her body back into a reasonable position. Constanze meanwhile pushed herself off of the ground with shaky arms. She wasn’t sure if her suit was a blessing or a curse in that instant. Nevertheless, they had to finish this. “Amanda.” Constanze grunted out. </p><p> </p><p>“Ugh…. What?” Amanda asked while wiping her face clear of debris, setting her eyes on the slowly limping stone golem. </p><p> </p><p>“Do it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do…?”</p><p> </p><p>“Test it out.” </p><p> </p><p>“Huh…?” Amanda looked to her left wrist then, remembering why her sleeve bulged awkwardly there. “Ahhhh….” She gripped her sword-hilt tightly, and smiled with slight pain. “About time!” </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll… bait it.” Constanze spat dirt to the side while hobbling to her feet. She brought her blasted to bear, pumped it once, and lowered her visor. She always put her faith in her skill as a witchgineer; time to test that faith. Constanze began her gambit with two shots. They rang out over the threshold as the golem lumbered awkwardly toward them, and struck true against its heavier arm which was raised to shield its face. Then Constanze ran. She darted off down the road, firing wildly in the direction of the golem as the rolling stone gained speed. She gave it a wide berth, huffing and puffing all the while as her armor clattered with every step. </p><p> </p><p>Its attention had been successfully grabbed, giving Amanda all the time she needed to pick out the <em> perfect </em> moment to strike. She analyzed its movements, less so like Constanze, who used her technical and scientific know-how to deduce exacts and hypotheticals. No, Amanda analyzed it differently, like the rabble rousing punk she was. <em> “He’s almost all right sided now.” </em> The right leg and arm held the most of its mass, while the collections of stones for the left arm and leg remained threadbare. <em> “But the spirit’s in the head, yeah?” </em> She asked herself rhetorically, wiping her sleeve against her mouth as she straightened her posture. <em> “Can’t reach that neck though.” </em> The right “shoulder” of the Hagstone golem acted as a sort of pauldron that covered the neck. It needed to go first. <em> “Alright…. And how do I get at that?” </em>She stepped forward, breathing calmly but decisively. </p><p> </p><p>Amandas’ eyes squinted, focusing in on an exposed gasp where its “armpit” was. It would be hard to get to, and the grinding motion of stone against stone kept it sealed off. <em> “Unless…. </em> ” The golem came close to Constanze, raising its right fist up to smash down on her. Constanze evaded it with a quick turn before freezing the hand to the ground to by herself precious seconds. <em> “There!” </em> When it had lifted its arm, it had exposed a critical clump of stones that magically held the rest of the arm together. <em> “And to make ‘em do that….” </em> The back of its right “knee” was woefully unprotected. <em> “Jackpot.” </em> Amanda put her wand aside, holstering it in her belt, and removed the dagger. Then she held her left arm up to her face and shook the sleeve down. Constanze’s prototype was revealed:</p><p> </p><p>A silver and steel bracer, wrapped in a magically transmuted chain. The chain itself covered every inch, coiling around the bracer, before terminating through a wide hole meant to fit the links horizontally. On the outside of that hole, a fixture that was too big to fit kept the chain anchored in place. It was a wide silver bar attached with adjustable clamps and magnets; Amanda slotted her dagger in the spot, tightened the clamps, and examined the bracer one final time. A simple trigger system existed within the thicker rear end of the bracer, one that Amanda could activate through a small bit of magical pressure being put on the internal structure. She needed only to think of firing it, and it would fire. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Perfect.” </em> Amanda got serious. She twirled her longsword once before gripping it as tightly as possible. Then she started running as hard as she could; she needed to get into position behind the Hagstone golem, who continued to be led on a wild but fruitless chase by Constanze. After Constanze made a sudden change in direction, the golem pivoted in kind, giving Amanda a clear shot of the backside of its right knee. Amanda aimed her gauntlet, and steadied her pace. <em> “Here goes nothing!” </em> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Click! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The trigger activated. A crackle of metal sounds followed, along with the whipping of wind as it was cut finely by the shot dagger. More and more of the chain was uncoiled off of the bracer until the blade found its mark and embedded itself in the sediment. “GOTCHA!” Amanda couldn’t help but grin, only to stumble forward as the golem continued to chase as if it hadn’t been snagged. “H-Hey! WOAH!” Amanda started to run, allowing more of the chain to become slack. <em> “Alright. Alright! Now how do I….” </em> Amanda pressed her magic to seek out the second trigger. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Click! CLICKCLICKLCLICKCLICK! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The gauntlet reeled it in, or rather, reeled <em> Amanda </em> in. She nearly tripped again, almost finding herself being dragged through the mud and dirt, but she managed to leap up in time to let the momentum of the device carry her through the air. A Phos spell, cast from her white-knuckled fist clasped around her longsword, gave her incredible velocity in the air. She hollered excitedly, just as she did when she first rode her broom as a young lass. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze turned her head mid stride, finding herself reinvigorated by the sight of her device at work. Amanda couldn’t see it, but Constanze’s face was alight with pride and joy, even as she pushed herself ever harder to sprint away from the golem. </p><p> </p><p>In mere moments, Amanda found herself well and firmly landed on the back of the golem’s right leg. Her legs trembled from the initial shock of landing so plainly against a hard surface; she’d need to work on reducing that impact force, but she could worry about that later. Amanda pulled her sword back, grit her teeth, and stabbed her thunderous blade at the dead center mass of the ball-shaped rock that kept its knee in place. <em> “ONE!” </em> The resulting blast sent Amanda into the air, blasted shrapnel all about, and thoroughly dislodged a great deal of stone from the leg, rendering it near useless, just as the left leg was. Amanda flew through the air, not sure if she should laugh or scream. “HEHEHAHAHAAAAA! FUCK YEAH!” So she did both. The chain and dagger, having been dislodged, snaked back to the bracer, rewinding itself to be fired once more.</p><p> </p><p>The fire within blazed! The blood quickened, the spirit broiled! Amanda’s flame grew ever hotter. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze skid to a halt, having heard the thunderclap that signalled the attack had gone through. She saw Amanda careening towards a messy landing, meeting her sisters’ eyes; they already knew they had each others’ backs. Constanze readied her wand. She called on the elemental magics of the earth, the same ones she used to help save their daring motorcycle escape back at Luna Nova. She created a slope that shunted out of the earth, one whose lip was aligned just so with Amanda’s trajectory. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda adjusted her body’s direction in the air, putting her feet first, allowing her landing to turn into a sort of slide down the slope Constanze had erected. The slide quickly turned into a shaky run, but after a few initial stumbles, Amanda found herself making even strides. She cheered silently to herself, and rounded a quick turn, looking to finish off the golem with the remainder of her thunderous blows. </p><p> </p><p>The golem, now without any easy means to locomote, fell to its knees and thrashed helplessly, doing all it could to try and cause as much damage to the initiate’s mission as it could. Amidst its flailing, Amanda got another clear shot of the golem’s right “armpit.” She aimed her gauntlet again and let the dagger fly true. She took to the air with much greater ease this time, aided by Constanze who used a lesser Levitatia spell to hold the golem’s arm in the air. Amanda found solid purchase on the golem’s back, let her longsword hang low, and then cut up with a singular strike that she prepared for. The blast sent her away, though now she had been ready, and was able to more easily land on her feet not far from the golem. </p><p> </p><p>When Amanda and Constanze looked back at their stony foe, having turned away to avoid shrapnel, they saw its right arm had been obliterated! Loose boulders rolled freely down the hill or were embedded in the ground beside it. The golem was all but finished. Amanda joined back up with Constanze in front of the groaning stone; they knew it couldn’t feel pain, and that it couldn’t die, not in the traditional sense at least. It was better just to set it back to a dormant state so that the witch-spirit within could rest. Amanda nodded to Constanze who nodded in turn. Amanda then gathered her breath, approached the Hagstone golem from the front, and wound up a two handed strike with her sword, as if she was a baseball player. “HYAAH!”</p><p> </p><p>The blow that followed sent the Hagstone soaring up the hill, landing it nearly in the ground where a sharper edge of it dug deep into the earth. The rest of the golem simply fell away, having been deprived of the spirit that animated it. Finally, serenity and silence took hold of the Loch once more.</p><p> </p><p>“WOOOOO!” Until Amanda “ruined” it, pumping her arms into the air. Constanze clasped her on the back. She was too out of breath for words, but her lifted visor revealed a smile that said it all. They’d done it!</p><p> </p><p>“Ah…. Phew…. We made it!” Maxwell clapped his straw hands together bealguredly; did scarecrows get tired? This one seemed to. “Good work! We’re… about a third of the way there!”</p><p> </p><p>“Eh?” Amanda’s arms fell fast to her side, and Constanze curled her lips inward. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Oh. Right.” </em> Constanze had nearly forgotten this was merely the <em> beginning </em> of the trial. </p><p> </p><p>“WAIT! THERE’S MORE!?” Frararanca squealed with delight. “THAT WAS AMAZING! AND IT’S NOT EVEN HALFWAY OVER!” She giddily flew and bounced in the air like a ball of pure, wholesome energies. “I haven’t been this on the edge of my seat in <em> decades </em> ! You just don’t get entertainment like that anywhere else!” You absolutely could, of course; The Empyrean Arena hosted death defying bouts and battles every day in the Middle Kingdoms, but Frararanca simply <em> loathed </em> venturing into the lands of the Cinder Fae. She never did well in the heat. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda and Constanze looked to each other one last time before they resigned themselves to marching once more. Even if they had celebrated a little too early, both witches had no doubt that if they could handle foes of that magnitude, that they could take on anything else that came their way. Their smiles reformed, softer now, and they shared a nod. They’d beat this trial yet!</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> An hour or so later, far and away from Loch Monar…. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>They made it as far as Ettrickbridge, but the daylight could not be avoided forever. Nikolai and his elites had taken up residence in a now ransacked farmhouse on the edge of town. Its inhabitants were… relieved of their possessions. Nikolai had them stuffed in a corner down in the cellar; they’d been drained for all they were worth, down to the last drops of marrow. He and his men had been there all day, and while the evening drew closer and closer, with the grandfather clock in the living room solemnly striking the fourth hour past noon, he could hardly wait any further. Still, the sun confined him inside.</p><p> </p><p>Will and Chaos however had longed for time away from the search. They had much to discuss amongst one another, and did so on the roof where they sat plainly by the chimney. Will faced west, Chaos faced south, their backs against the brickwork. It was private up there, relatively so. Every now and then, a local drove by and saw a glimpse of Chaos’ horrid form. Sometimes they screeched to a halt and did a double take, and other times they put all force to their pedals and sped away with haste. Chaos and Will couldn’t care if they were spotted; they merely wished to be away from the vampires, and had no desire to return to the black void of hate that The Pursuer had carved out for them. Their matters were to be discussed between themselves, and with Cause and Effect, should they ever get the chance. It was important to be sure that all of them remembered well why they fought and did what they did. </p><p> </p><p>Silence was upon them for now, as Will lingered on her own memories, ones she usually discarded. Bodies, hundreds of them. Entire academies and covens of witches, reduced to ash. Mundane and magical beings alike; all fell before the Fates if they threatened their goals. <em> “Four times did we bargain with It.” </em> Her nostrils flared. A low sigh, shifting to a growl at some points, escaped her lips. <em> “Four times were we rejected and obliterated.” </em></p><p> </p><p>Chaos sensed the energy's rise in Will, and clacked her many mandibles in response. “Ready to speak are we finally?” She spat then, disgusted with how fractured her mind remained “We mean, are we finally ready to speak?” Neither turned their heads to address one another. It was almost painful to be reminded of what they were now, after having been viscerally reminded of who they used to be, even if they only saw a few relative moments worth of themselves and the Twins. </p><p> </p><p>“We believe so, yes.” Will had put Chaos through that for her own good, but it was a punishment first and foremost. If only Will could have blinded herself and numbed her senses during that procedure; she was just as shaken by the remembering as her eldritchly influenced sister, though she reserved her emotions as always, burying them deep beneath metric tons of mental force and blockages. In time, she might learn magicks to wholly erase her mind. <em> “If only that would make all well….” </em> No, she needed to remember it just as much as Chaos did. The Twins would no doubt remind themselves, or need to be reminded, of what brought them here. Hate demanded an enemy. Hate without a thing to hate was nothing but madness, insanity, rage unrequited; useless. </p><p> </p><p>Chaos nodded slowly, clacking her face-mandibles once. “Beginnings where beginnings needed? Where is best begun began?” Though a mess of words, Will understood well what Chaos meant. </p><p> </p><p>“Before we even consider what we went through, We must ask: Have you remembered anything else? Anything outside of what We showed you?” </p><p> </p><p> Chaos closed her many eyes, human and insectoid alike, and thought deeply. “Mmmm…. Crkkekek….” Even her vocalizations now became more in line with her appearance. All was still such a mess inside of her. That abyssal sea of thoughts, burgeoning with souls and experiences from millenia past. Chaos could clearly remember what Will showed her, but all else remained scant, save for a few details that she had elucidated by implication. “We remember… soon… after the trial at Baghdad.” </p><p> </p><p>Will let her seemingly ever-wrathful eyes settle plainly on the clouds. “Go on.” </p><p> </p><p>“Time evades, eludes; twists, turns! But We remember, in the years that followed, We continued Our practice. Our studies….”</p><p> </p><p>“Ahh, yes. We remember when We came upon you and yours, out in the valley on the night of the eclipse.” Will closed her eyes slowly, imagining back to that time. She had gone looking for Ionna, seeking counsel with her about affairs back in her homeland; she sought to prevent a war between several clans, and hoped to use Ionna’s mastery over fortune telling, or fate seeking, as it was called then, to prevent this war from ever transpiring. Instead, she was drawn away toward a nearby valley, for she sensed something… strange on the wind. A magical influence she would later come to learn as eldritch in origin.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes… yes, We….” Chaos paused to be sure her memory was correct. Things were still difficult to put together accurately, and it was <em> very </em> difficult for Will to force the memories back together. “We remember the eclipse. The Thing In Thirds…. Or was it The Thing <em> Of </em>Thirds?” She hadn’t spent much time with that eldritch power, and so the exact name eluded her. “Never-matter-mind.” She shook her head. “We remember speaking to you, and to it. You came, and it fled. You attacked Us, Our comrades in the coven…. But you listened, eventually.”</p><p> </p><p>“We had believed The Deceivers’ words.” Will’s flat tone became particularly hateful for a singular moment as her rage got the best of her. “We had agreed to snuff out all eldritch influence We found, just as the Eight Traitors did.” Though Some had done so reluctantly, such as Ime and Ishtar, and others couldn’t care either way, such as Vaal. “But We were not cruel. We had not suffered the betrayal… and so We knew mercy.” </p><p> </p><p>“You showed Us mercy…. Do you regret this?” Chaos turned her head to glance at Will. Chaos seemed genuinely intrigued on what the answer would be; she wouldn’t fault Will either way. Will sighed heavily. Her knuckles tensed. Pieces of roofing trembled from the pressure she emitted on to the world around her. “Y-Y-You needn’t answer it if-if it is too personal a question.” Chaos squeaked out. </p><p> </p><p>Will slowly deflated, looking to her involuntarily shaking palms. Had she no restraint, she would lay waste to entire cities. She would visit her wrath upon all life, that they might know her rage, her pain, her fury. <em> “I will not become as she-IT… as IT!” </em> One of her teeth cracked from a sudden surge in pressure as she bit down hard. Reflexively, she brought a hand to her mouth, gently mending the cracked tooth with silent magics. “We cannot say.” She finally uttered, her voice darker than usual. What would have happened had she not heeded Chaos? Her mind went to flowers exchanged in the forest clearing, to held hands, longley held stares from across the threshold, of whole days gone by, sunrise to sunrise, spent philosophizing and exploring the realms of the magical. <em> “A lie is a lie.” </em> She redoubled her hate in spite of it all, she would not be made a victim again. <em> “A falsity accepted to please the senses is nothing more than a rejection of sanity.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>“T-That said….” Chaos cleared her many throats, making a gurgling noise in doing so. “We remember what it told us, The Thing In Thirds.” She even remembered what it looked like: An eldritch being of bright, vibrant pink coloration. It was tall, nearly forty feet in height, but no thicker than a pine tree at any point save for its vaguely egg shaped head. It stood on too feet, gangly, spindly legs matched six equally gaunt and long arms. It possessed three fingers for each hand, had three eyes, no mouth, and seemed to have a sort of skeleton based on how its “bones” pressed from beneath the flesh, assuming it had “flesh” to begin with; this was merely what she saw. Its eyes were deep, void of all color, pitch black, and came in three different sizes. One was huge, another smaller, and one smaller still, and they often rotated into a circular fashion whenever it focused on something. “It spoke of a presence. Its presence. The Deceiver. It sensed it upon arrival.” The Thing In Thirds did not speak of course, not in the traditional sense. No, much like The Pursuer, it used Traveler’s Cant to project complex ideas as pseudo-sounds and shareable thoughts. It used its many hands to draw a vast array of symbols all at once in the air, creating elaborate murals to describe events and concepts it lacked the vocabulary for. </p><p> </p><p>“We didn’t believe you at first.” Will replied coolly, having repressed her rage for now. “But it had gone away once We had arrived…. Would you say it feared Us, Chaos?”</p><p> </p><p>“Fear is… difficult to apply to the eld. The truly eld, that is.” Chaos’ eyes were suddenly fixated on a solstice-beetle, an icy white beetle that thrived in winter climates, propagated magical plants that only grew in the winter months, and hibernated in the spring and summer. It was named as such due to its spawning period always occurring on the Winter solstice. Her mandibles clacked slow at first, then very fast, before she lurched from her seated position to snatch it out of the air and begin devouring it. She spoke between bites. “The truly eld fear each other…. We believe there is a method to the supposed madness of the stars.” </p><p> </p><p>“You never did get a chance to peer that far into the void though, did you?” </p><p> </p><p>“No…. No, no, no. The Deceiver’s existence blindsided Us. We abandoned Our prior research into the societies of the eld; if one exists, or ever existed.” Or if it could be called a “society.” Chaos finished the remainder of the solstice-beetle and wiped her mandibles clean with her many claws and feelers. “We digress though. Unimportant now. What matters is that you believed Us in the end. Or at least trusted Us enough to scan Our memories, and hear its words for yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>“Were it not for our past friendship before that date…. Nevermind.” No, Will would not consider the possibility of being ignorant of The Deceiver’s identity. “Though, We are surprised that you still kept in good contact with Us after the trial.” Will had voted against the eld, after all.</p><p> </p><p>“We… We remember the hate We felt. But we understood the fear, ignorance, and distrust from the others.” Chaos hissed ruefully. “It was Ionna who We reviled. She was the one who introduced Us to the eld. She had shown Us the ways of communion, of <em> safe </em> communion…. We were prized; a prodigy of the eldritch arts among her disciples.” </p><p> </p><p>“But you were impatient. As always.” The blunt flatness of the statement matched Will’s tone.</p><p> </p><p>“Cowardly! They were cowards! Craven!” Chaos retched and began to vibrate. Her form was becoming unstable once more. “What are they which steps into the shallows yet shrinks at the abyss!? Whom is she who imbibes a sip but, not the fullness of her cup!? Where is he who peers but does illuminate!?” </p><p> </p><p>Will sighed. “<em> Please </em> mind your shape. All we need is to accidentally break a hole in the roof only for our allies to be burned to ash.” The sun was setting now, but slowly. Better safe than sorry. </p><p> </p><p>Chaos breathed heavily, eventually shrinking back down to her typical form. With a terrible crack, she snapped her appendages back into place. “Apologies…. Understand you must rage the We feel?” </p><p> </p><p>“We understand.” Will slowly turned and peered around the corner, plainly observing Chaos, satisfied to find her erratic sister back to some semblance of normalcy. “Please, continue.” </p><p> </p><p>“We know why the memory fell apart at that moment.” Chaos pointedly declared, as if struck by a bolt of insight. The statement hit Will’s ear as she was beginning to turn back toward the sky, causing her to do a double take; a hint of interest graced her otherwise expressionless face. “It was at that moment that Our hate became crystalline. A part of Us….” Chaos held up her many limbs, examining each. “It was a betrayal of everything she was…. We had defied her wishes, yes. We summoned a being out of turn, without her present, but… but We had been successful! We proved Our prominence, our responsibility! The being was harmless, and quite helpful even!” Chaos threw her arms down then, letting then disappear into her black cloak. “But she was a dog, like the rest. She worshipped the ground upon which The Deceiver walked…. And so she obeyed, even though she herself had been practicing eld magicks in secret.”</p><p> </p><p>Will clicked her tongue and wrinkled her nose. “You hadn’t told us of <em> that </em> detail….”</p><p> </p><p>“We hadn’t thought it important to any of you.” Chaos chided. “She is our icon of vengeance. She is Ours to kill…. But she is already long dead. There can be no vengeance on those gone by. You. You and The Twins. You still have The Deceiver. Ime may be dead, but as far as We know, those two never held it against Ime for being ignorant. They knew she had been wholeheartedly fooled…. Ionna must have sensed The Deceiver’s power, no matter how concealed it was! She was one of the first great sorcerers of eld! How could she not!?” Chaos scoffed and chittered. “The rest? The rest <em> must </em>have known. How could they not have?”</p><p> </p><p>Will looked down at her own lap then. Did she just feel a pang of shame? Sadness? Her right hand had been brought reflexively inward; toward her chest. <em> “You spent years with it. You embraced it. Yet you did not see.” </em>A voice, much her own, assaulted Will’s collective mind. She banished it with the fury of a thousand thunderclaps. She could offer no vocalization, she had surprisingly found herself at a loss for words. </p><p> </p><p>Chaos continued: “What does that leave Us? Sure, The Deceiver may be the doombringer of mankind, but when has mankind earned Our aid? We were rejected for Our powers at first!” She stood, being unable to suffer sitting any longer. Her pacing began, sounding little pitter patters of her chitinous feet against the tiled roof. “You saw how We lived! We were barely tolerated by others! Our portents were a curse! A hex! I was an omen!” She slipped briefly into the singular amidst her rage. “But suddenly, once I had forsook my original name and took on the dress of a woman, I was <em> divine </em> ! I was <em> ordained </em>…. Feckless! Idiotic! Uncaring!” </p><p> </p><p>Her tirade only continued. There was little stopping it now. “And what’s worse is that the only reason I even had the chance to inform you three was because Ionna was a two-faced snake! She makes The Deceiver look honest! She kept me alive after the ruling, when I was sentenced to imprisonment among the Gloom; those wretched, senseless jailors!” She meant senseless in the literal form, as in lacking sight, sound, etcetera. “I was furious, but I had submitted myself before the tribunal! I would die a martyr for my cause, but she could not even allow me that, no! She had to <em> save </em> me from my own actions! The nerve! The insult! My life is mine to take!” Chaos paused to click and clatter something out in a guttural speech; a series of swears and curses from species far flung, ones she never met, yet seemed to know of somehow. “And now? Now her life is so far beyond me. She denied me all pleasure in death, all satisfaction in immortality under The Pact…. I have nothing, Will! NOTHING!” She spun about, whipping her largest right arm, a great crab-claw, around. “I may be able to aid you and The Twins against The Deceiver, and I will do so, but not because I care!”</p><p> </p><p>Will blinked a few times. Truly, she hadn’t been so off guard in centuries. “What s-sort of drivel are you going on—” But Chaos would not allow her to speak, and spoke over her. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes…. I remember why I still fight. I remember why I did not cast myself to the infinite nothingness ten deaths ago. I still have HOPE!” Chaos suddenly lurched forward, grabbing Will by the shoulders, piercing her flesh, and staining her white cloak in blood and black bile that dripped from her face. “CAN YOU BELIEVE IT WILL!? I HAVE HOPE!? DO YOU KNOW WHAT I HOPE FOR!?” The two stared at one another silently for a brief moment. Will seemed afraid, but not for her own safety, but for Chaos’ sanity. “I hope….” Chaos’ voice faltered. “That…. I might bring her back….” Then it became hellishly distorted. “THAT I MIGHT KNOW TRUE VENGEANCE!” More black bile gushed from her mandibles. Flecks of it singed Will’s cheek, burning it. </p><p> </p><p>“ENOUGH!” Will finally brought herself back to herself. She commanded Chaos, through The Mantle’s power, to let her go, and so she did, robotically, against her own instinct. Will spoke as she evaporated all of the blood and bile from her form, instantly cauterizing any wounds she sustained from sheer heat. “We will not suffer you gibbering in such a manner!” Chaos fell to her knees, forced by a silent command from Will to heel. Eventually, she was allowed to rise, after Will had taken a few deep breaths. Will then spoke with some apologetic tone to her flat voice. “We are sorry, and We understand now, to some extent, that you are… deprived of satisfaction. But We demand that you remain focused.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fiiinee….” Chaos slurredly agreed as she pushed the maddening elements from the forefront of her mind. </p><p> </p><p>“We showed you what We did because you lacked it. Because you forgot why We fight…. Perhaps you never did care for humanity, but you will never achieve anything close to what you desire unless you stand with us to the end.” Not that Chaos had a choice. “We will aid you in achieving a more… specific vengeance. One that could sate your souls. Once this is over, we will have all of the time in the world to go about such business.” </p><p> </p><p>Chaos coughed weakly. Her body shook as if shivering. Her breathing became disrupted, and her heartbeat went irregularly for a time. “Very well….” Chaos would agree, but not because she believed there ever would be salvation. No, Chaos saw how this ended. She saw <em> everything </em>. She just didn’t know all of what she saw. She knew though, above all else, that this symphony had no jubilant finale; not for her. Still, she continued, as if anything mattered, for denying existence was antithetical to the living, and she, regretfully, yet lived; cognitive dissonance would not permit her to rest. “We understand. We will remain focused, just—” Her antennae twitched. “Already?” Chaos leaned toward the edge of the roof at the sound of the door being kicked open. </p><p> </p><p>“Hmm?” Will stepped beside Chaos and leaned, witnessing Nikolai and his men fanning out to retrieve their dread-steeds. “Ah. So he would move with haste then. Very well.” Will lifted off of the roof with a gentle gust of wind. “Our respite is over. We may speak more later.” </p><p> </p><p>“Bah!” Chaos joined her stalwart sister, leering down on Nikolai, who failed to pay them any mind, even if he could hear them from below given his better hearing. “Has he no appreciation for a prolonged rest?” </p><p> </p><p>“As if we have time to squander.” </p><p> </p><p>“We have concerns yet to raise…. Concerns with The Pursuer. Concerns with…. Crkrekek…. That which plagues Us.” It wasn’t just The Child that vied for dominance now; the thousands of voices sought incomprehensible ends: They wanted blood. They wanted murder. They wanted chaos, befitting the name taken up by the Witch in Black, Above all though, they wanted death; an end to suffering. Worst of all, they were hard to resist. </p><p> </p><p>“And there will be time for those discussions later.” Just then, Nikolai whistled and beckoned the Fate witches to join him as he took to the air; he would leave without them if they weren’t quick to keep up, even if the Fates were the ones who knew where to go. “We away.” With a cold gust was Will off then, followed by the buzzing of Chaos, who now used not only her magics to fly, but her insectoid wings to speed through air. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai, meanwhile, kept his eyes ever forward, though his focus was inward. He felt he had been slipping; his mind had been awash in crimson ever since he felt the initial sting of failure. Chance would see the Von Braunschbanks persist, if even for just a few days more, and that fact alone had him nearly feral with rage. The notions of ideology, of purifying the corpse-world of its false rulers, fighting in the name of what he presumed God wanted, it all remained, yet felt insignificant to the task of ending the Von Braunschbank bloodline. He felt himself a sinner for that fact alone, but what was man save for that which faltered? <em> “It all ends and begins with her.” </em> He whipped the reigns fervently on his steed; it brayed horrifically in response, gaining to speeds that would put any other horse to shame. <em> “My last failure. My ONLY mistake…. I shall be pure once she is ended…..” </em> Nikolai licked the front of his fangs, involuntarily chuckling and smiling. <em> “And then finally, FINALLY, there will be nothing that stands between us and our immortal reign!” </em> A man of delusion, such as him, was blinded to all other obstacles that his clan might face. They mattered not. </p><p> </p><p>So long as he was haunted by his failings, he would never be able to know true victory. In his mind, once he had ended the life of that final witch, he would be “complete.” He would be able to champion the sunset of the sinners, a final crusade of blood and absolution, as its unceasing, unstoppable, immortal warrior. Behind distant clouds, where the sun still lingered, low enough to be blocked by the nimbus shapes, keeping him and his kind safe, Nikolai turned his head. <em> “Not even you can halt our advance, for God wills it so!” </em>Hate would conquer the sun, if Nikolai had his way with the world.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><hr/><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. The Way of All Flames</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey there! I hope this chapter finds you well! I got a lot done in a weeks time, and I hope the quality matches the speed! I felt very good about this chapter all the way through, and while the last scene was going to be much shorter, I decided it would be more interesting to better characterize two particular characters/show more of their personality and relationship; you'll see. </p><p>Tumblr: https://karmotrinedreams91.tumblr.com/</p><p>400K WORD HYPE! WE'VE BREACHED THE 400K MARK! WOOP WOOP!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Confidence, no matter how earnest, could only get Amanda and Constanze so far. They were nearly two miles from the finish line; their bodies battered, bruised, and weary. Maxwell, in his straw-man form, had suffered a few injuries which Constanze tended to “surgically” with a needle and spare thread. Otherwise, he was fine, and had been kept safe enough to be considered in good health by the trials standards. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze had just finished dispatching a particularly persistent trio of Spriggans; vaguely humanoid woodland creatures, typically feminine in gender, though of course lacking sex, made of bark given purpose by the spirits of the trees they were borne from. They were guardians of the glade, but had ventured out to aid in the trial. Constanze halted their charge for the final time with a spell she learned in part from Sucy: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Verdancia!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> A green spark snaked away from Constanze’s wand before darting off to constrict each of the Spriggans. They skidded to a stop, expecting to be bound by some kind of magic, but when they found themselves free to move their arms, they reset their focus on assaulting the witches. Constanze merely stood her ground with Amanda at her back. The latter grinned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Spriggans realized they weren’t making much progress, despite how much they commanded their root-like legs to…. Root-like! They were rooted in the ground! In fact, they were growing at quite a substantial rate! They became trees in their own right; small, but lush, rather than twiggy and barren. It would wear off in a while, but by then, the trial would be ended, one way or another. The lead spriggan groaned in an olde and raspy voice, a sort of hissing tone with drawn out vowels. “Weeeeee conceeeeeede….” The Spriggans put their arms up and out as leaves sprouted from them, letting their heads droop forward in surrender. For now, they would enjoy the spell’s spring-like comfort. She was merely glad that Amanda didn’t set them on fire. Again. These were the final enemies to assault them at this junction, leaving the group free to press forward once more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Constanze! Constanze! She’s our man! If she can’t do it, no witch can!” Frararanca cheered from the sidelines with a small cloud of Wisps, Fae no bigger than an acorn who were as bright as lightning bugs. They harmonized their cheers with the larger Sylph who danced and flew about joyously in the air. She’d been doing this almost every time they beat a group of foes. Constanze chuckled quietly to herself only to silence it by clearing her throat. Luckily, her helmet hid her blush. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Phew.” Amanda wiped her brow. She looked across the Loch and saw the marker. If she squinted, she could see Maxwell, his human body, still in a trance-like pose, with a bird having taken roost on his nearly bald head. “We’re on the home stretch!” Her heavy breathing accompanied an unsurpressible smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze’s relief was well hidden beneath her knightly helmet. For how cold it was, she was quite hot in that suit. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Note to self: If you decide to make a mech suit, make sure it has internal cooling.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her heavier garb underneath likely didn’t help with the over insulation. She looked to where Amanda had and nodded. “Twenty five minutes. Shouldn’t be much longer.” If they ran, maybe they could make it in fifteen, but good luck convincing either of them to sprint after all of the fighting they’ve done. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Best to take it slow and steady.”</span>
  </em>
  <span>  The sun had just about set, though it wasn’t terribly dark yet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell waddled over, smiling wearily. “Shall we get a move on then? No use delayin’ your victory now.” At this point, even he had been convinced that this trial was in the bag for the two witches, and it certainly wasn’t because it was easy. Amanda and Constanze agreed and started down the path, allowing Maxwell to follow. Frararanca and her cheerleading crowd of Wisps came as well, humming a victorious tune as they went up above the group. In the meantime, Maxwell looked inward. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thought back to all that they had faced. They took on a Wyvern, Hagstone Golems, Spriggans, a Gryphon, several groups of Highland Goblins, and even the Wisp swarms that now joined Frararanca in song, having been bribed by Constanze with a chocolate bar of all things; Wyld Fae were notoriously sweet-toothed, and the trial never demanded that every enemy be beat in combat. The Balefire was as much a coven of trained warriors and smiths as it was of trained mediators for magical matters on Earth. When Constanze and Amanda had to fight though, and that was quite often given the conviction of the foes that had volunteered to fight in the trial, they fought… interestingly, to say the least. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"They flounder about at first, but it's never like they don’t know what they’re doing.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Maxwell pondered. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“They may be inexperienced, but they’re more resourceful than any of the recruits I ever knew.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> They seemed more resourceful than even some veterans he used to know; with new blood came new ideas. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I just hope it’ll be enough to satisfy Asgall.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Maxwell wasn’t sure if Asgall would hold them to that five minute rule. It was quite a long time in theory, even if it seemed to blink by whenever someone wasn’t thinking about it. Not even Maxwell knew how he might approach Asgall in a dueling context. He thought back to one of the few times he saw his friend fight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> It was during the second world war: They were in Paris, within the catacombs which connected to the Balefire hold, deep under the city. The fascists had been looking to snuff out French resistance which was being aided by the Balefire and its agents, and a certain officer had taken special interest in seizing the Balefire’s holdings. The fascists had already implemented the use of “anomalous” weapons, and they knew the Balefire kept powerful armaments on hand. The nefarious commander had planned a nighttime ambush near one of the exits to the catacombs, having predicted that the Balefire would try to sneak their most powerful tools out of the city to prevent them from falling into fascist hands. What he hadn’t predicted though was that a monstrous man-bat, Asgall, would be among them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell couldn’t believe how little Asgall cared for their gunfire. Even bullets to the brain and heart, shots that should kill normal vampires, failed to falter him for more than a moment. Maxwell and his comrades needed only to cast a few spells and fire a few rounds before it was all over. Asgall had torn several soldiers limb from limb, and had thrust his claw up through that arrogant commander’s head from below the jaw; he didn’t even need to use his magic. The remaining fascists ran in terror as their leader’s body was unceremoniously dropped to the floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell’s mind went back to the present. He looked to Amanda in front of him, and glanced back to Constanze behind him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“They’re strong, but can they hold fast against that kind of power?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> And if they couldn’t, could they stand against Bathory and her ilk? Her knights were one thing, but if the midnight aristocracy was anything like it used to be, based on the accounts of Balefire scholars, hunters, etcetera, then the higher one was on the royal bloodline, the more powerful they usually were. Both by virtue of how much blood the nobles were allotted, and because they were the ones who typically lived the longest. It’s easy to grow old and powerful when you let others die for you, especially as a vampire. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hold up!” Amanda called out, drawing her sword and holding it out in front of Maxwell. He was brought back to the moment in full, his mind having wandered enough. His button eyes blinked and he wiped them with his mittened hands, looking dead ahead. A rider in black rode toward them upon a dark horse whose trail was as shadow; a sort of inky substance that shifted between liquid and gas before blowing away harmlessly in the wind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t remember meeting with this one….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Maxwell thought nervously to himself, but before he could focus on the distant, but fast approaching rider, Constanze came up behind him and grunted. A gesture of her head had him get back, and while he was curious and worried for their safety, he gave way to Constanze’s order. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frararanca bit her lower lip. She knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> what was coming; if that cannonball feeling in her gut was the one she remembered, then she had met a being like this before. A dark rider from the Gloom; servant to a Morgue Most Magnificent. “Umm… I’m… gonna… hide! Yeah! Uh, GOOD LUCK!” With that, Frararanca was away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cloud of wisps looked at themself. “US TOO!” They were not eager to be anywhere near the being which approached. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze and Amanda both looked back at their fleeing Fae friends, both gulping back a bit of infectious fright before turning back to the path before them from whence the rider came. Amanda brought her free hand to her brow and leaned forward as Constanze came up beside her. “You got binoculars?” The rider was far enough away to be hard to see clearly, but close enough to know that they would be upon the group in a few minutes, and there was no outrunning that horse. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Better.” Constanze muttered while holding her wand at each end with two fingers. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Transfiguralo.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A simple spell, but one that demanded focus and specific thoughts on the casters part, turned her own wand, for a few moments, into what Constanze was thinking of. In this case, it was a hand-held telescope, which she offered to Amanda who gladly took it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda scoped in with her right eye, adjusting it for a moment or so to properly center on the approaching rider. She got a good clear look at them. Part of her wished she hadn't. They wore a black dress, much like a maiden in mourning, though no head graced where there neck should be; more inky black substance leaked from that hole in her dress, spilling out into the air. In its left, deathly pale and almost ethereal hand, a veiled object, draped heavily in sable cloth, was held at the top by a strap. The being’s head lay beneath those veils. Once Amanda realized that, all of the hairs on her head stood up. She felt cold. Still, she examined the being further. The horse upon which it rode was pure black, alive, but not normally so. It wasn’t undead, not necessarily, which ruled out the possibility of it being a dread-steed, like the ones the Bathorys rode. Still, its eyes were pure white, and its hooves left behind that inky substance, which was certainly not normal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the… hell?” Amanda lowered the scope slowly. “They’re… a headless horseman?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm?” Constanze grunted, as if to ask if Amanda ever encountered one of these before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No…. No, I've never met someone like this. Heard stories of course, but those were fairy tales.” Amanda knew better than to wholly distrust fairy tales though, for what else would inspire their narratives save the realities of a magical world? “Maybe they aren’t here to cause trouble though.” Fae wandered the world now, just as they did in the past. Perhaps, if they weren’t part of the trial, then they were just riding by. And if they weren’t part of the trial, and weren’t just riding by… well. “They aren’t armed, so we should be alright.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You sure?” Constanze asked uneasily. This seemed wrong; it felt wrong in her gut, and even Maxwell seemed off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll check again….” Amanda raised the scope up again just to be sure of that statement. Then she heard hoofbeats. The rider was still coming closer, but there’s no way they were that close yet. Amanda’s eye was brought up to the scope, and immediately found itself focused on the decapitated head, obscured by veils, rendered black as pitch, though there was something staring at her from beneath blackness with cold, ancient eyes. It was right in front of her! “SHIT!” Amanda was tackled to the side by Constanze, who had blinked, only to find the rider so impossibly close now! Constanze’s quick thinking was the only thing that kept Amanda from getting trampled, and they were doubly lucky that Maxwell reacted quickly enough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The shadowy horse stormed past them both before rounding in a quick U-turn, halting half way through the motion at the behest of its silent rider tugging on the reins. It bucked up, standing on its hind heels and braying harrowingly to the sky; its cry was hollow, echoing, and wispy like, making it sound so very distant, but so very close, like the whispers of a stalker just behind you. The rider raised their head high, and from it, came a similarly invasive whisper of a shout. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“MAXWELL GLENDENNING!”</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell’s scarecrow body trembled involuntarily. An unnatural fear, a curse of sorts, had fallen upon him. He felt freezing, and he hadn’t been feeling much of anything before! Was he in </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> danger now? Who was this rider? Why were they— “I-It can’t be!” His memory caught up with him; tales of headless riders who pronounce the name of those about to die. “DULLAHAN! IT'S A DULLAHAN!” Before he could even run for cover, the rider let go of the reins and flicked its wrist out of sight. The next time any of the witches saw it, the Dullahan was holding a bone-whip, appearing to be the spinal cord of some unnaturally tall human, or perhaps it was a string of many spines mixed together; it was hard to tell. Its length seemed to vary, making it non-euclidian in nature. Then, just as Amanda and Constanze realized that the rider had come for blood, it lashed out with the whip to strike at Maxwell. The sharp, almost bladed looking end of the whip was gunning right for his straw-filled head!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda and Constanze both scrambled to their feet, with the former being first up given the lightness of their gear. Amanda sprung into action, leaping out with her sword held up to deflect the spine-whip. “I’ve got—!” She was successful in defending Maxwell, who scurried away in genuine panic, but Amanda didn’t plan for the possibility of the whip wrapping around her sword. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh no.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The thought ran through her head just as she felt the rider tug back with unnatural levels of strength. Amanda gripped on for death life to her sword and was subsequently dragged along, her boots skidding in the dirt. Amanda grunted in struggle against the Dullahan, but the ghastly woman’s strength was just too much! “C-Conz!” Amanda yelped out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze had gotten herself steady on her feet, and had procured her tools and wand once more when the call from Amanda rang in her ears. Hastily, she assembled her blaster and brought it to bear. With a careful, slow aim, Constanze leveled the sights of her weapon to be level with the length of the spine-whip. A resounding crack split the whip apart, sending bone fragments into the air as both parties reeled. Amanda stumbled back and fell on her rear while the rider was struck in the body by their own whip as it was flung back due to the sudden shift in pressure; a sharp end embedded itself in her chest, though no blood marked the dress. The dark horse bucked again before pawing anxiously at the ground; or was that pawing done with malice in mind? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda shook sense into herself and looked down to her sword. The coil of bone that had ensnared her had gone, and she didn’t see it anywhere else either. It was as though it was never there, prompting Amanda to blink thrice just to be sure she was seeing things right. Constanze had blinked and saw the same thing Amanda did; a lack of a spine. Then she looked to the recovering rider, who’s wound seemed to have also vanished, along with any damage to the whip. Constanze bit the inside of her cheek and raised her weapon again to fire at it. Then she heard Maxwell calling out from down the road:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“DON’T TAKE YER EYES OFF OF HER!” Of course, because he had yelled so suddenly, Constanze took a moment to glance in his direction to be sure he was alright. Amanda did the same, allowing the Dullahan all the time it needed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Constanze turned back, having spent no more than a half of a second with her eyes away from the Dullahan, she saw the rider had vanished into thin air; horse and all. “Verdammt!” She cursed, raising her blaster up and looking all around, sometimes double or triple checking some directions to be sure they were clear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda did the same as she clumsily got back on her feet, and eventually stood just behind Constanze. “Where the fuck did it go!?” Like Constanze, she could see nothing in any direction. She saw Maxwell running toward them as fast as his little legs could carry him, and knew that he was cursing his own methods, for as a straw-man, he would be unable to use magic or return to his old body unless he made physical contact with it. The only other way to return required his scarecrow body to be destroyed, though he had reservations about that now that a Dullahan was involved. That made their objective all the more important. If only they could find it again! “Maxwell! What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> is that!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I-It’s a Dullahan!” Maxwell realized that didn’t explain much as he came to stand in between Amanda and Constanze, who were nearly back to back now. “T-They’re Gloom Fae riders! T-They’re harbingers of death! They c-c-call out the names of those about to die!” When Dullahans call out the names of those whom they come for, should they be sick or otherwise on their deathbed, the call itself draws the soul from the body and into the Dullahans possession. Given Maxwell wasn’t near death, the Dullahan seemed interested in making that happen herself, and she would likely try to call his soul from the straw-man once it was destroyed and in transit back to his real body.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re about to die!?” Constanze’s flabbergasted and mortified expression was hidden behind her visor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-If we don’t get back to my body then I—” Distant hoofbeats. Now they’re close! Then they’re distant! Close! Away! Far! Near! “DUCK!” Amanda, Constanze, and Maxwell all dropped to the dirt as the rider dashed past them in a blur. The sound of air being cut above them where the spine-whip had slashed felt frozen, as if the particles there had ceased moving, if only for a moment. Then the rider was gone again, as was the sound she and her horse produced. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda and Constanze looked up warily, carrying Maxwell to his feet as they stood. “It keeps vanishing. Why.” Constanze asked with all due haste, and an imperativeness that turned her question to sound like a statement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell breathed heavily, despite being just a scarecrow. “Um… I… I don’t know! All I know is that they can’t vanish like that so long as someone is looking at ‘em!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good enough for me!” Amanda let go of Maxwell, drew her wand, and primed it with a fireball spell. “Just don’t lose sight of it and kick its ass!” Amanda seemed to forget how the damage done to it had simply been undone, or never seemed to register with the being in the first place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We-We-We should—” Maxwell stuttered before being interrupted by Constanze arguing with Amanda:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We need to run, not fight!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How the hell are we supposed to run from that!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll think of something!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We don’t have time to—” They didn’t have time to argue either, for the Dullahan was coming again! She manifested just ten feet in front of Amanda, who used her wand to fire off the orb of flame toward the rider. It impacted right smack dab on the head of the dark horse. A cloud of black smoke exploded where contact was made, obscuring the Dullahan in her entirety, while Amanda and company shuffled backward. Amanda held her breath, not wanting to even question whether or not she had succeeded; she'd let the smoke cloud speak for itself when it dispersed. When it did, nothing was there, save ash, and a bit of singed hairs and cloth shreds. “Hey…. I think….” No, she shouldn’t jinx it yet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We should run! Now!” Constanze demanded, shoving Maxwell along before he broke into a run that Constanze matched in speed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“GUYS! WE CAN’T JUST—!” Amanda tried to argue, but found herself running anyway, even if she thought this was a bad idea. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Need to signal for Asgall!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s he going to do!?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Something!” Constanze hated relying on chance, but it was all they had. Maxwell could hardly speak and run at the same time, his mind still awash in terror both natural and unnatural. That howling of his name, it lingered in his not-ears. He wasn’t even sure a Dullahan </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> be defeated, not in any traditional sense, so even he wasn’t sure what Asgall could even do about this, let alone why one was even here for him to begin with. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They ran for a few minutes more, dodging, ducking, and deflecting the occasional attack from their dark pursuer. From out of the periphery she would strike, sometimes riding in from the Loch itself, as though the water were no less solid than the earthy path the trio ran on. Her whip flashed in the evening twilight, bleeding Constanze, Amanda, and Maxwell on rare occasions. Sometimes she would be gone for whole minutes. Other times, she would only give them a moment's levity. Regardless, they were making terrible progress. Every attack sapped more and more of their already depleted reserves of vigor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>About five minutes into the chase, just after Amanda had been scraped by the whip on the outside of her left thigh, the firebrand witch growled in pure frustration. “AGH! ENOUGH OF THIS SHIT!” They were acting too defensively, in her mind. This was getting them nowhere, and they were bound to end up dead if nothing changed. She came to a sudden halt, one that Constanze took a moment to realize had even occurred as they grew to be several feet apart. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Constanze noticed, she skidded in the dirt and grabbed Maxwell by the arm to stop him too. “SCHWESTER, COME ON!” Constanze thought just the opposite. She saw that thing suffer a wound from its own weapon only to ignore it a moment later. This being wasn’t like the others; she worked differently, so very differently. Not even vampires worked on </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> level of obscurity. “WE HAVE TO GO!” She strained her voice to get through Amanda’s thick skull.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was for naught though; Amanda turned around at the sound of distant, but near hoofbeats, coming from behind her. She ignored Constanze’s demand and turned to face the threat. Time moved slowly, in a sense, as Amanda steeled herself to face the Dullahan head on. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Feed it glory, yeah!?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She imagined the flame within her soul; burning, yearning for more kindling. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll show you glory! I’ll show you valor!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>It stoked and billowed and burgeoned! She felt smoke in her lungs, a kind that didn’t inhibit her. Her blood ran hot for just a little bit as embers took to her veins. Then she was facing her: The Dullahan out to reap Maxwell’s soul. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>The dark rider came forth, having been bounding over hundreds of feet within the time between blinks, shifting in and out reality like a spectre. So long as Amanda kept her eyes on the rider, they couldn’t shunt themselves around reality, and were forced to ride straight for the sword wielding witch. The Dullahan was primed and ready to meet Amanda, blade to whip, spell to spirit. Her veiled head bellowed another wispy shout. </span><b><em>“MAXWELL GLENDENNING!”</em></b> <span>The bone whip cracked in the air before it was raised high to be launched forth in a singular strike, lashing out with a furious blow headed straight ahead of the charging horse. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda had raised her gauntleted arm, still having the dagger affixed to the chains. She planned to dodge the bone-whip flying toward her by going low and shooting out the daggered-chain. With it, she’d be able to get up close and personal to the rider. She’d tear her from her saddle!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Amanda ducked low, just as she planned to, having expected the attack. Constanze, behind her, fumbled to level her blaster on the Dullahan, and Maxwell nearly tripped as he spun about on his straw filled feet to turn around and run. When the chain flew over her, Amanda realized something. In those metaphorically slow, grueling seconds, Amanda quirked her head back to get the faintest of looks at where the chain was </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> aimed. The rider had never aimed to strike at Amanda, or Constanze for that matter. Every time her whip had been cracked, it was always meant to harm Maxwell, the man who’s name she wailed. Amanda and Constanze were merely in the way, or rather, they </span>
  <em>
    <span>put</span>
  </em>
  <span> themselves in her way, having deflected or otherwise obstructed any attack meant for Maxwell. Could the Dullahan even see Amanda or Constanze? Did it care for their existence? Questions for another time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What mattered now was the fact that Amanda knew her own dodge, her own risky gambit, had put Maxwell in mortal danger. Constanze was leveling a shot, and while she likely would realize the shot would hit Maxwell, she would realize all too late. Amanda could go forward with her plan, but the risk of Maxwell being killed by this was too great. If this was part of the trial, they couldn’t afford to fail it, period. If this </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> part of the trial, then they couldn’t afford to lose a trusted ally like Maxwell. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, hell no!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda thought to herself as she abandoned her prior plan. Instead of aiming her gauntleted hand at the rider, she instead reached up with it and snatched a section of the whip as it extended unnaturally, and swung vertically with her sword to further hinder the trajectory of the whip. Immediately, all felt to quicken again back to its normal pace, as the adrenaline died down, so to speak. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda screamed in horrific pain. The spine was jagged and sharp in many places, like a normal spine, and touching anything moving that fast was bound to spell trouble. Her hand was </span>
  <em>
    <span>eviscerated</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she lost her middle and ring fingers almost instantly, and the others were severely damaged by the knuckles where she dug her grip in. Her palm was split open in three places, with muscle and flesh being rent from the section just above her wrist, revealing a small bit of bone. Blood stained a sizable section of whip where it slipped through Amanda’s grasp until she got a firm hold of it. All of that meant nothing, not to Amanda. The bladed end was deterred! Maxwell was alive. That was what mattered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze was stunned by what had transpired, as was the rider, surprisingly enough. Her horse instinctively reined itself in, slowing its charge to a trot and then to a halt, seemingly at the rider’s behest. The Dullahan herself tried to pull back on the whip, gently almost, as if to merely reclaim it, but Amanda wasn’t letting go, and she had the rest of the whip firmly wrapped around her sword that was held up in the air. “AMANDA!” Constanze called after she processed what she saw, being unable to mistake those crimson stains and two pale digits in the grass below Amanda as anything but what they were. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda’s breath was shaky, as was her entire body. The flame seemed to smolder for a brief moment before it grew ever hotter! Amanda felt sparks in her hair, and both Constanze and Maxwell thought they saw the portions of her locks wave like pink and orange flames, but contributed the belief to a delusion set on by shock. Amanda steadied her trembling body, and spoke through grit teeth as the rider continued to pull on her whip. “Y-You want this back?” Her tone was furious, yet taunting. She pulled hard on the whip with her wounded hand, yelping in pain as she did, only to bleed her tongue just to silence the noise. Her tug had a purpose of course: She was now aiming her daggered-chain dead on at the Dullahan’s chest. Words floated through her mind, and her lips mouthed them, but she was in too much pain to utter them aloud. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Then I’ll give it to you!” </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Click! CLICKCLICKLCLICKCLICK!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The chain was away. The dagger embedded itself deep in the Dullahans chest, causing it to hunch over and reel in what must have been pain. She remained silent however, even as Amanda flew toward her, screaming out a battle cry, with her sword still wrapped in the whip, aimed to impale The Dullahan right above where the dagger had landed. The blade struck true, piercing through the space between the rider’s collar bones, and shooting out of the back. The crossguard of her sword was the only thing that prevented her whole arm from shooting through, the weapon having become well and truly stuck in the Gloom foe. Still, the rider did not dismount. It was as though she were bound to the saddle by magical means, and so Amanda was curled up with her feet pressing against the rider’s thighs for stability. Had the Dullahan been wearing its head where most humans did, then they would be eye to eye, but instead, Amanda’s focus was cast only on the wound. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No blood spilled from it; the Fae was likely not even human in a changed sense, but took on that shape for other reasons. Amanda breathed heavily. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s it.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re done.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She had to be! What creature survives a blow like that? And after all the pain Amanda went through just to fix her mistake, she couldn’t accept that it all would’ve been for nothing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“STOP! All of you!” Luckily for her, her efforts had not been in vain. Constanze, Maxwell, and even Amanda and the rider turned to face the gravelly voice that called to them from roadside. Asgall had come! He must have been shadowing them since the sun disappeared behind the mountains. He was raising his claws up and out toward the group and sounded as urgent as his expression appeared. “The trial is over! You may all lay down your arms!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze blinked, lowered her blaster, and then looked to Amanda. Her eyes focused on the crimson that dripped from the stumps where her ring and middle finger once were on her left hand. “This… was….” She started, but couldn’t finish as a mix of relief and anger took hold. “This was part of the trial!?” Amanda shared the same disbelief and frustration, especially because </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the one who suffered the worst. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was….” Asgall began, though Amanda butted in with a pained yell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then why the FUCK did Maxwell not know about this!? He thought he might die! For REAL!” Everything was numbed, if only for that moment, due to how baffled and enraged Amanda was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Asgall.” Maxwell looked stern, albeit a bit silly given he was still a scarecrow. “What’s the meaning of this? I thought I was handling this trial?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall cleared his throat, lowing his hands and clasping them together behind his back. “I courted the rider shortly after you left to begin the second trial. I feared that, since you would be both the one overseeing the test and acting as their charge, that you would be… too well informed of what they would face.” Was that awkwardness in his voice? “I do not doubt that you did not act out of turn, but I wanted to be certain that a more rogue element, an unexpected threat, would be present to challenge them.” Ge then gestured to the Dullahan who dangled their disembodied head in a sort of “nodding” motion, as if to agree with the statement. “I had chosen to summon her due to her… unique abilities. She is a deadly foe, one that I knew you would be unlikely to kill, even if you were trying to.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, Amanda looked back to the wound. Still, no blood came from the wound, and the rider only seemed inconvenienced by the blow. Amanda then fell from her awkward position, bringing the sword and dagger with her; the latter clicked back onto the gauntlet as she hit the ground with a thud. The rider trotted away to give Amanda space as the fallen witch groaned as the intense pain washed over her, hissing and lightly kicking at the dirt. She let go of the sword and held her wounded hand at the wrist with her right, clenching it tightly. Her eyes were clenched tighter than she ever thought possible, and her mouth was open, but no sounds, save for panting and pained noises, came out. Still, she heard someone running to her. By the sound of the metal plates clinking together, it must have been Constanze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The witch-gineer discarded the armor; the helmet and gauntlets at least. She had dropped her blaster frame as well, but took the wand with her. She immediately began chanting healing spells, though she knew only the most basic of magicks in that school, enough to stop the bleeding, but not to seal the wounds, let alone clean them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Meanwhile, Maxwell trundled over to Asgall, jabbing a stubby, hay filled arm in his direction, as if to point accusatorily. “You said you trusted me to handle this! And even if this was needed, did ye really need to send a </span>
  <em>
    <span>dullahan </span>
  </em>
  <span>to test them!? You know how dangerous they are!” The black horse sputtered and pawed at the ground. “No offense m-meant, miss.” The rider atop the horse dangled her head in a nod. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was for that exact reason that I sought her aid.” Asgall raised his voice defensively. “They intend to go against a foe whose capabilities are not fully known or understood. The Bathorys may be but vampires, but the weird witches, whomever they are, seem to hold immense power. And if they have described them to me correctly, based upon my most recent research, then I have no doubt that those witches wield eld magicks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell recoiled, having not even considered such a possibility until now. He shied away from such forces, fearing the influence from beyond as something unnatural, unbidden, and corrupting, as many witches did. “B-Be that as it may, y-you’ve no right to send something as dangerous as a dullahan there way. If she wasn’t so agreeable, then she could have easily decided to kill—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“CAN YOU TWO SHUT UP AND HELP!?” Constanze shouted, startling both Maxwell and Asgall; both jumped a little, not knowing just how </span>
  <em>
    <span>mad </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze could get. She was sat beside her writhing sister, trying with every part of her being to heal the potentially permanent wounds. Did they simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>forget</span>
  </em>
  <span> that Amanda had lost </span>
  <em>
    <span>two fingers</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Constanze had gathered both of the severed digits, and froze them both in water drawn from the Loch with a spell; she knew to do that much. She wasn’t a surgeon though, not anywhere close, and Amanda knew nothing of healing spells outside of the basics that all Luna Nova witches were taught. “ASGALL!” Constanze demanded. “GET OVER HERE!” She saw him regrow a tooth. He had to be able to repair Amanda’s wound, or else she might be tempted by rage alone to blast off two of his own claws. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall and Maxwell looked to one another, somewhat sheepishly. Both had… lets say, gotten wrapped up in the contrivances of the trial. They were accustomed to blood, death, so on, and so this seemed like little more than an accident to them. Maxwell though understood much more than Asgall did that such thinking didn’t excuse the dereliction of care, and so he gestured Asgall over to Constanze. “W-Well! Go on! Use your magicks!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall sighed then, having recentered himself. He pinched his nose with one claw and waved softly to Amanda and Constanze with the other. “Calm yourselves, all of you…. It will take only a moment.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“THEN STOP FUCKING AROUND AND DO IT!” Amanda and Constanze harmonized, their frustration channeled together, even as the latter still kept their eyes shut tight. This time, they actually didn’t mind speaking as one. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall moved the claw about his nose to cover his right ear. For all the benefits his better senses afforded, sensitivity was not among them. “Very well! Move aside then, Constanze.” Constanze reluctantly pulled back as Asgall approached and knelt down before Amanda. “Now, give me your hand.” Amanda stiffly pulled the wounded hand over near where she heard him from, and began to breath faster, but with greater control. She expected this to hurt. Asgall took the hand gently in his left claw while the right reached for the block of ice that contained the severed fingers. An unnatural heat, not fire magic, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>heat</span>
  </em>
  <span>, evaporated the block into liquid in nearly an instant; it came off of Asgalls palm once he held it aloft. The fingers harmlessly thawed out into his grasp and were subsequently cleaned of any frost that may have settled, though they did not burn. Asgall lowered his claws then and examined them closely, squinting to examine the severed section specifically, where the bone had been fractured. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall hummed thoughtfully, set aside the middle finger on a rag he produced from his simple waist-down dress. He took the ring finger then, and with a locksmiths care, settled the finger back where it should be. The bone was aligned perfectly, and held in place by Asgall’s firm grip. “Now, you must stay </span>
  <em>
    <span>absolutely</span>
  </em>
  <span> still.” He warned Amanda who froze up as best she could. “Good…. Now….” Asgall took a measured inhale through his flared nostrils. His chant began in earnest with a low, guttural growl. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Trinurr’ghnnaach, Jheur’dhuummm, Ankterrach, Ankterrach, Trinnur’ghnnaach.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>His Far Lunar tongue was hard to listen to. It didn’t sound right to be heard, as if the human ear wasn’t properly adapted to understanding the intricacies of the syllables; perhaps they weren’t even hearing certain utterances, for they ranged outside the discernable patterns of noise. The spell continued as a ring of crimson energies formed around where the finger was severed. It spun about two centimeters from the skin, unevenly tilting and twisting until the shape of the ring itself matched the exact proportions of the cut. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Jhaar’dehaak, Ghok’hiortu’dehaak.” </span>
  </em>
  <span> The ring then snapped to the wound, and smoke, no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>steam</span>
  </em>
  <span> began to radiate off of the spot where the energies manifested. Amanda howled, and needed Constanze to keep her down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“AAAA! MOTHER…! FUCKER!” She cursed and swore over and over again, but Asgall’s concentration remained unbroken. Amanda wanted to be so very mad at Asgall. She wanted to direct every one of those heinous insults and swears she was spewing toward him, but the voices that wracked her already pained mind prevented her. This was </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> fault after all. If she had just listened to Constanze, if she had just remained on the defensive, and focused on getting Maxwell to the objective—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pain got worse. Amanda’s other fingers froze as if they were afflicted by late stage arthritis. She mewled and squeaked out in acute pain as something </span>
  <em>
    <span>wholly unnatural</span>
  </em>
  <span> came over her. Her nerves; her nerves were </span>
  <em>
    <span>moving</span>
  </em>
  <span> in her hand. They were </span>
  <em>
    <span>growing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>spreading</span>
  </em>
  <span>, reforming what was lost from the wound. To describe it was to describe the feeling of a thousand tiny snakes under her skin, all writhing and wriggling and vibrating, and she could feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>every</span>
  </em>
  <span> movement. This wasn’t a healing spell, not in the tradition sense. No: This was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>reconstruction</span>
  </em>
  <span> of her hand, from root to stem. On a microbial level, cells were turned inside out and then put back together; </span>
  <em>
    <span>reborn</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She had a whole new layer of skin, but no flakes remained of the prior one, and the muscles under that skin felt fresher. Then came the second finger; Asgall didn’t stop chanting. It was all part of the same spell. Amanda’s right fist had formed into a snow-white fist, which she used to start banging the cold earth beside her repeatedly, knowing not else to do to mitigate or distract her from the pain. Constanze did all she could, in the meantime, maintaining a numbing spell that was </span>
  <em>
    <span>woefully</span>
  </em>
  <span> underpowered in comparison to the pain Amanda was experiencing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, after fifteen </span>
  <em>
    <span>gruelling</span>
  </em>
  <span> minutes of careful manipulation, above and beneath the skin, the process was complete. First the ring, and then middle finger were made to be whole one more. No scar tissue remained, nor was there any sign that a wound had even existed there. Asgall eased his grip and pulled his claws to his lap and nodded solemnly. “There. It is done.” And thus, he was greeted with a singular gesture of one of the reattached fingers; guess which one it was. “Charming.” He drolly retorted. Asgall may have been illiterate when it came to most slang and common parlance, but he was well aware of what that gesture meant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That…. Was…. Horrible….” Amanda said through heavy, but slower breaths. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall wrinkled his nose and rose to his feet. “And it could have been much, much worse.” He turned about then and walked toward Maxwell. “We may speak on the matter of your objection back at the hold.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze opened her mouth to speak, but Amanda beat her to it. “Hold... the fuck up!” And for once, Constanze would have been equally as rude in her phrasing. Maxwell and Asgall peered to look at Amanda who was flexing her fingers, still in a minor state of shock from what she had experienced. Though she did not look at them, her voice was carried toward them. “Did we lose...? Is that it?” She had to know. She had to know if </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> of it was worth the effort. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall hummed deeply, not in thought, more in understanding. “Nay. You have succeeded in this trial.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How?” Constanze asked, not wanting to object, but wanting an explanation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maxwell.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you tell them the purpose of this trial?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“O-Of course.” Maxwell cleared his not-throat out of habit. “This is a test of an initiates’ practical combat abilities, their ability to defend a charge, and their devotion to a given task.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye.” Asgall nodded. “Devotion is the key word here.” He then gestured to Amanda who had been aided by Constanze into a sitting position. “You saw that your charge was in mortal peril, and you went to such lengths to protect them that you risked life and limb to defend them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> is the ultimate sacrifice; the most we could ever ask of our hunters and smiths.” Amanda was silent, and so was Constanze. The latter had little to add, while the former was caught in a whirlpool of emotions and thoughts on this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She resented it. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucked up</span>
  </em>
  <span> and now she was rewarded for it. She did something she thought she would be more mindful of. In the moment, she hadn’t even considered just how </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span> it is to grab an object like that moving at such speeds. Of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course</span>
  </em>
  <span> her hand was going to be mangled! She was lucky it didn’t split open down the middle! She was luckier Asgall knew how to fix it at all, painful procedure or no.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Not even a scar to remind me.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> How else would she remember if not for the physical markers on her body? She was half tempted to make a scar there herself, something to get through to that reckless, foolish, daring do—No. No, that line of reasoning was no place of logic. Self harm would solve nothing, and she hadn’t ever resorted to it before, even if the desire arose once or twice before, back when she was young. The voices reminded her of that, but she shut up with an internal yell. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I DON’T CARE!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She did, but about so many other things that weren’t her blood familys’ opinions, real or imagined. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall continued given the quiet in the air. “You fought well. You nearly reached your goal, and to then fulfill the duty of one who holds the Balefire in her heart to its fullest, truly, it is something worth praise.” He felt quite proud for Amanda, actually, and his tempered smile conveyed as much, were it not for the creepy factor that came with his jagged teeth. He couldn’t imagine Amanda would be upset about this; about succeeding, that is. “From what I saw, I would say that I am quite confident in your ability to pass the third trial. You are both capable and ingenious witches in your own right.” When no smile graced their faces though, his own slowly melted away. “I suppose you need rest…. Wait here. I shall fetch your broom, and Maxwell.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm? B-But I’m right—” Maxwell paused. “Ah. Yes. Please.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Only then did the sputtering of the black horse draw anyone’s attention again. The Dullahan had been statuesque throughout the conversation since it last gestured; dead silent. Amanda and Constanze looked at her with hesitation, uncertainty. Her aura was simply off putting, in a way not dissimilar to the way Chaos was; not in the eld sense, more in the disquieting sense, no matter how long you looked at her, or how “used to her” you got. Maxwell shared that feeling, but Asgall, being a similar kind of creature, one of disquieting and strange nature, felt no such apprehension. He bowed deeply to the Dullahan and spoke: “I thank you, as does the Balefire, for your service, rider in black.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Dullahan swayed her head gently from side to side. Constanze could have sworn she saw a peak behind the black veil; nothing there. Nothing there. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nothing there. </span>
  </em>
  <span>A whisper on the wind, inaudible to all save Asgall. Constanze looked away, shooing the sight of the nothingness from her mind. Asgall nodded. “Aye. I can only imagine how busy you and your fellow riders are now that magic has returned…. I would hope that I am still uncounted among those you hunt? Or might you simply run me down for sport?” He asked with a grin. Was that laughter that came from the veiled head? “Yes, I suppose that, were I as you are, I would be content with the arrangements that your Matriarch put in place.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rider manifested her whip and gestured with an open palm before readjusting herself on the saddle. The conversation was all in good, morbid fun it seemed, based on the body language. Asgall chuckled. “I suppose I should have guessed that you and yours would prefer to rest rather than toil as you do…. Like many tasks so crucial to maintaining the balance, it is thankless work, no doubt.” The Dullahan nodded. “Ah… well, I have held you up enough then.” Another hand gesture and a bit of wispy laughter followed. Then the Dullahan pulled gently on her horse's reins, turning her steed toward the east, and beginning a steady trot away from the group. Her trot soon became a gallop, and when the moment came when everyone had either blinked, or was looking away, she vanished, leaving behind only a cloud of inky smoke that soon dissipated in the wind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall wasted no further time then in fetching the broom and body as he promised, and left the three witches to their own devices. Amanda, by that point, had finally started to calm down, though she would never truly forget that sensation. She looked up to Constanze, still lying on her back with her sister knelt over her in worry, and locked eyes. Constanze breathed a sigh of relief now that all seemed to be over for now, but her relief was not shared by Amanda. Constanze saw her sister’s face was wracked with guilt and disappointment. Amanda was trying to hide it behind a fauxly hopeful expression, but Constanze could sense the frustration and disappointment Amanda felt. “Did you—” Amanda shook her head before Constanze could even finish. She knew what was being asked. “Later?” Amanda closed her eyes and gently nodded. Then she laid her now renewed hand onto her chest; Constanze noticed how her ring and middle fingers twitched and tremored ever so slightly. Even if her nerves had been reconstructed, nothing, not even the magicks of ascended vampires, could ever fully nullify the symptoms that came with reattaching a severed body part. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One thought resonated in Amanda’s mind, all while they waited for the broom to be brought, and during the subsequent ride home; that all too correct, and ever vexing notion that Sucy supplanted in her conscious:</span>
  <em>
    <span> “You never change.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Two hours later</span>
  </em>
  <span>….</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How about now?” Frararanca sent another soothing pulse through Amanda’s left wrist, a cold sort of sensation that helped numb the strange tingling sensation that persisted long after the procedure had been finished. “Does that feel better?” She and a few wisps had come along with Amanda and Constanze back to Maxwell’s humble abode to assist in tending to their wounds and weariness. She did most of the direct healing, while the wisps danced and sang calming tunes in the air, reminiscent of songbirds, but with long, drawn out, and calming notes rather than high pitched chirps. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Amanda quietly replied, her eyes closed as she laid back on her cot. “That’s a bit better.” The tremors came and went. When she was focusing, they were easier to control, but after an hour or so of trying to keep them still, they started to ache. She hoped they would pass in a day-or-so’s time, but none of them knew how long it would actually take for the digits to be properly reaccepted as part of her body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good! Anything else I can do for you two?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mm-mm.” Constanze shook her head. She was sitting beside the cot with her head against a pillow that she laid up against the wall. Both her and Amanda had changed into comfortable clothes, knowing well that they would need to armor up again later, but wanting to give their bodies a breather, literally and metaphorically. “Fine now. Thanks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yay!” Frararanca clapped her hands together several times in quick succession, fluttering with returned glee. “Now you’re both ready to take on the world all over again!” She boxed the air in front of her, grunting and cheering playfully as she did so. When Constanze and Amanda both didn’t seem adequate jazzed up by such delight on Frararanca’s part, the Sylph hummed lowly in childish frustration. “Oh come on you two! You won! That </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> to make you guys at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>kinda happy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, right?” She pouted, putting her hands on her hips as she floated down to be eye level with Constanze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze looked to Frararanca with slight surprise, not expecting her to get so close. She also seemed to want an answer from Constanze, who was at a slight loss for words. The witchgineer had hoped to give her voice as much of a rest as she gave her body, but clearly Frararanca wouldn’t let her have that respite. “I’m glad we beat it, but it was close. Too close.” She didn’t want to say more, and instead looked to Amanda, hoping she would be able to speak more on the matter. After all, Constanze felt it was Amanda who had actually suffered. Constanze herself was actually quite satisfied with how they fared, but the aura Amanda gave off ever since then just made it feel wrong to celebrate. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“She said she’d talk later.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Does later mean now? She doesn’t need to be pushed.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She’d tell Frararanca that herself, but felt it was best to let Amanda speak for herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda opened her left eye and looked to Frararanca lazily. Then she sighed, deciding that it would be easier to just get this over with rather than argue with a Wyld Fae to leave her alone. “I’m relieved, yeah, but I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why not!?” Frararanca threw her arms up, only to let them slap back down to her sides. “You two kicked serious butt out there! I even talked to the Wyvern you guys thrashed, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> was impressed!” Dragons, and all Dracolid beings, descended, divergent, or otherwise related to Dragons, held one unifying factor between them: Pride. They were seldom impressed by mortals, or other Fae for that matter. “If </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> doesn’t cheer you up, then I don’t know what will.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda looked to the ceiling before closing her eyes again. “Can’t I just feel like shit?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frararanca cocked her head to the left. “Eh?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just let me feel this, ok?” Amanda adjusted her body to be more comfortably laid down on the otherwise stiff cot. “Sometimes you just… need to work through things. Right now, I need to do that. Ok?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ugh! How is wallowing in your own fussiness going to—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Frararanca.” Constanze interjected, catching the Sylph’s attention. “Stop. Let her be.” Her serious tone was enough to give Frararanca the impression that this was more than just a prideful fit over performance and injury. Constanze took a deep breath then before speaking further. She could empathize with “needing to feel things'' in order to get through them. “Or at least let me talk to her.” Though Amanda didn’t have to feel it alone. Constanze’s query came with a glance shot her sister’s way, gauging her response. Frararanca tightened her lips and looked to Amanda, holding her hands by her chest in anticipation for what Amanda would say. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Frararanca sighed exasperatedly. “Okaaaaay….” Then she flew off to the nearby table and sat on the edge. The wisps ceased their singing and joined her there, dangling their little legs over the edge and chatting quietly amongst themselves. Frararanca would let Constanze and Amanda sort things out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Conz.” Amanda put her hands behind her head with a grunt, wincing as the pressure became applied to her reattached fingers; it stopped the shaking, but the numbness from Frararanca’s spell felt weird when her hand was squeezed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” Constanze tried to get to the point.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pff. Guess.” Amanda rolled her head to the left to look at Constanze who was glancing over her own shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze shifted, turning about to look at Amanda more directly. She hesitated to “guess” as instructed, not being as adept at reading people like Sucy, but tried her hand at it eventually. “You're mad we didn’t beat the trial the normal way?” Technically, they beat it in one of two valid ways; neither condition was more or less valid, and both had been upheld in the past for all initiates who came before, but they lacked such context. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean, yeah, but….” But that context didn’t matter when Amanda was faced with her internal struggles. “But I don’t care if we fail. As long as we get what we need and save the academy, I could care less what happens to me.” Yet she couldn’t care more. How could she think both things at once? She certainly didn’t know how, let alone why. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze hummed apprehensively. “You should care.” She muttered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, you heard ‘em.” Amanda thought of Asgall’s words, as if they were meant to be comforting in that moment. “A sacrifice like that is the most they could ever want out of someone. I mean, I can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>blame </span>
  </em>
  <span>them. When shit gets rough like this….” Amanda sighed. “Look: People have already died. That’s all I’m saying. We can’t get out of this without needing a few new tombstones, but we gotta try and make sure we need as few as possible once the storm dies out.” Constanze sucked her lips in gently, knowing where this train of logic was heading. “And if that means I gotta sack myself at some point during this to save you, Hannah, Barbara, or, well, more people in general, then yeah, I guess I just have to do that.” Amanda clearly didn’t like the idea of it. As “brave” as she made herself out to be, no mortal was ever truly prepared to face death; especially not a twenty-something punk like her with two loving girlfriends, a newfound sister, and a bunch of other friends who cared for her deeply. Still, the grimness of reality could not be evaded forever. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But you don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to. No one is demanding you sacrifice yourself. Your life matters too.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda groaned. “I know! And that’s why I feel like shit!” She looked down at Constanze’s lap while continuing. “Because no matter how much I try and care about myself, I end up just doing whatever feels right, and that usually means putting myself way in over my head!” Constanze listened quietly, extending her hands out to gently rest them on Amanda’s arm for comfort. Amanda didn’t mind, but she didn’t notice it at first either. “And the worst part is, I really </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> need to do that. I didn’t need to be a dumbass and grab that whip. I could have… I dunno, I could have done </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> else.” Then she shook her head. “No, even if I couldn’t do anything else to keep Maxwell from gettin’ skewered, I shouldn’t have broken off from you and tried to play the ‘badass hero’ card. That’s the kinda shit that…. It’s gonna get me killed, and it nearly has way too many times already.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A pause followed, giving Constanze a chance to speak. “You know what’s wrong. It’s more insight than what you had a week or so ago.” Constanze wasn’t about to “solve” Amanda’s problem. She couldn’t even if she wanted to. No, Constanze knew that, like her own issue with her family history, Amanda had to reconcile this internally. Constanze was merely here to help her along and support her on that journey. “What’s the roadblock?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m half tempted to say it’s that fire in me, but this was a problem </span>
  <em>
    <span>long</span>
  </em>
  <span> before any of this shit happened.” Amanda waved her right hand lazily before putting it back behind her head. “So I know it’s my fault, and my fault alone.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze pursed her lips. “It was an honest mistake. We can’t be—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t…. Just don’t.” Amanda rolled over, looking away from Constanze who pulled her hands back to her lap. “Sorry. But don’t make excuses for me. This pattern’s gone on long enough, and I’m tired of just never </span>
  <em>
    <span>being </span>
  </em>
  <span>enough.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Never being enough?” Constanze quirked her head. Amanda had told her a bit about how much of her bravado was false confidence, but was it all connected to her gung-ho nature? </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Compensating…?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze thought, but chose not to say. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda felt her fists tighten briefly before she threw herself up into a sitting position. “I wasn’t enough for my folks, but fuck them. I wasn’t enough for the academy, because I was a delinquent little shit, and now I’m barely enough for when it really matters most: When lives are on the fucking line!” Her gaze shifted back to Constanze, revealing her scrunched up and rueful expression. “Because I’m gonna end up getting myself killed trying to do the right thing, so no matter what I do, I’m gonna be the bad guy.” Constanze leaned back a bit as Amanda raised her volume further, silencing any chatter the Fae were having nearby as they too focused on Amanda. “If I don’t give it my all, then who knows who the fuck isn’t making it out of this. And if I do give everything, and I mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>, then Hannah, Barbara, you…. God. No one’s gonna forgive me for that. I’m gonna die like the hot headed, short sighted, short lived punk everyone always knew I would be.” Amanda looked down at her lap where her left hand rested; her ring and middle finger twitched in the fist she had formed, making it uneven. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frararanca and the wisps all looked to each other with the expected levels of awkwardness on their face. Quietly, they excused themselves, realizing that, yes, this was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> personal matter. Constanze paid them no mind as they flew out of the door that creaked just a hair to let them slip by. She focused on Amanda and her words, feeling the weight of every utterance just by how genuinely it was all intoned. She had to muster up her own strength to combat Amanda’s pessimism, speaking flatly with a slightly furrowed brow. “You can’t just assume something’s going to happen. I know your family made you believe you’re the worst person ever, but you said it yourself: Fuck them. Fuck everything they said. They have no idea who you are. They don’t have the </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> to say what you are or aren’t. They never will.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda held her face with her right hand, her left still being stuck in that uneven fist. Through the cracks between her fingers, Amanda looked somewhat toward Constanze. “God, I wish that was true, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>I still hear them!</span>
  </em>
  <span> I hear them ALL of the time!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“H-Hear them?” That caught Constanze off guard, bunting her sharpened resolve to see Amanda through this. “What do you mean?” Constanze needed to know more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I told you! I….” Amanda sighed sorrowfully and dropped her hand. The other opened up on her palm as she looked more directly at Constanze. “Alright, look: I hear them in my head, ok? The shit they said to my face? I hear that. The insults they said behind my back? I hear that. All of the things they said I could never do? The things I wanted to do, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>shouldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>, because it meant I was a deviant freak and a waste of time? I still fucking hear it, Conz!” Amanda looked afraid; angry, but afraid. Afraid that she wouldn’t ever be able to escape those voices. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze redoubled her resolve. She needed to be strong when Amanda was weak, for Amanda had done the same for her. “Amanda.” Constanze’s confidence and determination to see Amanda through this was not lost on her sister. Amanda listened intently, minding her breathing, keeping it steady. “I want you to take this seriously: Is a bird a human, true or false?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda blinked, her expression becoming a mix of confusion and that prior fear and anger. “W-What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I said take it seriously. There’s a point. Is a bird a human?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda hesitated, wondering if this was a trick question. “No…?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze leaned her head forward as a result. “Mmm.” She wanted a more confident answer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. No, that doesn’t make any sense…. Why are you asking me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What if I told you that a bird was a human?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Conz, what the hell are you—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, alright!” Amanda wiped her eyes clear before responding to Constanze’s question. “Then I’d say you’re stupid.” Amanda snarkily muttered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right. Because that statement is </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> false. What if I told you that a bird was a human a thousand times in a row? Would I be right?” Amanda shook her head, sighing, for the meaning of this exercise was lost on her. “Exactly. No matter how many times your parents said that stuff about you, no matter how many times you hear them say it, memory or not, they’re wrong. They’ll always be wrong. A statement that is always false is always false. No exceptions.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda scoffed. “Weren’t you the one telling me to take care of myself more? Should I just ignore all of the shit you said about doing things for me, because all of that criticism is false?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course not.” Constanze scooted closer, taking Amanda’s hands in her own. “But what did your family tell you? Did they tell you that you need to take better care of yourself?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No….” Amanda instinctively tightened her grip around Constanzes’ smaller hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did they ever tell you to be honest about your feelings?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” Amanda’s sullenness and fear was overtaken by anger at a slow and steady pace. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze returned the squeeze on her hands. “Did they ever tell you to love who you were? To do something you wanted to? To be happy? To—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No! No! NO!” Amanda silenced the room once again with her rage filled voice. Constanze was the only thing keeping her grounded, and the only thing keeping her from wanting to drown herself in booze. Her eyes were downcast. She couldn’t look Constanze in the eye regardless if she was thankful for what Constanze was trying to do. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze took a deep breath, keeping calm, level headed, and focused. “I know that telling you what they said shouldn’t have an effect on you is bulschit. It’s just…. You need to…. Agh.” Constanze shook her head, pulling away from the handheld position to fetch her paper and pen. She wrote out the rest of her responses, allowing her thoughts to flow easier. “You’re allowed to feel the way you do. What they said and thought about you is horrible. But you can’t accept those things as true. All they did was tell you how to be useful </span>
  <em>
    <span>to them</span>
  </em>
  <span>. All they did was try to make you someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>you weren’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” The specific words were ones she underlined to accentuate her points. Amanda read along as her sister wrote, soaking it all up as her eyes soaked in a different manner. “Their opinions don’t matter. Even if they made some offhand comment that was true, I’m sure that you’d be better off hearing that comment from someone who loved you. Someone like Hannah. Like Barbara. Sucy. Diana. Akko. Lotte. Jasminka.” Then Constanze spoke, placing her free hand over her chest. “Like me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda inhaled sharply, forcing back the tears that started to form. “I know…. I know…. But how do I… how do I </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop</span>
  </em>
  <span> hearing them? I know they’re all liars and that I shouldn’t care, but they just… follow me.” Amanda shook her head. “And it’s always when…. It’s always when I’m trying to do something for the better. It’s always when I’m fightin’ my heart out. It happened during the trial. It happened down in the sanctum. It happened…. God it feels like it’s non-stop!” She buried her face in her hands, rubbing her fingers in a circular motion right above her eyebrows. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze nodded with understanding. She didn’t experience voiced memories of her trauma, not as bad as Amanda was describing it, but she had also found ways to handle it over the years; Amanda likely never did. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“She’s just denied that it’s happening. Act like it isn’t there until it goes away.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze tried to do that when she was younger, but she was quick to learn that it didn’t work. “Amanda.” Her sister peered through the cracks between her fingers and raised her head slightly. “It’s ok. They can’t hurt you anymore.” Neither could Constanze’s family. Not anymore. The one “upside” to their demise. Constanze then held up her notepad, revealing her message: “You’re stronger than they ever could have imagined. You may not trust yourself, but I trust you. So does Hannah, Barbara, everyone we care about. They’re counting on us. Why else would they send us out here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda read the words once, then twice more. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I hate when she makes sense.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Not because Amanda wanted to suffer, but because she wished she could arrive at these simple conclusions on her own; one day she’d learn to feel fine relying on others when her heart grew weary. Still, this didn’t part the storm clouds, nor would anything Constanze said. Only Amanda could rid her own mind of that all-shaking thunder. “It’s not like they had many options…. Who else was gonna drive the bike?” Excuses, excuses. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s not the point.” Constanze flatly remarked. “Don’t you remember how they cheered you on? They were praising you, and you still act like they were just pitying you, or were being dumb by picking you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda couldn’t argue with that. The memory was clear in her mind. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>really did</span>
  </em>
  <span> trust her. She could argue about something else though. “And how does that make the voices go away? How does that stop me from just beating myself up all of the time?” At least she was more plainly admitting her problem now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze took a moment to write a response down. “Use that fact as a reminder to yourself. Every time the trauma tells you that you can’t do something, that you’re a bad person, remember all of the times you proved them dead wrong. Tell yourself why you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> a good person, and why you </span>
  <em>
    <span>deserve</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be trusted and loved. Don’t let them beat you. Don’t let them win.” The word “win” was thrice underlined. As Amanda read the paper, lowering her hands to do so, Constanze spoke up, a soft smile forming on her face. “Does Amanda O’Neill lose? Ever?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda tried not to look at Constanze directly. If she did, the smile might spread. “I mean…. Sometimes….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda fell silent, her lips quivering into a smile for the most fleeting of moments. “Fuck you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, fuck you. Does Amanda O’Neill ever lose?” Constanze set aside her pen and pad to grab Amandas’ hands again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know! I did at… some… point.” Amanda tried too hard to be objective when she usually never cared about being right for the sake of it; pessimism was hard to shake. Constanze cocked her head and raised a brow in response, prompting Amanda to try again. “Well I certainly lost the parent lottery.” At least she was making jokes now, dour as they were. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze stifled a chuckle to grunt in query. “Mmmm?” She essentially repeated her question. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No…?” Amanda whispered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I said no….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmmmm?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Christ on a fucking bike, Conz! No! Ok! No! Amanda-Freakin-O’Neill doesn’t lose! There! Happy!?” Amanda just realized how loud she was then, and that she was smiling, even as her tongue still tasted of anger. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That depends.” Constanze squeezed her hands once. “Are you going to start trying to trust yourself? Loving yourself?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll… try. I can’t promise shit though. I’m twenty two and still haven’t gotten over any of this. I still haven’t changed.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> twenty two. And you </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> change. Change in the ways that matter to you.” Constanze leaned in close for a hug, wrapping her arms about Amanda’s shoulders. “We survived the worst of it alone. Help each other through the rest of it. Easier by comparison.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda was slow to return the hug, but she did so eventually, albeit weakly. “Fine….” She stared off into the cabin front of her, over Constanze’s shoulder, her mind elsewhere. “I’ll try.” Trying was all she felt she could do. She just hoped she’d remember to try when it mattered most: In the heat of battle, when the voices egged her into ever more dangerous situations. Where her own recklessness got the better of her roguish wit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mm.” Constanze nodded during the hug. Her grunt was her way of saying “thank you” in that moment, for now she well and truly needed a rest from speaking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That left Amanda alone with her thoughts for a short while. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“So what do I do? Just say something nice whenever I tell myself something bad?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Essentially, that was what she was being told to do, and it seemed so… base; too easy to work. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I guess it’s a start…. I wouldn’t let someone else talk to me like that to my face, so why let myself do that?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda tightened the grip on her hug and closed her eyes. Her thoughts continued. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I guess they trust me. She trusts me, everyone back at Luna Nova trusts me, hell, even Maxwell and Asgall seem to trust me, and I’ve only known those two for a few days….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She sighed. Her thoughts went to the flame within. She couldn’t ignore how it burned her blood and smoked her lungs when she fought against the Dullahan. She lost her fingers, but she felt… powerful. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Definitely not worth it.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her inner voice tried to sound firm. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“But… there’s somethin’ about that fire.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Amanda opened her eyes and looked up at nothing in particular. She thought of Jehanne, of Vaal, of the Balefire: Things that she and Constanze were coming to understand and emulate despite being wholly ignorant of all three things over a week ago. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I guess she trusts me too….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jehanne told her to burn brightly, to seek glory, that this fire was </span>
  <em>
    <span>hers</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Amanda’s expression tensed once more. She scowled slightly with seriousness. The words she meant to think escaped her lips in a whisper: “Time to see if she really trusted me with what I think she did.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?” Constanze somewhat heard what was said, but wasn’t sure if she was just imagining things. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Conz.” Amanda broke away from the hug and gestured with her head toward the door. “I’ve got something to check out before the third trial. It’s important.” The scowl remained, confusing Constanze for a moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm…?” Constanze asked, which Amanda understood to be a query of: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Do you feel better?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll feel better when I figure out just how trusted I am.” Amanda rose to her feet, collected her wand, snatched up the broom, and beckoned for her sister. “Come on. I want you there with me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How… trusted…?” Constanze tilted her head, clearly puzzled. “Mmm?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll explain on the way.” Amanda opened the door, holding it for Constanze to pass through it first. “Trust me. It’ll help me work through this.” She hoped. The Balefire called from within the hold: Amanda and Constanze would answer. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A few minutes later….</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s no changing your mind then…?” Maxwell slumped back into the old wooden chair he’d sat down in, his chest deflating with a long, quiet sigh. He was back in his fleshy body, but occasionally found straw and hay in his clothes for a reason he couldn’t explain. Hopefully, that side effect would fade in time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall had his back turned to his friend. They had finished their brief argument a little while ago, and Asgall had admitted that it was hasty of him to call for one such as a Dullahan to ride forth to meet the initiates. Asgall had faced them before, and he knew very well how dangerous they were when they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> trying to kill someone, or something. Worse, Dullahans were well known to be difficult to negotiate with, for while it was rumored they were once human or Fae in life, what they had become in death was something that twisted and supplanted their prior personality, were such claims about being borne from resurrected souls true. Asgall was lucky to have called forth such an amicable one, and one who even humored his request to begin with, both for the “inanity” of it, and for the fact of what Asgall was: Something Dullahans hunted, were it not for his “arrangements,” as he put it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was pouring over several texts about his own kind, not for lack of knowledge, but to serve as a reminder for himself; something to jog his memory. Some texts were particularly profane, so much so that Asgall had sealed them with his own vampiric magicks, making him the only one who could unlock the Far Lunar mana-locks. Those were the ones that actually described the spellcraft of ascended vampires, penned by ancient beings who were much like him. “You have swayed me many times from ill course, Maxwell,” Asgall began as his eyes scanned a few lines of text from one of the aforementioned spell-scrolls. “But for weal or woe, I must press forward with the third trial. Nothing shall suffice to substitute in my stead.” He paused to mutter the Far Lunar words, committing certains incantations to recent memory that his arsenal might be ready for the fight ahead: As he said before, it had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>long</span>
  </em>
  <span> since he last fought with his magicks. “If they wish to destroy the Bathorys, then they must be ready to face the absolute worst of what our foes have to offer.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But we don’t even know if the Bathorys are even </span>
  <em>
    <span>aware</span>
  </em>
  <span> of that kind of power!” Maxwell held his head in his left hand while gesturing outwardly with his right. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We cannot afford to take the chance that they do!” Asgall looked back over his shoulder. “They may be aiming to conduct the profane rite as we speak. If they succeed, and are able to roam freely with that power, then untold chaos will follow in their wake!”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Haven’t they proven themselves enough? Especially after that encounter with the Dullahan.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall sighed, shook his head, and turned back to his scrolls. “Were you not the one who wished for us to return to the olde ways? Were you not the one chomping at the bit to see our traditions revived?” Maxwell </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> the one, after all, who convinced Asgall to conduct the initiation ritual in its olde form, even though time is of the essence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Maxwell wrinkled his nose and rolled his eyes. “And I’m also the one who joined the order in the middle of a bloody war! I faced no trials, went through little ceremony, and why should I have?” He propped up his posture then, leaning forward and pointing as he continued. “It was a time of crisis! Even you knew that the order couldn’t afford to go about business as usual with such conflict unfoldin’ all over the world.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was then. Now is now…. The order is no more. Not in the same way.” Asgall lazily traced a claw along one of the spines of a tome. His mind briefly went to the future, where he saw only more dark clouds gathering. “Perhaps they have proven themselves worthy, in a time long gone by, when the world was more accustomed to magic, when all was closer to the balance….” Asgall was not usually a sentimental man, but, in his own words, even the most ascetic and devout of monks will sometimes falter in his chasteness. “But we do not live in those times. The Bathorys may fight as they did in the past, but if they pilot a flying machine, then they are certainly not rejecting the modern ways outright. Even then, the Bathorys are… only part of my concern.” Maxwell listened intently, wanting to know where this led. “I would wager that the Bathorys </span>
  <em>
    <span>do not</span>
  </em>
  <span> know the way to ascension, and seek only the power held in the secrets of Luna Nova; of the weird witches, I cannot speak, save for my presumption that they are influenced by eld forces.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So what else has you worried?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The powers that be on Earth. The forces beyond reason and logic: Mankinds’ imperial armies. The contradictions of its own governance. The bottomless greed that fuels the devastation of this planet, and all beings who dwell upon it.” Asgall examined his left claw then, minding its sharpness and length. “The Bathorys are but a symptom of a disease that has long sought to divest humanity of its own humane qualities. With the Fae now returned, surely, you must know that tensions are high among the mundane.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell nodded somberly. “Aye. I’ve heard some horror stories. The lucky ones get run out of town. The unlucky ones….” He dared not speak of the headlines, let alone the articles in full. “The magical folk in the world, Fae or otherwise, won’t stand for it long.” He’d already heard about a few cases of witches striking out against various communities in response. Those witches and Fae that wanted justice were measured in their retaliation. Woe betide those who got in the way of those that wanted revenge in the truest sense of the word. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye, they will not.” Asgall lowered his claw and turned about fully then. “And it is why Amanda and Constanze must be ready for anything. It is not their duty to change the world all on their own, but with the order in this sorry state…. They will only have each other for quite some time.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be so sure of that!” Amanda called out from about twenty feet away. Surprisingly, she and Amanda had snuck up on Maxwell and Asgall in the grand hall; a serious conversation like that was bound to distract Asgall from his enhanced senses. The two initiates stood before them in the center of the hall, with Amanda holding the broom she had behind her head, long ways, with both arms. Constanze was holding onto her backpack by the straps, with a newfound determination on her face; the kind that came with wanting to put a mystery to rest, which was exactly why they were here. “We’ve got friends to save, and when we save them, we ain’t ever gonna be goin’ it fully alone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahh. You are early.” Asgall remarked before properly replying to her statement. “Do you mean to say your friends would join the order?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Probably not.” Constanze replied, adjusting her pack with a grunt. “Not what we mean. They’re always there for us.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmmmm….” Asgall crossed his arms about his chest slowly. “The powers of companionship are oft overlooked, but I mean to say that you will be alone in the more literal sense. Only Maxwell and I remain as members of the order.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So we won’t be alone then, is what you’re saying?” Amanda coyly grinned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall cleared his throat, realizing his own logic had fallen flat there. “My point remains.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look, if you can rope two witches you don’t even know into joining your order, crisis situation, weird fires, and family matters aside, I think we can get some more people to join us.” Amanda nodded once. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not like you two were the </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> witches I convinced to join anyway.” Maxwell added as he stood from his seat, calling his staff to him with simple magicks so that he might support his body. “Though, you two were the only ones who chose to come with me immediately. The others are likely en route as we speak, or will be in a matter of days.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall raised a brow and cocked his head at Maxwell. “You did not mention this until now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well….” Maxwell rubbed the back of his head. “We were busy! There was a lot to cover with Amanda and Constanze, on their end and ours.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fair enough.” Asgall then turned back to the two witches. “Though, my earlier statement holds true regardless: You are early, and no doubt need more rest.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze shook her head twice. “Mm-mm. Mmm.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When neither Asgall of Maxwell understood, for obvious reasons, Amanda translated. “She’s sayin’ we’re fine, and we are.” Amanda wasn’t, but not in the physical sense, though that damnable twitching remained. “We ain’t here for the trial either. Not yet at least.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So… what are you here for?” Maxwell queried.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda spun the broom from above and behind her shoulders to an upright position on her right side, holding it in one hand. “We made a deal, remember? You’d let me see the Balefire here so I could see if anything would happen.” Amanda seemed like she was back to her confident self, though she wouldn’t let herself get easily distracted from why she came. If she was going to tackle that self doubt of hers, then she needed to know </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> where she stood in relation to the world. Thus, the fire within must be understood. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A-Ah! Y-Y-Yes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> deal….” Maxwell avoided Asgall’s deadpan stare, looking off at nothing in particular. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What deal?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell cleared his throat. “Amanda promised she’d join the order if the flame within her reacted with the Balefire…. If what she told me is true, then she may possess the original flame.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall palmed his face. “Ugh…. This again.” How he loathed investigating prophecies and other romantic notions of predestined fates. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, you made a deal like that?” Constanze blurted out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhh, yeah?” Amanda shrugged, wondering why this was a big deal at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I must say, it seems a bit moot now since you’ve already joined us, Amanda.” Maxwell chuckled weakly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” And yet Amanda had completely forgotten about said deal until today. A long silence followed, as awkward as could be. “Right…. Can I still see it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell shook his head, looking suddenly stonewalled. “No.” The silence returned then before Maxwell started laughing a little, followed by Constanze chuckling, which wrapped Amanda up in it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall could only scratch at his spiny scalp. “The humor is lost on me. And why are you making such deals without informing me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell shook his head and waved calmly to Asgall. “Fret not, friend. It’s nothing. To be honest, I can’t imagine there’d be any harm in lettin’ Amanda and Constanze here see what the Balefire is. I mean, they </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> members now, initiates or not.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I suppose….” Asgall let his claws droop again as he hunched in a relaxed sort of way. “Are you certain that this fire of yours is not some malevolent force that has possessed you, or otherwise cursed you?” He prompted Amanda with a gesture of his right claw. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhhh, I don’t think so.” Amanda shrugged once more. Everything seemed fine about the fire within. Sure, the heat was a little uncomfortable sometimes, and that moment during the battle against the Dullahan felt weird, but she couldn’t even pin that on anything in specific. Maybe she was just imagining things amidst the shock her body experienced. Nevertheless, even if she did feel smoke in her lungs and embers in her blood, it didn’t hurt. It merely occurred and passed, like some kind of physiological response. “It’s never done anything to make me feel like it is beside that initial bit of burning, but beyond that, no.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then what purpose shall this inspection serve?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-Why’re you so apprehensive about it?” Amanda stammered, not exactly wanting to open up to Maxwell or Asgall. “It’s just a fire right? I mean, I get it’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Balefire</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but us just lookin’ at it won’t put it out, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall clacked his teeth together once. “I prefer to keep it sealed unless it is absolutely necessary. The fewer disturbances the better.” Though it was wholly symbolic, Asgall didn’t even want to chance the slightest of breezes burning out the flame. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze stepped forward and gave Asgall a hard stare. Not one of confrontation or anger, but of confidence and determination. “We need to see it. It’s important. For both of us.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall was not often moved by firm words alone, but he had a feeling that Constanze might be implying that it mattered to her search for information about her family. That, and he couldn’t deny them from it forever. Maxwell was right after all: They’re part of the order now, even if they were merely initiates. They’ve every right to see it. “Very well. But I ask that you enter with the utmost caution. The stonework may be weak, and the flame itself is bound to be weaker…. It has been a difficult matter of keeping the chamber in good shape, for it lay in the deepest part of the hold.” He turned about and gestured with a long claw to the great stone doors, marked with the symbol of the order. “Beyond that gate, down into the darkness, is where it resides.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze looked up at the height of the doors. She had marveled at the architecture several times now, but when she realized that those were doors and not part of the wall, she whistled in awe. Amanda put into words her sister’s thought out question. “So how do you plan to get that open?” She and Constanze both were expecting some grand ritual, a sacrament of many steps, and a display of magic that bedazzled them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh. That’s quite simple, actually.” Instead, Maxwell just shuffled over to the leftmost side of the door, pulled on a lever, and patiently waited. Cranking gears, churning stone, grinding boulders; the hold shook. It lasted only for a few moments though, ending when the doors had parted, sending a large cloud of now unsettled dust into the grand hall. Amanda, Constanze, and Maxwell all started hacking and coughing, while the formermost used wind magic to create a gust to disperse the heavy cloud. The coughing continued, as Amanda blasted herself, and then Constanze with a Phos spell, just to get the dust off of her clothing and hair. When she went to do the same to Maxwell, he raised his arms up in defense. “N-NO ACH… OCH…. DON’T—!” Too late. He was nearly bowled over, but managed to hold his ground. His robes fared worse though, and were now all tangled and jumbled over his form, leaving him to struggle until he patted it all down back to where it should be. He leered at Amanda like the crotchety old man he was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda chuckled. “Whoops.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall was otherwise caked in a fine layer of dust, enough that he deemed it necessary to shake himself like a wet dog to get all of it off of him. “Well. I suppose I should not have been so hesitant about opening the gate…. It is in dire need of cleaning.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze coughed up more dust as she held up her notepad to Asgall. “Are you sure it’s only been closed for ten years?” The amount of settled dust really was staggering. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall scratched at his scabbed chin. “Have I not mentioned the gaps in my memory?” He may or may not have forgotten a zero at the end of ten. “No matter. It is you who wished to see the flame. Let us descend.” </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Five minutes later….</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is this an infinite stairwell?” Amanda had been in one of those before. Haunted mansions: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Never again</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We are nearly there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you said that five minutes ago.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We only just started five minutes ago….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell palmed his face. “Do we always end up attractin’ the impatient types?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As if you were not impatient in your youth.” Asgall retorted, silencing the spat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The group had been descending down a singular grand stairway. Unlit braziers, filled with rotted wood and ash, lined the five foot wide railways, which were more flat slopes of stone, every twenty feet. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling every sixty feet, dangling down with five and four lanterns on the top and bottom loops respectively. The walls were otherwise plain, marked only by cracks, crags, and small crevices older than any of the mortals present. By now, they had descended deep into the core of the mountain, far from the surface and the rest of the hold. Finally, the faintest bit of light that wasn’t provided by Maxwell’s staff came into view. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Balefire was within a minutes jaunt down the decrepit stone stairs, one which Amanda and Constanze took to with quiet excitement expressed only in the sound of their hastened footsteps, and their newly widened eyes. Maxwell and Asgall kept pace, with the former struggling and nearly stumbling until he decided to go his own speed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Amanda and Constanze reached the bottom, they passed under a great arch created by the statues of two witches: A crone, haggish in appearance, with a wide, flat nose, sharp jaw to match her tall face marked by boils and scars, long, matted hair, sporting a horned crown. She stood on the left side of the arch, and held aloft a hammer that seemed far too heavy for her spindly arms and hunched form to carry. She was otherwise plainly dressed, for a witch at least, sporting plain robes that seemed frayed near the edges. Clearly she didn’t care much for aesthetics. Amanda had to assume that was Vaal; first of the great witch-smiths. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hammer was crossed by a lance held by a tall, strong armed, and strong backed woman. She possessed unkempt curly hair that draped down around her shoulder in a ponytail, and wore armor befitting a knight. It was draped in a tabard that stretched down past her knees, and was marked by a symbol of flame. The armor itself also didn’t seem to be typical in its construction, sporting more whimsical elements to the design, such as little wings on the pauldrons, and on the boots and sides of the knee-guards. Given how old the Nine Olde Witches were, Constanze had to assume her armor was of Fae construction, or made by a witch-smith, for armor such as that hadn’t come long into popular use for quite a few centuries; a factoid she picked up from her father. “Mmmm?” Constanze asked Amanda. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…. That’s her.” The statue of Jehanne Du Aquitaine stood proud. It was different than the one Amanda found in the sanctum, but that was to be expected. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their eyes were drawn forward then, toward the small blue light in the center of the otherwise pitch room. Was the Balefire kept on a plateau surrounded by the darkness of a chasmous abyss? Or was the room simply that vast as to appear black as space when the Balefire was weak? Neither could tell, and so they walked with care. The path before them was laid out like a bridge, though keen eyes would be able to tell that, immediately to the right and left were sections of stone, making the bridge more just a raised walkway. Beyond ten feet though, it was anyone’s guess. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Looking straight ahead though, one could clearly see a massive, but otherwise unremarkable brazier, seated firmly in the center of a carved out bowl of stone meant to hold it. Upon a small mountain of ash did the flame stand, surrounded by all of the fuel it had burned through over millennia. The soft blue hue of the fire, no bigger than what one might expect on a campground, gave scale to the vast emptiness around it. Now Amanda and Constanze both understood by what they meant when they said the order was dying: The Flame that was their namesake, the Balefires, they were going out, slowly, but surely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two witches stood in silence, just taking in the sight as Asgall approached from behind and between them. “Behold. The Balefire of Caledonia. It has burned since the late fourth century, and is considered the fourth oldest of the flames.” How the kindling and logs that remained kept it alive was beyond the witches, and even Asgall, but it seemed like little more than a slow-burning fire. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about the other three?” Amanda asked wistfully, still staring on ahead at the lone flame. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Is that it?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She couldn’t believe it for a score of reasons, ranging between pitying guffaws and mystical apprehension. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The oldest flame derived from the original Balefire is beneath Paris. It was previously kept somewhere near Bordeaux, in the Aquitaine region of France, where Jehanne hailed from. The second oldest is believed to be somewhere near Rome, though that hold has been lost from before The Arcturian Schism, and its whereabouts are dubious at best….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell finally caught up with the group and offered what scholarship he knew on the subject. “And the third… phew… is somewhere along the Yellow River in China, if you’d believe it.” Constanze turned about and raised a brow inquisitive at that. Maxwell explained, having caught his breath. “That was with the help of one of the Nine, I believe. It never said who brought Jehanne and Vaal there, but it’s presumed to be Woodward.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Figures.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze thought silently before turning back to the lone flame. She glanced to her right and saw Amanda struck by an all-telling tension. “Mmmm?” Constanze asked, which Amanda presumed to mean: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What now?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda felt the hairs on her arms rise; goosebumps a-plenty all over her body. She shivered. “I-I guess… we get closer?” She looked to Asgall briefly for approval. He hesitated, stroked his chin twice, and then gestured for them to proceed with the same claw. “We get closer….” Amanda reiterated with more confidence, though not without anxiety. Amanda took the first step forward, mirrored by Constanze taking the second. Each movement by the sister witches gave life to the otherwise empty and seemingly vast soundscape. As they approached though, slowly, steadily, the sound of their footfalls was accompanied by the crackling of fire. The satisfying crinkling of the flame soothed their hearts and minds in a most unnatural way. Constanze’s hairs stood up just as Amanda’s did, yet they pressed forward. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Five seconds passed before they were but ten feet from the edge of the ashen brazier. Amanda and Constanze both came to an instinctive halt. Would it be unwise to get any closer? What if they were burned? What if they upset the ash and caused the pile to collapse, extinguishing the flame? Their pensive gazes sent the other’s way conveyed these questions and more. Constanze sucked her lips in. Amanda bit the side of her cheek. Both saw their focus turn inward for a brief moment, each remembering why they were down here, and why they even cared for this ancient pyre; a mound of dust.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda felt a rising heat. The room itself was cool, for the Balefire itself was too small to provide any warmth this far from its center. That could mean only one thing. As her body temperature increased, her thoughts raced through all she had experienced in these past few days. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Amanda O’Neill.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She started a sort of internal monologue, reflecting on herself as a whole. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Maybe the baddest bitch that academy churned out in years. You were something, I guess. Your family sure as hell thought you were something, though they quickly found out they didn’t like whatever that something was, and you sure as shit never became somethin’ they’d approve of.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her air was visible, not as mist, but a very gentle steam. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You kicked ass, took names, and got hell for it in return. But you wanted that, didn’t you?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She faintly smiled at her own recollections. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You always were born to be a hell-raiser, but for all the trouble you caused, you still found love.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The smile only grew wider. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Those posh dorks. I can’t believe how much we hated them before.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hannah and Barbara changed though, for the better. They weren’t perfect, none of the New Nine were, but they were the people Amanda loved. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I wish I changed as much as they…. No, no. Don’t shit on what Conz said like that. You did change. We changed and… we’re better than we were, but….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She sighed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then her thoughts went to the present. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“This was supposed to be one of the best times of our lives.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Graduation: Moving into proper witchhood. Becoming their own advocates; architects of their own fates. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Then it was those bug eyed witches. Those fucking Bathorys. The whole goddamn world might as well be bearing down on us!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Were it so easy. Amanda turned to her left, looking to her sister who was also lost in thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“And now what? Is this all just coincidence, or is Conz right about all of this?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze felt a stiffness, a freezing sort of stillness in her heart. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Was supposed to be a smith. Simple. Quiet.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ludinghal, in its unburned state, visions of the past came back to her from behind closed eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s what they wanted. Maybe I want that to. Wanted. Not possible anymore. Things can’t be changed. Not like that.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her backpack felt heavier by the moment. The weight of her family’s legacy bearing down on her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“They wanted things to be simple…. Why? So I wouldn’t have to worry about this? The Balefire? Witching?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>So much made sense to her now, but so much made no sense just as well. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Did they run from it, or did their fire just die out? And if they ran, why did Grandpa suddenly decide to go back? Why was he hunting them…. That’s what he was after, right?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>And now the task fell to her, just as the legacy of smithing fell to her. Now though, she knew that she would be fulfilling neither of those inherited dreams. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Can’t make mom and dad happy. I’m going to be a witch-smith. No changing that.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She shook her head slowly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And I can’t fool myself. I’m killing them for revenge. ”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Had Ludinghal not occurred, would the Bathorys even be after Luna Nova? Possibly, but that was a probability that Constanze lacked the context for; the bargain made between parties was never mentioned to her, of course. What mattered was the fact that Constanze wouldn’t be looking to face them if it weren’t for those events. She would likely have never found out about the order or about her family’s involvement in the war against the Bathorys. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s the right thing to do. They’ve done enough to earn death four times over.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her eyes opened and lingered on the Balefire’s flame. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“But vengeance isn’t what made Grandpa go out to fight them….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The cold about her intensified. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Idiots.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The names and faces of her family screamed by in her mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“If they knew. If any besides Grandpa knew….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She didn’t want to imagine what she would say to them. She’d conjure up curses so vile and wretched as to be too profane to be recorded. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It doesn’t matter. Not anymore. What’s done is done.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She adjusted her backpack and grunted.Then she felt a gaze upon her: Amanda was looking at her. The icy cold started to melt away. She felt warmer, just from the shared stare as their eyes met. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Inversely, Amanda felt the heat, which had become uncomfortably intense, cool down. She went from being hot enough to start sweating to being comfortably toasty. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Even if this was all just too convenient,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda’s smile remained, now visible to her sister.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was infectious, in fact; Constanze started to smile in turn.</span>
  <em>
    <span>“Even if this was all unavoidable,” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m just glad it helped me realize who my real family was….”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I was never alone. My family’s bigger than I realized….”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“But above all,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“In the end,,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unknowingly, they thought as one: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s given me something to fight for.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their smiles widened, then they slowly transformed into determined smirks. Amanda beckoned toward the Balefire with her head. “Come on. Let’s get a bit closer.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze nodded. “Mmmm….” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their steps roughly coincided. They made two feets worth of progres before both of them noticed the heat growing in intensity. They both knew that no normal fire should be that hot from this far away at such a size, but they continued forward. That was until they got about five feet closer, just a step or two away from standing in the brazier itself. Asgall was about to caution them about touching the brazier when Amanda hunched over in sudden pain. She was holding her stomach like she’d been sucker-punched, and her brow was starting to sweat. She breathed heavily, and didn’t even think to speak. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A-Amanda?!” Constanze asked, now breathing heavily herself as the heat started to overtake her form. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall made to start hurrying toward them, but was stopped by Maxwell’s cane being held before him. He gave Asgall a signature look: Hard eyes, knit brow, and determined frown. “They’ll be alright.” He muttered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall growled out a query, seeming urgent. “Do you even know what is happening?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you?” Asgall was silent. “Have faith in the Nine. They wouldn’t lead ‘em to ruin.” Asgall sighed then and relaxed his body. Both of them looked toward Amanda and Constanze with silent, but burning anticipation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda continued to struggle. Smoke filled her lungs. Embers filled her veins. Her hair felt singed, though it did not burn away. Constanze could see the air about her radiating with heat, warping like a desert mirage far on the horizon. She instinctively reached out toward her sister, trying to help her stand as she seemed near faltering. What she didn’t expect was to be feeling something similar, yet different. By touching Amanda, something awakened in her as well. Her bones became as rigid as irons. Her gut burned with the familiar heat of a blowtorch, and her head felt a dissonant cool fall over her; the kind of cold one felt in a bucket of ice water. Everything seemed clearer in that storm of heat and hoarfrost that raged in her being, where the two forces met in her chest. It hurt for a time, but something about the experience made her certain that it would pass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda felt it too. The pain and the notion of passing. Unlike Constanze though, there was no dichotomy of cold and heat in her body, just pure, unfettered flame. She coughed up a few black puffs of what she thought was exhaust, but was relieved to find herself still capable of breathing. It wasn’t poison, but it wasn’t natural either. Just what was the Balefire doing to them? “C-Conz….” She squeaked out between panting breaths and coughing fits. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm…?” Constanze had her eyes focused on the ground, hunched over as her sister was, but was listening nonetheless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We… we gotta…. Get closer. Get…. Get closer.” Why did Amanda feel that way? What was making her say that? No, that wasn’t it; nothing was </span>
  <em>
    <span>making</span>
  </em>
  <span> her say it, but she felt inclined to. She could say no at any time. She could walk away at any moment. Yet despite every trembling pain in her chest, every twitch of her recently severed fingers, every cough of black smoke, she persisted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Constanze was at her wits end, but she too could have just walked away. She wouldn’t ever leave Amanda like that, but even if Amanda wasn’t here, she would stay. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know….” Amanda coughed again before she took the plunge into the brazier, kicking up ash in a small cloud. “But we gotta….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A rattling sound then rang out from just behind where Amanda had stepped. “Amanda.” Upon turning around, Amanda saw Constanze was wide eyed and staring at a blue length of chain, made of a searing hot plasma. It crackled and sizzled with heat. Amanda looked down to see that it jutted out from where her own heart was and terminated in Constanze’s chest. Amanda stepped back, and the chain grew. She shuffled forward, and it receded back into her. “Are you…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…. I’m fine.” The chain didn’t hurt, but the pain from all of the heat remained. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm….” Constanze psyched herself up before jumping into the brazier with a grunt of effort. She stumbled, but Amanda caught her. Then Constanze started coughing too, but what came out from her mouth wasn’t smoke, but blue embers. It burned her tongue in a way that did not wound it; a sort of simulated fire, bringing the heat but not the changes said heat should make. Constanze wanted to panic, but everything was so very clear. The cool in her mind made it all numb, in a strange sense. That left the sisters with only one option then: Up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda helped Constanze be the first one up. She was much shorter after all, and climbing up a pile of ash was much harder than it sounded, to say nothing of the magical anomaly they were experiencing. Constanze was quick to reach the top, having stood off of Amandas’ shoulders  in order to gain purchase nearer to the peak of the mound. She clawed her way up the rest of it. All of her typical logic told her to avoid the fire. To run. To get away. But all of her senses, enlightened by whatever cold came over her, told her to embrace the flame, and so she did. Within ten seconds time, she stood at the top, smack dab in the fire which hardly seemed diminished by her presence. If anything, it grew. The chain connected her to Amanda still, and was draped down over the pile of ash. Constanze had no reason to believe it was solid, given how it simply grew and shrank to form some sort of infinite link between the two of them, but it was worth a shot. Sure enough, after some hesitation, she put her palms on the chain and dug her heels in. Her flesh felt like it had gone away. She should be bone and ash now, but her body endured, unphased, unharmed. The chain held.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda took the taught chain, shook it once, and smiled through the pain, satisfied with its sturdiness. Then she began her climb. Onwards and upwards she went, stumbling once, then once again, before carrying herself on high to join her sister. They took each others’ hands at the peak as Amanda came over the crest, and so the flame grew larger still. Then they stood tall, looking around with confusion. Their movements were unabated now. The heat was there, but the pain was god. Why? It felt so hot that it wasn’t hot anymore. If there is an absolute zero, was this an absolute heat? An infinity that no longer affected reality? Space? Time? Whatever it was, it was serene. Amanda and Constanze examined themselves, and then each other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you feeling anything?” Amanda asked, sounding as baffled as she looked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mm-mm.” Constanze turned her right arm over, watching the flames dance along the hairs of her body. “You?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No…. Should we?” Constanze could only shrug her head at that, and so Amanda looked to Maxwell and Asgall, who appeared astonished and mortified respectively. “Is it normal to just… feel fine!?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall held his claws against his temples. “Fine!? You are standing in a flame nearly as old as the Nine, and you feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>!?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a sign!” Maxwell interjected. “No one but someone chosen by the Nine should be able to withstand that!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is now the time for romantic assumptions!?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you have any better explanations?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How does one apply logic to the illogical!? Who casts themself into a flame!?” Asgall may have been a man who has seen many strange and unexplainable things, but something so bizarre as this left him flummoxed. The Balefire’s were always said to merely be that: Blue fires. They were sacred, of course, but their origin had always been purported as mundane, relative to the rest of the arcane aspects of the order. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda brought her hands by her mouth to amplify her voice. “Could you guys speak up!? We can’t hear you!” She didn’t realize until then just how loud the crackling of the fire had gotten. Constanze and Amanda could hear each other fine, but they were right next to each other. “Ugh! Whatever!” Amanda let her arms drop to her sides then glanced to her left, finding that Constanze was still enamored with the fire that had overtaken her clothes and body. Where their flesh seemed unharmed, it felt even stranger than their belongings did not burn. “What now?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze shrugged, but did not answer. She had started to feel something, and so did Amanda. It was something from outside of the fire; a force, pushing inward. The air got heavier and heavier. Maxwell and Asgall sensed it to, and even though the latter didn’t need to breathe, he felt strained by it nonetheless, as if the very atmosphere of the room was becoming different. Amanda and Constanze turned about, mindful not to fall from their precarious perch, down into the ashen slopes below. The air got heavier and heavier by the moment, and it was being concentrated on the fire, bidding it to grow and grow. The chain between Amanda and Constanze started to rattle violently, and despite both of their attempts to hold it still, the chain persisted with its violent seizures. So dense was the air then that talking was out of the question for the two witches in the flame, but Maxwell and Asgall both called out to them:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you start to feel unsafe, just come back! We… we can figure this out some other time!” Hopeful as he was, Maxwell wasn’t about to risk two new initiates, budding friends at that, to a possible prophecy, one that wasn’t even set in stone or script, merely one he imagined. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall was much less interested in waiting for either witch to decide whether it was or was not safe. He began to stride forward, shouting at them. “Get out of there! Whatever is happening is too risky to let cont—” A wall of blue flame interrupted him. He did not fall against it, but he had reacted slowly enough to come within inches of its inferno surface. He raised his forearms in a cross before his face for protection. The outer portion of his arms were seared down to the bone, bringing him to hiss loudly, mostly in frustration. “Hraaah!” While flames counteracted his natural regeneration, his magicks would see those wounds healed with ease. The problem lay in the fact that the wall still remained, and not only did it cover the bridge-like pathway toward the brazier, but expanded up to the ceiling, and outward to light up the vast, circular shaped chamber. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now awash in light, it was clear to see below the raised pathways was a lowered section of floor. Down in the lower rotunda, statues of Fae, humans, and monsters, all bearing unlit torches, held them toward the central pyre. All present were awed by the sight of the stonework; the details upon them were impeccable, each looking almost lifelike. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall tried to force his way through the barrier, but found his palms burned badly; it was as thick as stone, and if he were to go through it, his survival wouldn’t be guaranteed. He cursed in Sanskrit, then in an ancient Chinese dialect, and finally in Gaelic before speaking in English. “For what purpose does this serve!? Have we been tricked!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“O-Oi! Oi! What the hell!?” Amanda wasn’t liking how this was going.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constannze didn’t like it much either. “Bad feeling about this….” She muttered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell rushed forth to his friend’s aid as he swore and spat, yelling. He came to a stumbling halt when whispered voices on the wind came to his and Asgalls’ ears: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two voices spoke as one, overlayed, intertwined, but distinguishable: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It is not your choice to make!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Both sounded agitated, though one seemed more stern and focused, while the other sounded more grumpy than anything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall froze up and back pedaled, nearly toppling Maxwell over as they bumped into each other. “Vaal!? Jehanne!?” Interwoven as they were, Asgall would never forget the distinct sounds of their speech. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You heard it too!?” Maxwell grabbed his friend from behind by the shoulders, careful not to impale himself on any of the bony-spikes. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Heard what!?” Amanda asked, having just barely understood Maxwell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Amanda!” Constanze drew her sister’s attention away. She was staring at Amanda’s chest, just above where the chain was protruding from. A mass of sorts had started to glow. It was so bright that it was visible through her button-up shirt and skin: A bright blue orb, burning brightly, just as the Balefire around them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda looked down, and nearly fell back in shock. “EHH!? WHA—!?”  She ran her hands frantically over the spot where the orb shaped mass appeared, unsure if it was somehow a danger to her body. Despite her shock, that serene feeling remained: No pain came to them, not anymore, and that at least kept Amanda from diving out of the fire. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze instinctively opened her navy jacket, and sure enough, she found herself saddled with a similar sphere contained in her chest. She looked down in some form of disgust and confusion, but she had to assume that this all had a purpose, right? Everything leading up to this had been too damn convenient for this not to be its culmination. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, the voices came to them next, booming out from all non-corners of the chamber, being sucked inward toward that pressurized center mass where Constanze and Amanda stood. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>First came a deep woman’s voice, strong and stalwart, speaking with a Proto-French accent. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I called, and so you came:”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her words were in her native dialect, a language now long dead, but it came to Amandas’ and Constanzes’ ears in plain English and German respectively; their own native tongues. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Without direction, without command, only a fire, an invitation, and a desire to burn.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda looked all around her as she replied, knowing that this was the voice that spoke to her down in the sanctum: The one who gave her the flame. “Hold on now, I didn’t invite the flame, it came at me!” Amanda yelled out while thumbing to her chain and flame producing chest. She was less aggressive in her retort and more curious in how Jehanne’s claims aligned with the truth; what was the truth in this case? Amanda and Constanze needed to know.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The voice replied, plainly, having expected as much of Amanda. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Flames beget flames. Flames without more to burn precede ash. Ash begets embers when lit, which begets flame that seeks flame. And so the cycle repeats. The fire chose you, but it cannot force you to do anything…. You could have walked away, but embers always beget fire. Flame always seeks flame. It would not have come to you were you not its distant cousin.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda grit her teeth slightly. She squinted and tried to find the source of the voice so that she could look it straight in the eye, but never found it. It was from all around her, within and without. “So you knew I’d do this then? It’s just in my nature eh? People like me never change? Is that it?” Amanda had come here to see if she was trusted. In that moment, she feared she had simply been destined for this, and oh how she hated destiny, regardless of whether it was spun by some magical loom of the universe, or by some “biological necessity,” or some other crackpottery. She hoped Jehanne didn’t mean the latter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fire is anything but ordered.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Began the voice of Jehanne. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It spreads and consumes. It burns bright, and burns shortly, unless tended to, kindled, and nurtured.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda’s leering expression turned to surprise then when the orb of flame within her phased out of her chest, and was held aloft in front of her by some unseen force. The voice seemed to emanate from it as well as from all around them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Fire is what drives you. Fire is what drove me. But you are not merely fire.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The orb distanced itself from Amanda by a few inches before orbiting her horizontally, slowly winding down from head to toe with each completed revolution. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“We have always been flesh and blood before all else. We have been stone and salt too. We have been ephemeral and ethereal as well. All kinds harken to the Balefire, and all who carried its banner possessed a fire within.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda followed the slow moving orb with fascinated yet critical eyes. “So why me then? Why not someone else?” Amanda tried to grab the orb to halt its mesmerizing loops, but her hand phased through it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The flame chose you because you came to it. Your fire is strong, and likely always has been. None but those with burning souls such as yours could host it.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda looked to her left, locking eyes with Constanze, who had been intently listening. “So what about her? Could she have held it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A pause came before the voice answered with a question of its own. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Why do you dwell on the hypothetical, good hunter? Is reality not enough for you as it is?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What kind of question is that!?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Amanda.” Constanze interjected, drawing her sister’s attention. “I don’t think she knows why we came down here.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Does she need to? Is that any of her business?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Worth a sh—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The voice’s volume superseded Constanze’s. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Your journey is your own, within and without. It is not my place to guide you on it, or to know of it.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda scoffed a chuckle. “Wow, an ancient ghost that knows privacy. Go figure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Heed these words, Amanda O’Neill:”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda shook her fist at the orb. “O-Oi! When did I give you my name!?” So much for privacy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Every fighter knows that she is stronger when there is only peace to rule her mind. Evil may be defeated so long as there are those who stand in opposition to it. All evils. Not just the evils around us. To resist the course of wickedness. This is the purpose of the Balefire.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The orb reached her feet at this point, and then passed through between her legs, creating a trail that resembled a figure eight; a sign of infinity. The symbol rose with the orb, the former passing through Amanda into a puff of smoke dispersed by her body and the flames, while the orb returned to floating before her eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Whatever answer you seek, I cannot provide. What I can offer you is a choice, one you have already made in part.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda sighed. For once, she thought things might come to her easily. She would have to take Jehannes’ words to heart though, in order to find her answers. The rest was up to her. “Alright…. What’s the choice about?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You hold within you a spark of the original flame: Spread it far. Spread it wide. Let the world be bright once more.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The orb then moved to float between Amanda and Constanze, both of whom followed its movements with their eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You have already joined the order. Make of it what you will, but do not let the fire die…. Such is the choice I leave you with; a plea from myself to you: Will you do as I have asked, and preserve the flame, or will you walk away once all is said and done with the threat that you now face?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda looked to the orb, and the chain below it. She shook her head in the negative as she spoke. “I’m sticking with Constanze. That’s my answer. Whatever she decides, I’m goin’ with it. So before you go and ask me that again, get her opinion first.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze gently touched her lips with her left fingers. “A-Amanda….” They had been through much, and had made many declarations of trust and sororal love to one another, but to hear Amanda commit to a life where their destinies are intertwined, something she only alluded to before, made Constanze unknowably happy. So unknowable was her happiness that she didn’t know how to properly express it. Surprise was all that took hold on her face, followed by even further surprise when a familiar voice came from an elderly woman’s voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Meanwhile, Maxwell and Asgall looked between each other and the scene before them. The latter quietly questioned his friend. “Do you hear what they are speaking to?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell guffawed. “If you can’t hear it, how am </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>supposed to hear it? Hells, my ears are almost bad enough to require an aid!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You make a fair point….” All they could do was await an explanation and interpret what they saw. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll take it from here, sister!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Vaal’s original accent and language were unfamiliar to either witch, though perhaps she sounded similar to the far eastern Europeans of old. Once again though, her voice came to be heard in English and German respectively. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Though you two still owe me much in terms of gratitude! Without my prized hammer, you wouldn’t have had a prayer of making it out of that mess!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Where Jehanne was stoic, proud, and almost profound sounding, Vaal was down to earth, plain, yet wiley all the same. She sounded tired, despite being dead, and carried a sort of snippiness that was masked by an upbeat tone of voice. It was a strange mishmash of sass, sarcasm, wit, and cheerfulness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze instinctively looked down to her own chest, and sure enough, she saw her own orb of flame rise out and pass through her. It was not as smooth in its glide however, and instead bounced to a certain, unhearable beat. It was dissonant, but there was a method to it; Vaal always heard her forge song, it was in every process, biological and mechanical. “T-Thank you.” Constanze squeaked out, still taken aback by the weight of emotions that Amanda saddled her with on top of the awe inspiring feeling she had. Truly, Constanze and Amanda would remember this moment for as long as they lived. “I’ll… pay you back somehow.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda rubbed the back of her head. “Y-Yeah! Thanks…. Really uh, saved us there.” What else was she to say or do? How do you show gratitude to a spirit? Let alone one of the Nine?  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hmmph! That’s better.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The orb bounced over Constanze’s head, prompting her to spin about in trying to follow it, only to realize it was doing vertical loops around her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Pay back won’t be necessary though. Not in the… hmm… normal sense, we’ll say?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neither Constanze nor Amanda liked the sound of that. “Oi, oi. We’ve been run around eno—”The orb suddenly shot out and came mere inches from Amanda’s nose, causing her to nearly fall over in surprise. “WAH—!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Quit hogging the airspace, hunter! It’s the smith’s time to speak!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now bending nearly over backward just to get space between her and the orb, Amanda held her hands up flatly, palms outward. “Ok! Ok! Sheesh!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mm!” Constanze grunted in annoyance, drawing both the orb and Amanda’s attention. “Amanda’s right. I’m tired of the vagueness. Enough games. What do you want?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The orb floated slowly back to its vertical orbit, allowing Amanda to reestablish her foothold on the pile. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Ahh, yes. I knew I chose well.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s that supposed to mean?” Constanze demanded flatly before Amanda followed up with a question of her own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, wait a second. You chose Conz for this? Was I chosen by you, Jehanne?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The voice of Jehanne answered. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I allowed the flame to decide for me. It was a part of me though…. So yes, in a sense, I have chosen you.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda was struck with silence, and left wide eyed as a smile slowly started to form on her face. Not that Vaal was going to let Amanda speak anyway.. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Could we hurry this up!? I much preferred the blissful quiet of oblivion.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Then Vaal cleared her throat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Not that I’m unhappy to hear from you, sister.... Quite the opposite.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Did smiles make noises? Vaal’s did. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jehanne seemed to sigh, but with how it sounded, she was certainly smiling too. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s good to hear you again too….”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A long silence followed as Vaal’s orb stopped its looping and flew beside the orb that came from Amanda. They seemed to stare at each other, though whether these were the spirits of Vaal and Jehanne, or merely apparatus upon which they projected their will was unknown. That was until Constanze cleared her throat to catch their attention. The orb that came from her chest, the one seemingly controlled by Vaal, bounced back to orbiting Constanze. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“A-Ah! Yes. I tire of this! How kind of you to remind me of my own impatience! Perhaps I misjudged the impertinence of today’s youth.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m twenty two.” Constanze crossed her arms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The orb halted, scanned Constanze once, then twice. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh my. I thought you were but sixteen years of age.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s it.” Where was Constanze’s blaster?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The orb frantically dodged and dipped, looking for an “exit” of sorts. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh dear! Oh dear! I’ve done it now!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda snapped to attention, along with Jehanne. The former gently held Constanze by the shoulders. “H-Hey! Let’s… let’s chill, ok? Maybe it’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span> idea to shoot one of the ghosts of the Nine Olde Witches?” Constanze grunted something in annoyance as she pulled her hand away from her wand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><em><span>“By the gods, Vaal! Have you truly not…. No, nevermind. I know where that argument leads us.”</span></em><span> Another sigh from Jehanne, one filled with far less smiles, broke up her words.</span> <span>“</span><em><span>Please, let us be about this.”</span></em><span> Now Jehanne sounded tired.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Eheheh…. Ahh…. Yes. Well. That would be for the best, wouldn’t it?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ime used to joke that Vaal was as socially literate as a seal. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I suppose it’s better that you’re older. In hindsight, it would have been quite… traumatizing to experience the sufferers pit at such a young age.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> And she wasn’t wrong.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You sent her to the sufferers pit!?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jehanne sounded like she had been dealing with this sort of nonsense from Vaal for the better part of several centuries, and such an assumption wouldn’t be wrong. Vaal was </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrible</span>
  </em>
  <span> with people, in all the worst ways without being malicious. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It was important, mind you! She needed to see what awaited the abandoned and destitute!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clearly, Vaal didn’t have a problem with snooping about Constanze’s memories, for how else would she have known that Constanze was feeling isolated? Jehanne did not approve. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You…. You…. Ohhh, nevermind.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Now Jehanne was even sounding more human. The stonewalled veneer of the implacable and wise warrior had been broken by the hijinks and blundering business of her sister. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Just…. Just get on with it.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> It was no wonder now why Vaal always sent away unwanted persons trying to speak to her by using cryptic faux-wisdom; she was just as likely to insult them indirectly as she was to help them!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze and Amanda looked to one another with absolute confusion and disappointment. “Are you guys </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> two of the Nine Olde Witches?” Amanda asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No response followed immediately, as both were simply too embarrassed at this point to answer. That was until Vaal muttered something. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“We could always be more cryptic and unhelpful if that’s what you want….”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well you’re not being very helpful by arguing!” Amanda threw her arms up in defeat, letting them flop back down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Seriously.” Constanze added. “Not very professional.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Quiet you!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Vaal retorted, before Jehanne grunted in frustration, earning a squeak of fright out of Vaal. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I-I mean, I apologize! W-We! We apologize even! Shall we get back to what we were talking about?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please!” Amanda and Constanze said in unison.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just…. What are they talking about?” Asgall’s right eye twitched. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’vent the foggiest idea.” Maxwell shook his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Very good!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Then there was silence. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What were we</span>
  </em>
  <span>—” If a death glare, the kind only siblings knew, could make a sound, then Jehanne was thunderous from beyond the grave. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“A-AH! Right! The price! Repayment…. I have but two things to ask of you, Constanze!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze didn’t reply immediately. She merely raised a brow as a sign that she was listening. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Firstly! I ask that you see our order repaired! Literally and figuratively! If the order is ever to return in earnest, then these rusty chains that hold us together must be made new again! The holds are in ruin… but not for long! Not with a witch-smith of the order to see them revived!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze clicked her tongue as she considered the request. It lined up perfectly with her own desire to stay with the order, but seeing it rebuilt was a whole other undertaking. She wanted to do good work, but was she a leader of humans, Fae, and monsters? She couldn’t say whether or not she was fit for such a role, but she would need to visit the old ruins of the other Balefires for another reason: Her family’s history lay among those buried stones. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“If I’m already digging them up to find my family legacy, I may as well fix the place up while I’m at it.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Architecture wasn’t exactly her forte, but it was a school of engineering she certainly had passion and intrigue for. And, much like Sucy, Constanze had a ravenous curiosity, though she was more inclined toward the mathematical, scientific (in a magical and mundane sense), and practical, rather than toward the esoteric, biological, and chemically dubious.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“So, what do you say to that, young smith?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Vaal asked, interrupting Constanze’s train of thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Second part.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Pardon?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s your second request.” </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Was that a question, or a statement?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vaal scoffed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Do you really think you’ve any right to talk to me like</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
  <span> A similar grunt of annoyance from Jehanne silenced Vaal. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“.... Very well. My second request was this: Be sure, that as long as you live, that you do not allow those chains of yours to be severed.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze raised a brow, looked down to the selectively ethereal chain between her and Amanda, and managed to muster a faint smile. She reached down to run her hand along the fiery links. Her eyes followed her hand as it reached closer toward Amanda until she stopped, gripped the chain tightly, shook it once to be sure of its firmness, and then pulled back. “I can do that.” Constanzes’ eyes once more met Amanda’s own. The soft smile spread from sister to sister. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What about the first request? Would you see this burning foundation rebuilt? Brick by flaming brick?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She envisioned a future far from the now. Perhaps such exercises in detached hypotheticals were pointless, but Constanze couldn’t help but dream. Maybe she would be a leader of witches. What would that entail? Why would she seek it out? She had no desire to run a coven, or any organization for that matter, but she had a desire to do good for the world through creation and study. And this merely wasn’t some coven: It was an order her family took part in, and regardless of whether or not one or more of the Nine asked her, Constanze couldn’t ever see herself walking away from the Balefire. That left only one obstacle that had her second guessing: Her personality. She knew she wasn’t exactly anti-social, but knew herself well enough to know that leading and organizing such a group demands a sort of confidence and composure that she wasn’t sure she had. She wasn’t the completely mute woman she was two years ago, but she knew that her selectism mutism would never fully leave her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s a part of me. Don’t need to fix what isn’t broken.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>So long as she could cope with the world, then she would leave herself as is. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Still…. It’s a lot to take on.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze opened her eyes then and found Amanda to still be smiling at her softly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s your call, sis..” For better or worse, Amanda would be with her; sisters unto death. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Couldn’t take it on alone.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze raised a thumb up to Amanda.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Don’t need to. I’m not alone. Never again.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Then she turned toward the orb that Vaal manipulated. “Mmm. I’ll do it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And that means I’m in too! We’ll bring this order back from the brink! You can count on that!” Amanda’s and Constanze’s declaration was the O’Neill and Von Braunschbank seal of approval. Jehanne and Vaal couldn’t be more pleased. Their celebratory statements partially overlapped:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“See! I told you I chose well!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Never did I think I would see the day….” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><span>As Vaal laughed and cheered, Jehanne breathed easy. Meanwhile, Amanda and Constanze bumped fists, each chuckling as well.</span> <span>Then Vaal spoke unabated. </span><em><span>“Believe it, sister! Our legacies live on yet!”</span></em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Just as she promised they would….”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze brought her gaze from Amanda to the orb Jehanne controlled then, as it was now situated by the chain, opposite of Vaal’s own orb. “Just as she promised?” Constanze whispered to herself, only to be interrupted by Amanda’s query. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, so we’re all in agreement! Now… maybe you could explain… why we needed all of the theatrics for this?” Well, that was certainly a way to deflate everyone of their energy. “Couldn’t you have just… like… talked to us? At any time?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Luckily, Vaal and Jehanne had a response, which they spoke in unintended unison: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Our spirits are weak elsewhere.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Then they chuckled; just like old times. Vaal continued. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Outside of a select few locales, the Nine are naught but corpses…. Well, save for one of us.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jehanne’s orb smacked into Vaal’s then. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Ow! You wretch!”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze got serious. “Woodward.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jehanne replied flatly, but with haste. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“We speak of another. Let us not sully this moment of triumph with discussion of her, or of the others. Neither the one Vaal referenced nor Woodward is yours to seek.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda scratched at her chin thoughtfully. “So… does that mean Woodward </span>
  <em>
    <span>isn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> dead, or—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Just forget I said anything!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Vaal shrilly demanded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Still don’t have all of the pieces.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze sighed. “Fine, but what do you want us to do now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jehanne’s orb settled back down by the chain connecting Amanda and Constanze together; Vaal followed suit. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“If you would both humor us, we would like to strengthen your bond with the Balefire.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jehanne continued. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“We hope that it will embolden your spirits, and the flame itself.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Consider it a… formal… yes, a formal passing of the torch!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda nodded appreciably. “Any boon’s a good boon I say.” Then she looked to Constanze. “We’re already knee deep in weird shit as it is; might as well cap it off properly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm….” Constanze wasn’t terribly for or against it, and was instead still stuck thinking of the gaps in the story they’d assembled so far. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“All of them but one is dead…. Why? What was promised? A continued legacy? Who is she?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze could hazard some guesses, some outlandish, some grounded, but the true answers could not be ascertained at the moment. The gaps in this tale were too great to be filled by educated guesswork. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Seriously need to get Lotte on this.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>There was time yet to put the puzzle together. What mattered now was defeating the Bathorys, and if this “passing of the torch” could aid them, mentally, physically, magically, or otherwise, then they were obligated to undergo it. “Might as well….” She muttered, mirroring her sister’s sentiment. “Let’s do it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Excellent!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Vaal chirped with glee.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Then let us tarry no more.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jehanne remarked as her orb rose slowly from the chain, hanging in the air about a foot above Amanda’s head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Aye! By your lead, sister!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Vaal’s orb followed suit. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Mind your footing, you two! Things may get bumpy!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bumpy?” Amanda and Constanze questioned together. They looked to each other, and then to Asgall and Maxwell. “Uhh…. Hold on to something! I guess!?” Amanda yelled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-Why!?” Maxwell replied, still lacking any and all context. He was provided some in the following moments, when the already heavy air became almost too thin to breathe. Maxwell coughed and fell to one knee, steadying himself against his cane. Almost all of the oxygen in the room was being sucked toward the fire! The pressure in the center was immense, and the fire was growing ever larger! Asgall didn’t know whether to be concerned or joyous, for never in his time amidst the order has he seen the flame grow; it has only ever receded and dwindled. Still, he had a mortal friend to tend to, so his focus was partially drawn toward helping Maxwell up, and keeping an eye on his health. Neither of them could imagine what was coming next. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda and Constanze struggled to stand, relying on each other for support as both stared up at the twin orbs. The orbs began to hum louder and louder, more so than the crackling fire even. Then they began to spin in an increasingly large circle, leaving streaks of magical particles that stood out against the blue fire. Vaal’s and Jehanne’s voices boomed out over the chamber, audible to all present. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh! Great pyre of providence! Mighty maelstrom of flame! Ever-burning brazier of bravery! Balefire! Bane of the unbidden, the opportunist, and the wicked! Heed the words of those who first fed you!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The chamber began to shake. The statues filling the lower rotunda trembled ever so lightly. Their torches, held aloft, began to glow a faint blue from top to bottom. The orbs ceased their circular pattern then, after having made twenty or so circles within one larger circle. Their efforts turned to inscribing Lunar Runes upon the very air itself, leaving behind controlled trails of the magical embers. One orb started at the outermost circle, while the other worked from the second closest to the center, leaving the smallest circle blank for the moment. It was impossible to tell which of the Nine was doing what, for their orbs were otherwise indistinguishable, and their voices came from all directions. Amidst the creation of the runes, they continued their ceremonial speech. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Long have you stood alone, flame most fortuitous, for we, sisters six and four of Nine, have taken our final rest…. But no more!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda and Constanze both forced themselves to stand upright, despite the heavy air, and looked up in slightly pained awe at the elaborate sigil being drawn above them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“No longer shall your vigil be taken in solitude! Two witches, sisters such as we, have felt the fire in their veins! They have tasted the smoke in their lungs! They sprint now toward dangers untold, hearts aflame, just as we did in ages past!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The runes came together, forming a dizzyingly elaborate series of incantations in the air. The trembling torches below began to burst into flames. The fires that lit them took on all colors of the known and unknown rainbow. One by one, the room was being filled with those queer lights. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Look upon them now, Balefire, and bring succor to them as you brought succor to all else! When the nights go grow cold, warm their frigid flesh. When the darkness closes in, light the path forward. And when foes of humanity and Fae-kind make clear their foul intent, aid these reclaimers, and all who flock to them, in burning away their foes!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell nearly passed out then. His body was so deprived of oxygen that this all felt like a dream. He had to stay awake though. He couldn’t miss this. It was beautiful, so very beautiful. The lights, the impassioned words, the spectacle of the spell; he held out hope through two world wars and decades of decay, and his faith was rewarded. He smiled with childlike wonder at it all, settling his eyes on Amanda and Constanze. The latter sisters suddenly found themselves rising off of the ash pile. Both of them yelped in surprise, waving their arms and legs for a moment until they realized that they were safe in the hands of the Nine’s magicks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vaal and Jehanne continued; the circles were complete. All that remained was the center, where Amanda and Constanze were brought to float. The orbs met them there and began to inscribe a perfect recreation of the order’s emblem. Their words rang out in kind: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Let they be your vessels and your charges! Serve them as they serve you, as we served you and you served us. Embers to flame! Flame to embers! A cycle unbroken!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The orbs positioned themselves above Constanze and Amanda and began to vibrate violently. Then they split open into perfect halves. One half slowly drifted down before each of the witches’ faces, then down their chest, passing through the chain, and aligning themselves with said chain so that each half of the orbs capped off where the chains met; flatly rested right over the heart. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Chains forged thrice over! Wayward links bound together! Unto death will they hold, and beyond shall they remain! Balefire! May your own chains never rust! May those who fight in the order’s name never know the pains of solitude! Let the pains of these reclaimers, and all who follow them, be your pains! Chains! Awaken!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Two chains then shot out from the piles of ash into the air and pierced the sigil. They paused in the air like serpents and then darted for Amanda and Constanze. One went to each, piercing them in the back, aligned with their spines.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both Amanda and Constanze shut their eyes tight, and prepared themselves for an ungodly pain, but it never came. The chains, much like their own burning link, was ethereal in structure. Sighs of relief escaped them, followed by smiles as pride filled their hearts. The ceremony was winding down then. Each of the torches in the lower rotunda had been lit, the sigil was complete, and Amanda and Constanze had been linked to the Balefire; to all Balefires, dead and alive. Vaal and Jehanne asked of them one final question each: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Good hunter,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jehanne began, her voice unaccompanied by Vaal’s. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Will you take up the flame, and bear it far and wide across the world? Farther than it has ever gone before? Unto the hearts and minds of all you encounter?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She was just as booming and mysterious sounding as she sounded down in the Sanctum. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda, still floating a little awkwardly, held her right thumb up. “Hell yeah I will!” It was the most “Amanda” way to answer the question. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Proud smith,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Vaal sounded all too happy, and struggled to keep the serious and mystical tone. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Will you put your craft to work in the order’s name? Will you lay the foundation for a new era in the history of the Balefire?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze couldn’t help but mimic Amanda’s thumbs up. “Mmm!” How easy it was to forget the frustrations that came with not knowing the full story behind the Nine when faced with enough visuals to bedazzle even the most austere of persons. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her answer prompted gleeful cackling from Vaal, and even a permitted chuckle by Jehanne. They were both quick to turn serious once more though, and sought to end this ritual properly. Once more, they spoke in unison: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“May this new blood rekindle our dying flame and reinforce our aging chains! Remember well our creed: All that is demanded of those who seek to defeat evil, is that they stand up, and fight!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The half-orbs, pressed over the hearts of Amanda and Constanze, then burned themselves through their flesh, becoming one with their being. Both of them hissed in mild pain, though they were quietly glad that it only hurt as much as it did. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“This fire, once ours, is now relinquished!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The vacuum that had sucked in nearly all of the oxygen in the room suddenly increased its power ten-fold! The flames, from all of the torches, the wall of magical fire, and the Balefire itself, coalesced into one dense ball, no larger than a fist, directly between Amanda and Constanze. The room became unnaturally dark once more, darker than it ever was. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Keep to your oaths: Make this fire yours!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Then it was bright. Far too bright. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The super-dense ball of fire exploded. The room was awash in color and magic. The sigil had been dispersed into a furious torrent of arcane energies. Asgall shielded Maxwell as he fell unconscious from the shockwave, and found himself most surprised by his own survival. The fire did not burn him. He opened his eyes and looked around to see a sort of liquid-gas substance in the air. It was all burning, but it wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>burning</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything. Was it even fire? He couldn’t tell. All was still for a few moments while Asgall surveyed the room, but before he could notice anything different, the liquid-gas fires started dancing. It was slow at first, whimsical, like butterflies. It grew faster and faster with each passing moment, until the pressure simply wouldnt permit the firestorm to continue! The energies flew out of the chamber, up the tall staircase leading back up to the grand hall where the flames then escaped the hold entirely, and made a glorious display of lights and wonder in the skies; a veritable aurora. They would only be privy to this sight in due time, for now, the Balefire’s chamber was left even darker than when the flames had coalesced. No light was present whatsoever, and all was quiet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Luckily for Asgall, he could see perfectly in the dark, better than he could in the light even. He checked on Maxwell again, examining his body, and finding it unwounded. Asgall could naturally hear the beating of Maxwell’s heart, and the faint motions of his lungs gathering air. He was alive. Asgall sighed with relief. He then set his friend down gently and took careful steps closer to the ashen brazier. As he came near the crest where the dip in the bowl became more visible, he saw Amanda and Constanze lying among the dust and soot, not unconscious, but certainly dazed. Again, he sighed with relief, but also with annoyance. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“And here I thought they preferred more simple and direct methods….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Asgall wondered if he had remembered Jehanne and Vaal incorrectly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“No…. No, I just think being dead does that to some people.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He surmised. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Nothing for it now. The third trial yet remains.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He’d get Amanda, Constanze, and Maxwell back up to the hold in no time. Hopefully within the hour, they’d be able to discuss what happened before beginning the most challenging trial that they would face:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A moonlit duel with an ascended vampire. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><hr/><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Moonlit Melee</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey there! Sorry I couldn't get this earlier, but this chapter is very action packed, so I wanted to make sure it was satisfying! If it isn't, do tell of course, but I think I did pretty well! I'm always looking to improve though, so all criticism is helpful! </p><p>I hope you enjoy this! And if you do, please share it around, leave a kudos, comment, etc! That kinda stuff helps me feel my work is appreciated! </p><p>Tumblr: https://karmotrinedreams91.tumblr.com/</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Should we call a doctor?” Amanda’s voice sounded blurry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Exactly what sort of healer would live amongst the mountains? Are my powers not sufficient?” So did Asgall’s. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can it cure heart attacks?” A sputtering response from Asgall followed. Maxwell opened his eyes slowly, being the last to rouse themselves from that brief spell of unconsciousness. He saw Asgall fighting himself not to argue with Amanda. He had come to learn that it was pretty pointless to do so when the subject matter wasn’t of the utmost importance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s up.” Constanze remarked with a tinge of relief colouring her otherwise monotone voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm…. Ugh….” Maxwell rubbed at his mostly balt scalp as he lifted himself half off of the floor. “Might I ask… what happened? Did somethin’ hit me head?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He better not have amnesia, because I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> explaining everything that happened.” Amanda did enough of that back when they first met. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Remember… what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahhh shit….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze palmed her face. “You jinxed it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall leaned over Maxwell with a good deal of worry on his face, holding a singular claw to his chin. His toothy maw formed quite the concerned frown. “Perhaps we should seek the aid of your modern healers.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? N-No! I’m fine!” Maxwell forced himself up to his feet, fully, though not gracefully. A terrible crack precipitated his immediate howling and lurching. “Ow! Ow! OH! Damnit all! Ach!” He held his lower back with both hands until he got enough sense about him to numb the pain with healing magicks, righting his muscles. Everyone gave him a good deal of space, looking either confused, worried, or some mix of the two. “Ugh…. If you’re asking if I remember what happened with the Balefire, of course I remember what happened!” He grumpily sounded as he corrected his posture and called forth his staff from the ground nearby with telekinetic magicks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The trio collectively sighed in relief. Asgall was the first to speak. “Would you two mind explaining to us then what exactly happened down there?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze raised a brow while Amanda rolled her eyes. “You can hear us comin’ from a mile away and couldn’t hear what they were saying?” The latter spoke, remarking “they” in reference to Jehanne and Vaal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All I could hear was the sound of the Balefire spreading, and the words you two spoke…. Only when that spell began did I hear the voices of the Nine.” Asgall still couldn’t really believe his own words. He remembered those voices: They were unmistakable. It had to be the spirits of Jehanne and Vaal, despite all of his good senses telling him that such an occurrence is the stuff of legends and fiction. Nevertheless, he could not deny the reality before him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye, we only heard ‘em at the end.” Maxwell groaned once more, popping a bone as he gently windmilled his right arm. “Ooof….” After shaking his head to get his focus back on track, Maxwell continued. “So come on now, let’s hear what they said!” His pained grumpiness was quickly turning back to wondrous fascination. His youth may as well have been returning before his comrades’ very eyes, despite what his creaking limbs might say. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, can we just give you the summary?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please.” Constanze wasn’t looking forward to long winded explanations either, but here they were. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall raised a claw and nodded. “Very well. I cannot hold a desire for haste against you, given the circumstances. I ask only that you not exclude any important details.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Which details aren’t important?” Constanze mumbled, finding his stipulation to possibly imply that they should just recite the whole conversation anyway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda went ahead to explain it before Asgall could even answer that question: “So Jehanne and Vaal started talking to us and they wanted us to basically help rebuild the order. They wanted me to spread the flame and they wanted Constanze to build the holds back up. Is that good enough of an explanation for you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall sighed, but Maxwell made both of their thoughts clear. “Not… really. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>little</span>
  </em>
  <span> bit of detail would be nice…. You know, maybe why they performed that ritual, why you were able to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>walk into the Balefire</span>
  </em>
  <span> without being burned?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze shrugged her shoulders high and held her palms flat and upward, her arms bent at the elbow. Her face was a mixture of frustration and bewilderment. It spoke all the words she intended it to and more; even Maxwell could understand it: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What makes you think we know why any of that happened?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-Well, it’s worth asking at least.” Maxwell readjusted his stance, leaning on his staff. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall interjected. “Did they state anything about the nature of the ritual? Its purpose?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They said it was some ceremony or something.” Amanda crossed her arms, blowing a stray strand of hair down from her face and back up to where it should be. “They were ‘passing the torch’ apparently. Which is </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> helpful info you know. Tells us a lot about why the whole room kinda exploded.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let us be grateful that it was not a true explosion.” Asgall rubbed at his chin with two claws, drawing them inward toward the tip in repeated strokes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Implosion.” Constanze corrected, having settled her expression and arms back down to normal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Does it matter?” Amanda scoffed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe.” Constanze brought out her wand and summoned up an ethereal sort of diagram. “Energy was brought inward to one point; in between us. The chain. They could have infused it with magic.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You mean that weird chain that was comin’ out of us?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A sign of the unbreakable bonds between sisters…. Stronger than any sword or spell.” Maxwell poetically remarked, sounding wistful and light headed. When he settled his eyes on the group, he found each of them staring at him with faces that merely said: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Really?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Maxwell felt a light blush on his face, one that was barely noticeable. “What? I don’t see any of you coming up with a better explanation!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze softened her scrutiny for a moment to make sense of things. She had to admit, the notion held water when compared to Vaal’s sentiment. “Vaal asked me to make sure it didn’t break. That none of my chains broke. Could be right.” Though she wasn’t about to treat it like some unstoppable weapon. She modified the magical diagram with a flick of her wand, showing a chain between two persons; simple representations of Amand and Constanze. “It wasn’t there before though. Not here anymore. Can’t assume that’s what it did.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall nodded in agreement. “Vaal always was the more sentimental of the two…. But you are correct. I do not believe that point of concentration was meant to infuse the chain. I do not sense the energies about you that I felt down in the chamber.” Idly, he picked at his teeth, clacking them on occasion as he continued. “Worse, I do not feel the power of the Balefire whatsoever here. It may have only been a flame made from simple magicks, but its continued burn meant everything to the order.” His eyes drifted to Amanda. “And it was clearly something that Jehanne wanted you to keep alight.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“E-Ehh?! It’s not my fault their own dumb spell put out the Balefire!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That is exactly why I am unperturbed.” Asgall sounded just as calm as his statement implied. “Vaal and Jehanne held the Balefires with fanatical regard, even by order standards. They were well and truly sacred to them, along with several sub-covens that formed within the order. To what end they worshipped them is dubious, and otherwise irrelevant. What matters is this: They would never knowingly extinguish any of the Balefires—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell jumped in, smiling wide. “Unless they have a plan to rekindle it again!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall returned the smile, which for once wasn’t as creepy; Amanda and Constanze were growing… somewhat used to the sight. “Exactly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then let’s light it.” Constanze stated with uncertainty, wondering why this matter seemed so complex despite it being, in Asgalls own unstated words, about a simple, magical fire that served as a symbol more than anything. “Find some trees. Figure out some magic that makes slow burning fire. Simple.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah!” Amanda exclaimed in agreement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A fire and a Balefire are two, very different things, Amanda, Constanze.” Asgall idly waltzed over to a nearby table filled with books that he’d been reading through earlier. Among them was a scroll detailing the history of the order, and describing its various rituals, ceremonies, and so on. “While the exact origin of the original Balefire is unknown, and its location kept a mystery, until now it seems, Vaal and Jehanne both had been asked countless times on how one might recreate it.” He held the scroll up and presented it to Amanda and Constanze, unfurling it from top to bottom. Both witches leaned in to read the section Asgall had been highlighting with a pointing claw. He read the words aloud as they did so in silence:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>“The High Forgemaster and Huntmaster, when asked by followers on the nature of the primordial flame, the Balefire of Balefires, they have only ever responded with this: ‘The Balefire is our fury made manifest. It is the will of the restless. It is a beacon for the dissatisfied. From restlessness it was borne. From dissatisfaction was it given purpose. Ash to embers. Embers to flame. Flame to ash. A cycle unbroken.’”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda wrinkled her nose. “That last bit is somethin’ they said during the ritual. D’ya think it’s meant to be more literal?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is possible.” Asgall nodded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmmm….” Constanze hummed. “Happened before? Put out and lit again?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell stepped forward. “Well the order’s never been dead like this before, and I can’t imagine there’d be a reason to recreate the Balefires outside of a complete collapse of our traditions.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“From an alchemist’s perspective, their words are true: Fire is ever present in all things. It is merely energy that is dormant and cold in the moment that may one day become active once more. Ash to embers, embers to flame, flame to ash, so on.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda threw her hands behind her head, stretching her body on a pivot. “That doesn’t really explain the differences between a fire and a Balefire though. If anythin’ that just makes them seem more alike.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze tapped at her chin and clicked her tongue. “Borne from them. Their fury and restlessness. Emotion has a direct causal link to some forms of magical transference. Remember Croix.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Croix?” Maxwell queried, speaking for Asgall as well, who simply raised a brow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Long story…. Let’s say ‘friend’ of ours.” Constanze held nothing ill against Croix, but most of the New Nine either avoided her, forgot about her, or outright rejected her. Only Akko and Constanze actively tried to speak with her, and even then, Constanze was hesitant at times. “A kind of witch smith. Very modern. Mostly tech mixed with magic. Calls it magitronics. She’s… really good at it.”  Had Croix more malicious intent, she would have likely been one of the world’s most dangerous sorcerers. Given her imprisonment in a tear outside of time though, it was hard to say that she wasn’t already considered that. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Wish I brought my laptop.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> It was the only thing Croix could contact outside of Chariot’s crystal ball, and even if Croix herself couldn’t help with the dilemma, she would be able to get the word out to whatever coven was keeping an eye on her. Surely they would hold some power in the magical world. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“No use regretting.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Emotion does indeed mean a great deal for… some schools of magic. It is very uncommon though,” Asgall set aside the scroll from earlier. “So please, do explain what you mean to imply.” Asgall had an idea, but it was better to make sure there was no miscommunication, especially from a woman of such few words as Constanze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When Jehanne and Vaal made the order, or maybe before, something happened.” Constanze started pacing, looking down at the ground as she thought. “A ritual. A spell. Some random event. Something happened that was fueled by their emotions. Restlessness and fury.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They certainly were not lacking such emotions….” Asgall remembered that Jehanne held more fury, but Vaal was ever more restless. Still, both featured siad traits as prominent parts of their personality. “I cannot speak on the earliest days of the order. I was not among its members for some time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But that doesn’t explain </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> those emotions… well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>make</span>
  </em>
  <span> a Balefire.” Maxwell added. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda had started stretching with her arms down to her toes when she started talking again. “If they wanted me to turn the lights back on, then they really should have left me with an instruction manual.” Then she stood back up, exhaling quickly. “What, do they want me to just get really mad and really anxious?” That seemed far too easy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall sighed. “We are no closer to understanding what transpired when we began this discussion.” Perhaps it was all a mere show, but that felt completely out of character for Jehanne and Vaal. Asgall knew they didn’t do anything without good reason, especially if a good deal of effort or resources was required to enact it, and this seemed like just such a feat. “It may be prudent to reserve our inquiries for another time. The night is long in the winter, but not eternal. The third trial will be held outdoors, and, naturally, I cannot battle you in the daylight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze was about to agree, but Amanda interjected, raising a finger up and wagging it as she spoke. “Wait, wait, wait. There’s somethin’ else I wanna mention. Something you could maybe explain.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Maxwell and Asgall cocked their heads.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?” Constanze turned before her mind went to Vaal’s slip up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Promises. Their legacies live on in us.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> It had nearly escaped her mind given the overload of stimuli that followed. “Vaal mentioned a promise. ‘She’ said their legacies would live on.” Constanze put extra emphasis on the word “She” given the unknown nature of said person. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And who is this ‘she?’” Asgall asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s kinda what we were hoping you’d know.” Amanda said while stowing her hands in her pant pockets. Asgall clacked his teeth twice, looked to Maxwell, who shrugged in turn, which saw Asgall turn back to Amanda and Constanze and shrug as well. Amanda rolled her eyes. “So much for that….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about what we promised them?” Constanze stopped her pacing to face the two elder men. “I want to see the order rebuilt. So does Amanda. Does it mean anything?” By it, she meant the ritual, the piece of the Balefire within them, the chains binding them to it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Where Asgall was without words, Maxwell poised a question. “Is it our place to really say, Asgall? We’re caretakers. We were meant to remain and keep things together while we awaited… well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I suppose. Something like this at least. A revival’s upon us, and after what we both saw, can we really say that they aren’t</span>
  <em>
    <span> truly</span>
  </em>
  <span> chosen?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall grumbled and growled. “There are no chosen men….” He muttered, causing Maxwell to frown. “No chosen men who merely act </span>
  <em>
    <span>because</span>
  </em>
  <span> they were chosen.” His change in the saying perked him and the sister witches up, raising brows all around. “Tell me, initiates: Why did the High Forgemaster and Huntmaster choose you?” Asgall had no idea whether such information had even been explicitly revealed, but that wasn’t the point of his question. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda and Constanze were both stumped. Each of them had to take a few moments to figure their answers out. The former sucked her lips in and drummed her fingers along her thighs from within her pant pockets while the latter looked up at nothing in particular, trying to put together all that had occurred. Had they forgotten something that was said? So much yet so little seemed to transpire in the span of those few minutes, leaving Constanze and Amanda both with much to consider. The heavy handed tone of Asgall’s question spoke to the importance of their answers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda thought back to what Jehanne told her: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“She chose me in a sense, eh? Why can’t I just be chosen, period! Why the wishy washy maybes and kind-ofs? Haven’t we gotten enough of that?!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Truly this journey was as mentally exhausting as it was physically exhausting. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“She said the fire chose me, but what does that mean? Is it alive? Does it know who I am? Does she know who I am? I went down there to go find out if I was really trusted, and all I’ve got now is a headache!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Could the fire trust let alone doubt? It was drawn to her supposedly because of her own fire. How did she not notice it? What fire? How did Constanze get a fire? After all, one lept out of her chest as if it had always been there. So what made any of them special? </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Fucking nothing. That’s what.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Amanda concluded. She was tired of this game already, and felt like her earnest attempt at healing by way of seeking important answers was repaid only with greater uncertainty in herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I mean, I want to be what they’re asking me to be. I… I could get down with running a little group like this. Kickin’ ass to do right by the world, working alongside Conz…. But how the hell do I do that?” </span>
  </em>
  <span> Jehanne had told her to act in the manner she thought most right, but when Amanda herself didn’t know the proper course, or was otherwise uncertain of a proper course to begin with, how was she to act at all? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slowly, she wiped her brow in a frustrated, but quiet sigh. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“She has to trust me if she’s going to ask me to do anything, but WHY!? Why does she have any reason to trust me specifically? Does she just not have any other choice?! Was that stupid fucking weed behind this?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> This left her, sadly, with only one conclusion, one that may or may not have been correct, but one she most certainly loathed: “Jehanne said that anyone with a flame strong like mine could have been chosen…. Some people just have a fire in them, apparently, so I got lucky.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Luck?” Asgall crossed his arms judgmentally. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze snapped out of her own thoughts to dispute this. “Amanda, it’s more than that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, that's the only reason she gave me.” Amanda shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. “That’s my final answer: Luck.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze opened her mouth to argue it further, but sighed. She had fought against Amanda a good deal earlier, and while she thought she had been successful in communicating the truth of her sister’s value, clearly this was something that wouldn’t come easily; and why would it be as such? </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Figures.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Still, Constanze had to be both patient and firm. She knew how easily self depreciation could run rampant when unchallenged. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Very well. You were chosen because you were lucky.” Asgall nodded, not in agreement or approval, but merely in acknowledgement. “And you, Constanze? For what reason were you chosen?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze hesitated for a moment more. Where one may think this to be easier for Constanze, they would be incorrect to assume that Constanze had any clearer idea. If anything, Constanze had less to go off of than Amanda did, so much so that even she was tempted to claim that it was “luck” and circumstance which brought her here. She would say so not out of doubt in the self, but out of logical deduction. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Vaal never said why. Don’t have the full picture, but I bet it was that plant. That crimson flower.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Was luck involved in that? Did Vaal choose her, or the flower? Why not Hannah and Barbara? There must be some sort of reason behind its actions. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It apologized…. It knows what it's doing.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thus, Constanze too was left with one option, though it was much more nebulous to describe: “Something chose me. I don’t know if Vaal did. But something did. I don’t know why, but it has a plan.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall seemed much more bewildered by this explanation, though Maxwell hazarded a guess. “It’s about that thing that trapped you down there, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Constanze nodded. “Maybe. No idea what it is. Doesn’t matter now. Saving Luna Nova matters. Beating the third trial matters.” And quietly, she would admit: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Vengeance matters.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She still could not imagine a future where her rage could be quelled by anything else save for the death of the Bathorys. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And so you mean to imply that the reason is unimportant?” Asgall queried, leaning in with a leer. Constanze merely returned the leer, unblinkingly meeting his gaze. She nodded once, and the two stared at one another for a few seconds more. “Very well. The reason is either moot, or it is luck….” Asgall slowly recoiled back into a straight posture, arms still cross about his chest. “My point is proven. You are no chosen witches, not in the mythical sense. You are as all those who fought that came before you: People who stood up and fought when faced with evil. Thus you must face me as initiates. Thus you will fight as initiates…. Come the end of this battle against the Bathorys, you shall be judged on your merits, the needs of our situation, and nothing else. I will not spit upon the legacies you claim to continue by simply empowering you with undue authority.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I still think this trial of yours is too much, Asgall.” Maxwell wrapped his staff once against the ground, and sternly regarded his friend. “There must be some other—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” Constanze interjected.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?” Maxwell’s firm expression broke as he turned to Constanze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll prove we’re worth it. That’s what you want. That’s what you’ll get.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda didn’t miss a beat in following up with her own declaration, holding a fist up at around chest height. “We wouldn’t even dream of comin’ at this any other way now. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I ain’t some spoiled brat, and neither is Conz. All we want is to do is save our friends, do what we love most, and do right while doin’ that.” She sounded less confident and more spiteful. If she was “unworthy,” then damn the forces which deemed her as such. She’d prove herself regardless. It wasn’t the most elegant way of saying this, but Amanda was understood regardless, and Constanze could only grunt in agreement. As long as the latter could work as a smith, uncover her family history, and have the fruits of her labor serve others for the better, she’d be happy. And so long as the former could travel, fight, and protect others, then she was as happy as could be with her work. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall drummed his claws along the old and taught flesh of his forearms. His nose twitched and his jaw cracked to the left then right. His eyes finally closed when he began speaking. “Good. Let us be about this business then.” He dropped his arms, his posture, and turned to the exit of the grand hall. His long, slow, almost lethargic but thoughtful pace allowed him to raise his voice to offer a few more instructions to Amanda and Constanze as he left. “Gather your wargear. Maxwell. Take them due east to the highest peak. You shall find a plateau marked by four flames. I will await them there.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell sighed, looked to the ground and shook his head. “Aye. I’ll do that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda patted Maxwell roughly on the back in response. “Quit moping, Maxy! We’ve got this, one way or another.” Amanda lied through her teeth. Her conviction was there, but her confidence could not be found in truth. She would fake it until she made it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Fuck the reasons why. I’m here now, and that’s all that matters.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell sighed again, though he couldn’t halt the small smile from growing on his face. “If you say so, Amanda. If you say so.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze took the time while the others exchanged words to write out a short list. At the top of it, she had underlined one statement in particular. She held it up for the other two to read. “We’ll need these:” Below was a concise, yet detailed list of armaments Constanze planned to assemble. If Asgall wasn’t holding much back, then they had no reason to either. She’d see them use everything they had at their disposal. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Gotta prove him wrong. Gotta prove them wrong too.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze could only assume that Asgall was disapproving of their responses. She found that his expression mirrored the disappointment her parents had all too many times in the past. Nothing was good enough for them half of the time. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Couldn’t prove it to them when I was young, but I can prove it now.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She was deserving of being a witch-smith, of being a member of this order, and of being entrusted with this legacy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unbeknownst to the others though, Asgall was pleased with their answer. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Now I know why they were chosen.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>About an hour later….</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The air above the highland mountains was calm and clear. The waxing moon hung high above, its light unimpeded by clouds, a rare sight in Scotland, let alone any of the Celtic-Anglo isles; night was fully upon the land. The darkness was illuminated, both by small lanterns that hung from the ends of Maxwell’s and Amanda’s broom, and by the distant pyres of the blue flames; the sight of the upcoming battle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell flew beside Amanda and Constanze, helping to ferry a small sack of implements Constanze had them gather: Improvised explosives, magical and mundane in nature. Caltrops. A few potions, cobbled together with Maxwell’s aid, jingled in the sack beside those traps. In the sack strapped to Amanda’s broom, the one Benjamin had gifted her, were many magical crystals. Each of the witches would hold onto a few and crush them as needed in the midst of battle. They would allow them to refresh their magical reserves, for while the spirit was ever willing, the flow of magic, when intensified, put natural strain on the body. Those crystals would hopefully alleviate it, for neither initiate believed they would have a chance to take a measured pace against a foe like Asgall. Lastly, they were armored for the occasion. Amanda was dressed just as she was for the prior two trials while Constanze decided to forsake the heavy armor in favor of lighter gear. She had steel pauldrons strapped to her shoulders, an open faced steel helmet, and otherwise wore a simple leather harness over her navy coat. Mobility would serve them better; she couldn’t imagine any layer of armor they could muster with their current resources would properly hold up against Asgalls’ attacks for long. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now listen carefully,” Maxwell raised a finger up pointedly, his tone as serious, his eyes hard. “I know you’ve killed a few vampires already, but even so, it’s never too late to learn how to fight them the </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> way.” Maxwell was no expert on vampire hunting, but Asgall had taught him well, and the order trained all hunters in the art of hunting various creatures that posed a consistent and considerable threat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We already know what to do.” Constanze chided, not wanting to come off as angry, but failing to mind her temper regardless. She had become more and more on edge amidst their preparations. For one, she was finding it harder to control her nascent rage as they drew ever closer to the final confrontation at Luna Nova. She might admit that part of Amanda “rubbed off on her,” or perhaps this impatience was always present in Constanze, but was, until now, kept in check by the cold logic of her mind. “Destroy the heart. Head. Spine. Or blast it until it's dead.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now that’s a battle plan I can get behind.” Amanda joked, hoping to mask her own anxiety behind humor and faux confidence, as always; the light hearted mirror to Constanze’s concealment through bitterness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For one, I’d like it if you </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> kill Asgall.” Though Maxwell couldn’t say that Asgall wasn’t looking to be killed himself. After all, if Amanda and Constanze were capable of felling an ascended vampire at such an early stage in their lives among the order, it would speak to an unprecedented amount of untold potential, one to rival the Nine themselves. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t he just get back up anyway?” Amanda queried. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not instant, you know. It takes…. Ohh…. I want to say the longest its ever taken’ him was five years.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damn.” Amanda didn’t really have much else to say on that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Should avoid it then.” Constanze added. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“More to the point,” Maxwell raised his voice to garner their attention. “Saying you’ll stab it until its dead may be an effective way of killin’ most things, but it’s not a smart way to survive. Just how did you beat those vampires anyhow?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhhhh.” Amanda adjusted the grip of her hands on the broomstick. “We kinda just improvised.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Make stuff up as we go along.” Constanze hated it, but couldn’t deny that it worked wonders so far, barring some exceptions. She was a bit too frazzled and drained to really come up with a battle plan of any kind right now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course, that isn’t what Maxwell wanted to hear. He leaned back, holding his face with both hands and sighing deeply. “That’ll be a fine way to lose this trial faster than you can say ‘rematch’ and an even faster way to </span>
  <em>
    <span>die</span>
  </em>
  <span> to a vampire who actually wants to see you dead.” He lowered his hands back to the broom, keeping his trajectory steady as they floated on toward the plateau where Asgall waited. “So listen close: There’s three rules you’ll want to live by when facing vampires.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, let’s hear em.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rule number one: Avoid getting up close and personal with a vampire, if at all possible.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry to break it to you Maxy, but up close and personal is kinda my </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you know?” Amanda gestured with her left hand. “I mean, I chose Dyrnwyn and Carnwennan for a reason.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye, allow me to rephrase that: Avoid getting into an </span>
  <em>
    <span>honest</span>
  </em>
  <span> melee with a vampire.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Honest?” Constanze raised a brow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As in kill them before they even have a chance to strike back.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t that obvious?” Constanze asked with some confusion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Seems like the best way to deal with anything out to kill you if you ask me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell groaned. “L-Look, what I mean is that if you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>going to get up close</span>
  </em>
  <span>, then you better make it quick.” He paused to peer out toward the designated plateau. They weren’t far now, but they had a few minutes at least. “You don’t have Carnwennan now, but when you do, Amanda, use it to strike first, and strike true…. Now, if you’re forced to exchange blows, follow rule two: NEVER and I mean NEVER let a vampire control the flow of the battle.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda pursed her lips. She had an idea of what Maxwell meant, but thought it better to be safe rather than sorry and dead. “You mean never give ‘em a chance to breathe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Exactly.” Maxwell nodded firmly. “If you need to break from an engagement to get yourself together, then do it only when you’ve wounded ‘em enough to keep the bastard busy. Vampires don’t feel pain all that much, but they aren’t immune to it either…. They’re still human after all, in some way.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Got it.” Constanze would be taking literal notes, but she had to hold onto Amanda’s waits to feel safe on the broom, so she took them mentally. “Best defense is a good offense.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Regardless of how you’re fighting a vampire, don’t let it drag on. End it, and it quickly.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Easier said than done.” Constanze remarked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Indeed, but it’s good to keep in mind. So long as you’re fighting a vampire, you’re gonna wanna be looking for weaknesses from the get go. Exploit ‘em to the fullest, and don’t give anything but your all at all times. Tired as your body may get, know that our enemies don’t know what it means to be tired anymore, not in the normal sense. Now, rule number three—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> rule number three?” Amanda cockeck her head to look at Maxwell directly as they flew. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh…. I suppose that was….” Maxwell cleared his throat. “There are four rules then!” Amanda and Constanze unwittingly rolled their eyes in unison. “Don’t give me that! Be grateful I’m even telling you this! If Asgall knew I was giving you insight like this, he might call the whole thing botched.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not to be an ass,” Amanda was </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> trying to be an ass though; knowingly or otherwise. “But now seems like the time to tell us exactly what you’re telling us. What’s got Asgall so stuck up on this third trial needing to be so… hard?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell sighed and turned his head forward, not wanting to dwell on the hypotheticals too much. “He wants much out of you…. Too much for how green you both are. No offense.” The silence that followed showed that neither of them took it personally. That left Maxwell to ponder on Asgall’s words: The things he feared. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Two women does not a revolution make, Asgall.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> It’s what he would have said to Asgall before they went down to see the Balefire, had Amanda and Constanze not interjected. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So what’s the fourth rule?” Amanda asked, only to be ignored.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“He can’t expect them to bring about the balance all on their own….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Maxwell saw what became of imperial destruction, and was still barely able to accept that the world had simply “moved on” from the devastation of war after war, conquest after conquest, genocide upon genocide. The cycle needed to end, but it couldn’t be rushed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s not like him to put that much stock in a few people. Hells…. No chosen men he says, yet what else is he doing but choosing them to fight where he can’t?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Maxwell almost sounded bitter inside of his own head. He had a great report with his vampiric friend, but friendships were never immune to hardship and misunderstanding. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze grunted and cleared her throat, but to no avail. Amanda shrugged back at her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I want the balance to be returned as much as he does, but even the Nine couldn’t hold it together forever.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>How would Amanda and Constanze be different? What contradictions even plagued the Nine? These questions, and more, rattled about Maxwell’s mind, allowing him no peace. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Snap! Snap! Snap!</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze snapped her fingers thrice, eliciting a few blinks from the thousand-yard-staring Maxwell. “Hmm?” He had lost himself in though for a few awkward moments. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Earth to Maxwell! You said there were four rules! Mind telling us the fourth one before we get there?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A-Ah! Yes! M-My apologies…. I was… absorbed in thought.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You do that alot.” Constanze flatly stated before resting her head on Amanda’s back, feeling more socially exhausted by the moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When you’re as old as I am, it’s normal.” Maxwell affirmed, wriggling his chin and beard in crotchety-old-man fashion. “Now then. Rule number four: If all else fails, if you can’t avoid melee, if you can’t keep them off the offensive, and if you can’t end it quickly, then you’ll need to do two things.” Amanda and Constanze both listened with mild anticipation. A moment later, Maxwell explained. “You’ll need to put those foul mouths of yours to use, and disrespect them like it’s nobody’s business, and you’ll need to </span>
  <em>
    <span>not die</span>
  </em>
  <span> while doing that!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve gotta fucking kidding me.” Surprisingly, or perhaps not so surprisingly, it was Constanze who said that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh someone’s gonna get insulted to death alright: And that someone’s gonna be you if you don’t explain how that would </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> be useful?” Amanda couldn’t lie though, part of her hoped this piece of advice was genuine. Maybe her idle moments spent thinking up insults to hurl at Nikolai and his goons wouldn’t be for naught after all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious!” Maxwell urged. “Vampires tend to be very prideful. When you live as long as they do, and are forced to feed on others to survive, while being empowered with all the benefits vampirism brings…. You… let’s say people tend to get a tad full of ‘emselves.” Maxwell tapped his left temple as he turned his head to face the sister witches. “If you can’t beat ‘em outright in strength, beat ‘em in their mind. Pride’s a vampire's greatest weakness, next to the sun. Like I said earlier: They’re still human, but have lived so long, and felt so little in all of that time that their emotions tend to be all sorts of messed up! A frenzied fighter like that is bound to slip up, and that’s where you take the initiative back from them.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, seriously?” Amanda chuckled, smiling with restrained, impish delight. “Haha! Maybe we’ll be alright after all! No one out-disses Amanda-Freakin-O’Neill!” That was </span>
  <em>
    <span>real </span>
  </em>
  <span>confidence showing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze could tell, but she wasn’t sure if that should make her feel more confident in turn, or less. “Mmm….” He sighing grunt accompanied a faint smile. She had tried to get Amanda’s spirits high with genuine emotional support, and while Constanze knew it would be helpful in the long run, she couldn’t get over the fact that something as stupid as being told that one of the best ways to win a fight was through insults was the thing that perked Amanda up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Thank god she loves to run her mouth.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze knew she might have some choice words for the Bathorys, Nikolai especially, but she was not a wordsmith in any sense of the word. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“H-Hold on! It’s not that easy, you know! And it’s n-not meant to be the go-to! It’s a fallback plan at best!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahhh come on, lemme laugh a little! We’ve got enough to dread over already.” Honestly, Amanda wasn’t sure how any of them hadn’t suffered from a heart attack yet given the weight of the situation. “Though Asgall doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to get ticked off by much.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’d be a waste of yer breath” All Maxwell wanted to see was Amanda and Constanze embarrassing themselves. “Now focus up! We’re nearly there.” Better to leave them to their mental preparations, he surmised. All three went silent a bit after, though Amanda ran a few choice insults by Constanze for “approval.” It was a nice distraction from Constanze’s latent fury and Amanda’s rampant doubts. By the end of the ride, as they came within but a minute of the plateau, Maxwell could only be certain of one thing: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ve made a terrible mistake….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He was only </span>
  <em>
    <span>mostly </span>
  </em>
  <span>joking about that.  </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Four blue flames illuminated the stag: A stone square, slightly elevated from the ground of the plateau, would be their arena. Asgall stood at the north end, while Amanda, Constanze, and Maxwell landed to his south. On the east and western sides mostly, but all around to osme degree, were Fae and monsters; those who came to aid in the second trial, who were either intrigued by the order’s seeming revival from the ashes, or who were directly invested in seeing it well and truly revived. Among those present were The Wyvern, three queerly shapes stones, several spriggans, goblins, a Kelpie, several ghosts,and of course, Frararanca and her band of Spritely friends. Those and more were gathered ‘round; Fae and magical beings of all kinds that hailed from the Celtic-Anglo Isles. The only one who didn’t show up from the second trial would be The Dullahan; she had more important matters to tend to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the trio landed, Frararanca burst into cheers that rang out over the idle chatter of her Fae companions. “Our champions arrive! A round for them please! And make it roaring indeed!” Clapping followed; even the Hagstones got involved, though it was hard to hear them vibrating given how minute a movement it was. They all came to cheer the two witches on, despite having been thrashed by those same witches naught but hours ago. Such was their hope in the Balefire. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda and Constanze both looked around with mixed emotion. There was wonder in their eyes, for despite being witches, and knowing of the Fae and their ways, such a diverse assortment of them was quite the sight indeed. They smiled uneasily, experiencing natural joy from the trust placed in them by the Fae, but feeling dread from Asgall’s cold, unflinching stare that was held upon them from across the way. Their vampiric foe stood tall, arms held at ease by his side. He was fully upright, nearly nine feet tall, and as hulking as ever. He did not smile, nor cheer, nor offer an approving nod though: He would reserve that only for when he saw them succeed. Amanda and Constanze both saw their smiles disperse from their face as they locked eyes with Asgall. The cheers died down in time, and all fell quiet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall began to stride forward. His slow steps accompanied the only other noises: The mountainous wind, the murmurs from the crowd, Amanda and Constanze’s fidgeting. When Asgall arrived in the center, he leisurely beckoned both initiates forward, though nothing else about his appearance seemed relaxed. Both witches met him as instructed, and thus he spoke. “I’m glad that you have come as you are. Not only to this trial, but to the Balefire of Caledonia; to our order. Regardless of whether you triumph or fail here, or against the Bathorys, I want you both to know that I shall remember you both fondly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda rubbed the back of her head and chuckled weakly. “It’s not like we’re going off to die yet. No need to get all sentimental.” Hopefully there would be time for such a thing later; were it so easy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did I not warn you that I cannot promise your complete safety?” Asgall rolled his shoulders, his jaw cracked sickeningly, earning a twitch from both initiates as it appeared to almost unhinge and reattach of its own accord. “There is no </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe</span>
  </em>
  <span> way to handle a sword, only </span>
  <em>
    <span>safer</span>
  </em>
  <span> ways. The same can be said for mine own body and powers.” His arms stretched down to present himself as his head looked to the ground. He examined himself one last time. A sigh escaped his otherwise unmoving maw. “I hope that you have come amply armed.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.” Constanze heaved her backpack off of her shoulder and set it in front of her legs. She then thumbed back to the two sacks attached to the brooms which Maxwell was untying and laying out. “Need a minute to get ready. We’re set otherwise.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Very well.” Asgall nodded. “Before you attend to that though, I must ask that you show me your right hands; the ones I marked earlier.” Both witches paused to think for a moment before doing as asked, remembering the ritual from the night prior. “Before I forget, I would like to inscribe upon your flesh the sign of your victories.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda hazarded a guess. “You mean the other two trials?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Indeed. Typically initiates are marked with one of the three lances upon completing any of the three trials. Once an initiate has received all three, they are considered a full member of the order, and are given the mark of flame to complete the tattoo….” He paused to take Amanda’s right wrist and prepare the Far Lunar magicks he had used to mark them prior. “For now, this will do.” Asgalls magicks were much less worrying to see in action the second time around. Sure, it still hurt a decent bit given the sensitivity of the body part he was inscribing on, but Amanda and Constanze knew what to expect. Both of them were marked with two cross lines that began thickly by the wrist-ward bottom and thinned toward the knuckles. A clear space was left in the middle where the third and final mark would go, assuming that both witches passed the trial. Once it was done, Asgall released Constanze, and stepped back one pace. “Wear it proudly, come victory or defeat.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda and Constanze regarded their hands with curiosity and grim resolve. Still, Amanda managed, or perhaps forced, a smile of sorts. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“They always hate it when I come back with new scars.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda thought of Hannah and Barbara. Her mind briefly wandered to the imagined vista of a seaside town in northern France, where their shoppe would be. Days by the shore, romantic dinners, casual strolls about a new town, getting to know all of the quaint and cute stores and sites of intrigue. Amanda may have welcomed adrenaline as though it were as life giving as water, but she yearned for quieter days. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Maybe I should start lookin’ into rings….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She mused. Maybe if they didn’t like the sight of a scarred or tattooed hand, they’d appreciate one with a band on it. Then she shook her head, maintaining the weak, troubled smile. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Alright, hold up. Let’s make sure I can actually be a good girlfriend first.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>They had plenty of life left to spend together to figure such things out. Amanda rolled her right wrist once and then formed a fist, letting both of her hands rest by her sides. She was ready.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze had much less to say to herself about the mark on her hand. She appreciated it for what it was: A sign on her body, an immutable reminder to herself that she had more to live and fight for. Her work meant something, her magical art and interest meant something. Now all that remained to justify was the hate; the rage. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It has to mean something. I’ll make it mean something.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Had they more time, she would be able to think more on her fixations and vengeance. She had the tools, the motive, and the problem, but the links between the first and third components to the second component, the motive, seemed only tenuous. She wanted them as iron, as the chains that bound her to the Balefire, to Amanda, Sucy, all of those she trusted. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Now or never.” </span>
  </em>
  <span> She resolved to set aside her dizzying matters for now. She had to have absolute focus in the battle; she would settle for nothing less. They had to emerge victorious, here and now. “Thank you.” She flatly said to Asgall, almost absentmindedly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda followed up. “Yeah. Thanks for this.” Part of her wanted to wait to thank him until they had Dyrnwyn and Carnwennan, but she wasn’t so crass as to believe they weren’t helpful in other ways. The order alone would give them both a future, bleak or bright, and that was more than what their earlier prospects could offer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are welcome.” Asgall replied. “Lastly, before I leave to your final preparations, I would make clear the rules of engagement.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Last for five minutes in the ring with you; no holds barred, right?” Amanda quipped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, so you remembered the specifics then. Good.” Not that they were complex rules, but knowing the time was especially important. “Very well. When you are ready, merely state as much and we may begin.” Asgall turned about and calmly strode back to his side of the square-circle, commenting on one last detail. “Frararanca,” He raised his voice that the Sylph might hear him. “I trust you and Maxwell to keep the time. Stop your count only when five minutes have passed, or when both witches are unable to fight further.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You got it!” Frararanca saluted with the expected vigour and energy from such a lively Fae. “But uh, what counts as ‘unable to fight,’ just so I know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Unconscious, grievously wounded, or otherwise held down with no chance of escape.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You heard the little bat!” Frararanca jokingly commanded to her Sprite companions. “Get the clock ready!” The Sprites themselves were in fact the clock, having formed into the number five, two dots to represent a colon, and then two zeroes. “We count down on your mark!” All was in order save for Amanda and Constanze, and so they hoofed it back to the laid out bundles of tools and gadgets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell was down on one knee, examining some of the various implements that had been brought. He had helped in picking out a few, justy as he aided in making the potions, but others he hadn’t remembered seeing. “Are you two really sure all of this is necessary? I know I told you to be ready for anything, but….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t know the field.” Constanze chimed as she got down on both knees and began to more acutely examine each tool. “Could’ve been indoors. Could’ve been uneven ground. Could’ve been wooded. Better safe than sorry.” Constanze wasn’t sure just how this duel would go anyway. Would this be a hunt all its own, where Asgall was the predator? Could they leave the arena to create distance between them? It didn’t seem as such, but with that in mind, it let her rule out any climbing gear, camouflage, and any other gear that required set up. They may have known they needed to last five minutes, but perhaps they would have been given a “head start,” of course, with that not being the case their focus need only lay in direct combat. “Amanda, what—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shh!” Amanda had knelt down beside Constanze, and reached over to press her left pointer finger to her sister’s lips. “He can probably hear us! Remember?” Both of them glanced back to look at Asgall who exacerbatedly sighed, rubbed his temples, and then plugged his ears. He wasn’t intent on using any of his eavesdropping against them, but they seemed intent on staring until he deafened himself. “Ok…. What were you asking?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Draco-lichen oil or compacted spark-ash?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wanna ask me that again in English?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oil grenade or flashbang.” Constanze’s question became a statement or sort from how she said it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take the oil.” Amanda nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-Where did you get enough spark-ash to compact into—” Maxwell began, but was cut short by Constanze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmmm….” Constanze rolled her shoulders as she set aside the clusters of three bombs each, all of which being contained in simple two-piece iron balls that split open upon heavy impact. One set of three was marked in red, the other yellow. Constanze pushed the red ones toward Amanda, who took them up and stowed them in a little pouch by her wand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“R-Right, no time for that.” Even he was starting to get a hang of what Constanze meant based on her grunts and body language, though it was a slow process. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few minutes went by in relative quiet as the bombs, booby-traps, potions, herbs, and foci were split among the two witches. Everything was kept light, secure, and easily accessible on bandoliers. Constanze kept two in an X across her chest, while Amanda kept only one, preferring to worry less about managing any knick-knacks while already having to handle a wand, sword, and dagger. “So: We need a plan. Any ideas?” Amanda queried. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm….” Constanze glanced off at nothing in particular before elaborating with hand gestures. She raised both of her pointer fingers, held them close together, and then moved them apart. Then she brought them back and forth, crossing one hand in front of the other. “Tag in. Tag out.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahhhh, I get yah.” Amanda rose up to one knee, using her sword as a support. “We keep tradin’ off the heat and taking shots where we can. If we keep makin’ it too hard for him to stay on any of us for too long, then we can focus on running out the clock.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.” Constanze nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It could work.” Maxwell added. “But you’ll be hard pressed to draw his attention. Vampires can take a lot of punishment, but the ascended ones make ogres look frail.” And even that was an understatement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If he’s tough as shit, strong as shit, and fast as shit, then the best thing we can do then is make him slow.” Amanda tapped at her own right foot with her left hand. “You said it yourself: Don’t let it drag on. Sure, we might not be able to kill him, but if we can get at the knees or ankles or something like that, maybe we can make it too hard to keep up with us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You must mind the pain factor! Remember: Vampires don’t feel much in that regard.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Achilles tendon.” Countered Constanze. “Cut that and enough bone and it won’t be a matter of pain. Make him waste time healing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good luck getting an easy bead on him.” Maxwell lamented; this challenge was looking more insurmountable by the moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I could always bait him.” Amanda suggested. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Too risky.” Constanze chided, not wanting to see Amanda needlessly endanger herself further, but also believing the idea to be foolish. “Quick takedown is off the table. Unless we get lucky, probably not happening. Just survive. Waste time.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye, it’s much safer that way.” Maxwell nodded solemnly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda scoffed.  “What kinda training is that? We can’t just dance around </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> vampires forever!” She looked to Maxwell in particular with some confusion. “And didn’t you just tell us </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> to drag things out? You know, because of the whole getting tired issue?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not a practical scenario.” Constanze spoke for him. She got the point across in fewer words. “Not meant to simulate a real fight against a vampire. Meant to make sure we don’t die too easily. Different rules.” </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So much for the four rules.” Amanda rolled her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s the right of it though.” Maxwell confirmed. “From what I’ve gathered, there’s only two reasons you're fighting </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> specifically: One, he’s a vampire of sorts, so it’ll be relatively similar to fighting a real one in terms of abilities.” He paused briefly to cough. “I mean, if you take away the magic and such…. More importantly he’s the most dangerous thing that’ll cooperate that’s within a good many kilometers.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you’re saying this is a stress test?” Amanda scratched at her neck, adjusting her brigantine armor to get at the itch.. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Exactly.” Maxwell groaned as he rose back to his feet with the aid of his staff. “If you can handle something this dangerous, even if only for a few minutes, then you’ll likely be able to handle the Bathorys with more witches and Fae at your back. It’s not guarantee that if you pass this that you’ll survive the battle, but—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We know.” Constanze didn’t need reminding. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>But</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Maxwell continued. “It’s a good measurement to see if you’re ready, and if ye can be trusted with artifacts like Dyrnwyn and Carnwennan….” He sounded judicious at first, stern in his explanation, as if he believed all of the words he spoke. In truth, there was much hesitation in his mind which seeped through as a more mournful and frightened frown formed. “But after what we saw down in the Balefire’s chamber… I don’t know why he won’t just relent.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm. Mmm-mm.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know…. No chosen men….” Maxwell wiped his face slowly, composing himself. “Just tell me now, for the sake of my old, softened heart, that you’re both alright with this.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.” Constanze nodded, offering a thumbs up, juxtaposed by her signature grimace. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda offered the same gesture, but with a forced half-smile. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” How else would Amanda convince herself that she deserved the responsibilities thrust upon her?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell sighed. He really should have expected this answer by now. “Alright…. Just don’t forget what I told you.” Maxwell matched his friend’s grimness, in tone and look. This last sentiment was all he could offer now, save moral support through his presence, and so he took to the sidelines.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze and Amanda were left to themselves now. They regarded each other with a nod. Their plan would be simple, but hopefully effective. If they could “tag” in and out of danger, then it would force Asgall to constantly assess more threats and how to combat them rather than being able to focus on going in for a “kill-shot,” so to speak. And if they could reliably hinder his movement, then by all accounts they’d have this in the bag. No further words were needed now. Amanda and Constanze both rose, whisked the tarp of remaining tools and potions away with their wands, and turned to face Asgall. Amanda made to walk diagonally to her left, and Constanze went right. They kept their eyes on their foe, and made sure to stay slow for now; this was merely them positioning for the opening gambit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall took notice of their aim right away and began pacing back and forth, slowly; predatorily.  Amidst his walk he cast his robe to the wind, leaving him nude save for the monkish dress that covered him from the waist down. He raised his right claw to the height of his cheek and held it there plainly. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His mind went to a place of darkness and blood, of fury and hunger. He had taken on the life of an ascetic to control such aspects of himself, but the time had come to unleash that beast within him, if only by a small margin. He repeated mantras within his mind as the transformation began for it was through the practice of meditation and strict self restraint that he was able to maintain an amiable personality. The words of peace, tranquility, and of his vows and values would serve as his anchors to reality; one of few things that would allow him to return from the brink of bloody starvation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> A grating sound of metal scraping quickly against metal marked the beginning of his change. His already long nails became as daggers in sharpness and length. His spiked back and shoulders bristled, bulged, and cracked as his form grew a few inches taller still. His posture, once upright, hunched into a crescent curl, though he barely lost height from this change in his physiology; the sound of his spine contorting and reshaping could only be described as disgusting. His eyes opened, revealing that the black orbs dotted by tiny red irises had gone. They were now wholly crimson. Asgall’s gait had changed too: It had become wider. His legs were bent sharply at the knees, but his height never decreased despite that. He walked more like a bird than a man; a raptor ready to pounce, a vulture hissing at dying prey. Finally, he lifted up his left claw and pointed off toward Frararanca and her Sprites. </span>
  <b>“By your count….”</b>
  <span> Gravelly was no longer an adequate term to describe his voice. It was more a gurgle, vicious and hungry, tempered only by the man who yet dwelled within the quasi-bestial form that was Asgall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frararanca shivered; a chill ran up her body. “O-Ok!” She had seen ascended vampires act ornery before; annoying Asgall was one of her favorite pastimes after all. The sight of him prepared for battle was far more unsettling. It was a controlled fury, yes, but there was something uniquely primordial and otherworldly about how Asgall looked at them now, as if some sort of switch had been flicked. She faltered in beginning the countdown immediately as her mind briefly wandered. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“By the Verdancy…. What’s gotten into him?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She couldn’t dwell on it long though. There was a battle to be had, and she was the timekeeper. “A-Ahem! On your marks…!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze slung her blaster from off of her shoulder at the sound of Frararanca’s voice. She maintained tenuous eye contact on Asgall, despite how disturbing his appearance had become. She kept her wand unattached from her go-to weapon for now. They needed versatility, and while a high powered slug from her gun should take out a hefty chunk of flesh, Constanze knew better than to rely on such a wound to stop him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Stay light. Stay fast. Barrier spells…. Obstacles….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She ran through her mind's library of known spells; the kind she had been thinking of: One’s that would impede Asgall. Her “library” wasn’t vast, but it was well organized, and she had enough spells and tricks up her sleeve to keep herself relatively safe. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Grappling hook: Check. High intensity U.V. beam emitter: Check.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>If all else failed, her inventions would carry the day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get set!” Frararanca felt her lips involuntarily tense. The Sprite-clock shook with anticipation. Beside them both, Maxwell stood, gripping his staff intensely, looking on with hard eyes. He almost couldn’t bear to blink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda drew her blades. She attached her dagger to the slot on her chain-gauntlet, and then brought her wand to bear. Her sword was held in her right hand, and her left carried the wand. The blade was kept at mid-guard position, held parallel to her body at an angle, ready to deter any attack that might immediately come her way while the wand was held out past that, already brimming with magic. Her brow felt wet with sweat. All was quiet, but the voices remained. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“God DAMNIT! Not now!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She hissed internally, biting her cheek to suppress a vocal response. There would be two battles raging: The one within, and the one without. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The final call came: “Fight!” A bell wielding goblin rang out furiously, chiming the beginning of the duel. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There would be no further waiting on Asgall’s part. The cry of the bell came as his pacing stride saw him turn around to walk the other direction, and so instead of completing the turn, he immediately began to bound toward the two witches, having hunched down into a low sprint. The vampires at Luna Nova were fast, but Asgall was like lightning! The sound of his right claw scraping against the stone shrieked in their ears; it was being dragged along, leaving fine quarter inch deep marks in the surface. The only thing that afforded either witch a chance to act was the fact that his sprint took a winding pattern. It was a deliberate motion, one made to confuse and surprise them; both reflexively made to dodge the uppercut swipe of his right claw.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze had erected herself on a small pillar of stone, flat at the surface, hoping to evade the blow by way of having him strike the pillar instead, while Amanda took a more conventional movement and dove to her right. Only Amanda needed to move in truth, for as soon as she got out of the way, she saw the hulking vampire ascendant dashing just a meter or so through where she stood. By how his claw rent the air, sending stone shrapnel from the floor up and forward, Amanda was certain she would have been made into ribbons had she not reacted. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Holy shit!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>That was about all she could muster; even the voices gave pause at that display. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Can he STOP himself!?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>What if she hadn’t gotten out of the way? Would Asgall be able to stay his hand despite the speed? Better to not find out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was merely the opener though, and it hardly left Asgall vulnerable. Though he had overshot, he was able to pivot on his heels with surprising accuracy and grace. His blurred form slowed on the turn, and then grew hazy once more as he lunged toward Amanda once more with a shrieking roar: A true bat out of hell! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One strike! Two! Three! Ten! His attacks were as fast as his feet, and he was only using one hand! The other was left to the side and behind Asgall’s figure, as if it were unnecessary. Amanda had to dodge and block them every single attempt nonetheless, and she did, but without any of the grace or cohesion with which her opponent struck. Her sword clashed over and over with his claw, and with moments, she was stumbling back in a dizzying retreat. Asgall’s eyes pierced her soul. He did not blink. The crowd gasped in astonishment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze blinked though. She blinked thrice just to make sure she was seeing this right. Even that time spent was enough time to allow Asgall another four strikes that Amanda only evaded by way of a Phos spell that saw her flying back and landing ten feet away, nearly on her backside for that matter. How do you plan against that kind of aggression? That kind of speed? Was he really giving it his all from out of the gate? Constanze asked these questions and a thousand more in the time between seconds until her mind demanded action. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Plan! Stick to the plan!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She readied her wand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Spark-Sparr</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>It crackled with lightning, ready to be cast out, but before she could finish the incant, she saw that Asgall had already taken notice of her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Scheiße!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>With another screech that haunted the ears of all present, Asgall crouched a few inches low only to leap with incredible force, his left claw was now brought to bear, held back as strange magical energies, crimson and black, swelled in his palm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall didn’t aim for Constanze though; no. He went for an easier target, one he knew that couldn’t evade: The pillar upon which she stood. As he dove through the air, his left claw was thrust forward, sending a concentrated beam of Far-Lunar magic toward the stone shaft. The beam obliterated it, sending dust and shrapnel everywhere; the crowds ducked, covering their eyes and heads. Constanze too went tumbling down, her spell being finished at the moment of her fall. A lightning bolt shot out from her wand, illuminating the otherwise unclouded sky as far as forty meters above. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It would not go unnoticed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze almost fell upon the now ruined base of the pillar, but Amanda was quick to react with a spell. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Typherious Phos Ellera!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A concentrated wind gust pushed Constanze out of the air and toward Amanda, who briefly dropped her sword to catch Constanze. They more or less fell into each other, knocking themselves to the ground, but it was preferable to the alternative. Asgall meanwhile hadn’t stopped mid flight of course, and had barrelled through the cloud of billowing stoney-smoke, leaving him mostly obscured. For mercy, this gave Amanda and Constanze just enough time to get back up on their feet while Asgall sifted through the dust to catch sight of them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda’s eyes drifted to the Sprite clock: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Four minutes forty seconds.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Only twenty seconds had passed. Amanda scrambled for her sword, but something darted out from the cloud of dust: Bolts! Bolts of hardened crimson crystal! They smashed into the stone floor right in front of Amanda’s reaching hand, causing her to stumble back, only to be caught by Constanze. The smell in the air was acrid; iron. Asgall had fired three spikes of crystalline blood! It was so dense as to pierce the stone, becoming embedded a foot deep within the surface. “JESUS!” Amanda yelped as she fell against Constanze. The clouds stirred more: Asgall was charging!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“MOVE!” Constanze urged as she shoved her sister off. Amanda ran off with her sister’s aid, leaving Constanze to defend herself. Asgall bound forth on all fours from out of the smoke only to leap up at the lone witch once near. His right claw was raised to eclipse the moon, ready to strike down with a heavy swipe. Constanze acted as fast as she could. The grappling hook attachment of her blaster came in handy, allowing her to hook onto a far edge of the arena. She used its momentum to dodge under Asgall’s jumping attack, though she did not fully avoid damage. The blood-crystal spikes remained in the ground just in front of her, and despite her best attempts to tuck herself up into the air, she knew physics would be working against her here. Her armor was torn in three places where the tips of the spikes raked across her chest. She was lucky not to be skewered entirely, but she felt her blood run. Her landing was just as graceful as her escape:Her sleeves and pants started to rip at the knees and elbows, leaving her with a nasty case of roadburn as she slid along the stone, flipping over once, and then once more before the momentum stopped. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Conz!” Amanda yelled, already making to run to her sister’s aid once she was clear of the danger. At the same time, the sound of churning stone emanated from where Asgall struck: He had rent a terrible claw mark in the rock, creating a near foot wide gash. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze groaned and hissed from acute pains as Amanda arrived at her side. Her sister aided her to her feet, though Constanze roughly shrugged her hands off. She didn’t mean to seem rude, but Amanda didn’t know where she was hurting, and so her attempts at helping just caused more problems. “Fine…. I’m fine.” She broke open a small vial form her bandolier and wiped a viscous glob of crushed herbs on the wound. It stung like hell, but it clotted near instantly. This was the only respite they would be afforded though:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall’s attack may have missed, but his assault would not end there. His nose flared at the scent of blood, his eyes widened; his magicks would be enhanced with every drop spilt. Hunched over the hole he had made, Asgall jerked his body around, spotting Amanda and Constanze together. He growled lowly and raised his left claw high to the air in such a way that made it seem like he was struggling with some great pressure, or was pushing up an invisible wall. The claw and arm surged with Far-Lunar magicks, and the blood left on the crystals came to his palm by unseen forces. </span>
  <b>“FRIEGHYRRG’IER!” </b>
  <span>The language of a distant moon escaped his bladed maw, and what followed baffled both Constanze and Amanda, but also most of the Fae, and even Maxwell. None had seen Asgall unleash more than a fraction of his sorcerous arsenal, and this spell was merely one among many he either refused to use, or never got the chance to learn, having sworn off the study of Blood Moons’ magicks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A great orb of magical energy formed where the blood coalesced in his palm. From that orb came a terrible beam, shooting at the ground just before him at a steep angle. Then the ray traveled fast, scourging the path between him and his foes. Where the beam touched, impaling spires sooned emerged, jutting out of the ground by the dozens, covering a six foot width, and reaching five feet in height. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda and Constanze both leaped out of the way. The latter went left, the former right. The Fae just behind them at the edge of the arena also parted, for the beam was quite indiscriminate, and the attendees had no desire to be skewered. Shrieks and screams filled the air, and Maxwell almost shouted out to his friend. He had seen the vampire unleash his bestial urges in pieces, but never against fellow members of the order, trial or not. Maxwell’s heart raced, his breathing quickened. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Four minutes ten seconds…. It’s not even been a bloody minute!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As much as Maxwell may have feared for them, Amanda and Constanze couldn’t turn back now. Their dodges may have separated them, but it also separated Asgall’s ability to occupy them both; so they thought. It would hopefully play right in their hands. Amanda performed an admirably landed combat roll while Constanze had more or less dolphin dived as far away as she could. They spied one another from between the spaces in the spikes. No words were exchanged, but they read each other's expressions. They agreed on one thing: Rule number two, never let a vampire control the flow of battle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe that rule was better applied to normal vampires in normal scenarios; Constanze herself had said this wasn’t meant to simulate fighting vampires, but she couldn’t deny that a purely evasive and defensive game plan wasn’t going to last them for four more minutes. They had to bite back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ever the aggressor though, Asgall bounded toward Constanze. He recognized her as the least likely to be able to defend herself up close, given her lack of knowledge in close quarters combat, let alone a melee weapon with which to block his strikes. The sisters needed to act fast and think faster. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze, still prone at the spot where she landed from the dive, assembled her blasterfully and fired off two slugs of high powered magical energy. At the same time, Amanda ran toward the rift and propelled herself high into the air with a phos spell, waiting for the opening that she hoped Constanze would create to swoop in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze’s aim was good, but Asgall wasn’t an easy target. The first flew wide to his right as he strafed to dodge it, but the second struck true on his left knee, crippling his sprint. With all of that speed behind him, Asgall clattered in a mesys tangle of limbs, broken claws, teeth, and spikes from all about his body. He skid to a halt on the floor just a few feet from Constanze, and despite having likely broken enough bones to kill almost anything else, his limbs moved all the same. Everything was cracking and molding itself back into place while he reached out to grab Constanze’s legs with one of his claws. She tried to shoot it away, but her slugs did not deter him. Pieces of bone and dead flesh were blasted apart, but the claw kept flailing to snatch her as Asgalls entire spine realigned, and his hip swivelled back around a full one eighty degrees to correct the misalignment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This was the opening Amanda had been waiting for: She was up high, above twenty feet or so, and just about to start falling. She leveled her daggered gauntlet at Asgall’s back and sent her shot soaring toward him, the force of the mechanism firing causing her to bounce back a few inches in the air. The dagger landed smack dab in the center of his prying claw, pinning it to the ground. His head snapped to attention from Constanze to Amanda, allowing the former to scramble away. The firebrand witch was coming straight toward him at high speed! Her sword was aimed to thrust down into his backside, but she had gravely miscalculated. With a grunt and growl of effort, Asgall’s back, covered in the thick, protruding horns and spikes of bone, bulged with even more growths of calcium aimed to puncture and protect. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda’s eyes went wide; she’d be careening right into an early grave if she didn’t stop herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“PHOS! PHOS! PHOS!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She screamed the incants and shook her wand with all due force. Blasts of wind sent her back in the air, flipping in an uncontrolled ascent due to the force of her own spell, but it succeeded in dislodging the dagger, allowing it to recoil back into her gauntlet harmlessly. What wasn’t harmless was the landing. Amanda had to use more small bursts of Phos to correct her angle and trajectory to land on her feet and not her face.The stone was unforgiving. Her knees felt like they’d just been slammed by a sledgehammer; she was going to feel that in the morning. She staggered into a low crouch and steadied herself with her sword by embedding it in the ground. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Meanwhile, Asgall had pulled enough himself back together to rise up onto his feet, standing tall enough to be seen clearly over the rift of spikes by Amanda. She winced at the motion his jaw made when he snapped it back into place, for it seemed to be slack just moments ago. Amanda’s eyes looked past him: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Three minutes fifty seconds…. Ok…. Ok….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>They could do this. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With every moment passed, they drew closer to victory. But no damage they dealt seemed to stick., Even the sections of exposed bone and burnt flesh made by Constanze’s blaster didn’t stick. The witch-gineer was far and away now from Asgall, wanting to get as much distance as possible. She was on the northern end, facing the divide of blood-spikes that reached from one half of the arena to the other. On the left side was Amanda, and the right Asgall. Just moments after he had risen, Agsall was already looking to pressure Amanda further, and began to stride with calm fury toward the divide. Constanze took notice of his healing wounds and cursed to herself in German. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Bah! Isn’t fire and magic supposed to stop the regeneration!?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Clearly Asgall was different from typical vampires in more ways than they thought. The regeneration wasn’t immediate, but it wasn’t slow enough to leave him well and truly hindered for very long. His kneecap had wholly reformed, and flesh was already coating the bone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze considered her gear. Her bandoliers were full of different vials and throwables, but while they were certainly useful against so many different enemies, they all looked like playthings now that she’d seen just how much punishment Asgall could take. She had to try nonetheless. As Asgall began to tear through the rift of blood-spikes with his claws alone, ignoring the magical bolts of burning sent his way by Amanda, Constanze decided to throw all caution to the wind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She snatched off three of the improvised impact grenades, filled with various dangers. Constanze glanced over each of them once, tossing away two she deemed a useless, and keeping one. With a simple click of a button on the side of her blaster, the case fell away, clattering to the ground, leaving the wand in her hand. She focused her magicks into spells that amassed pressure at the tip of her casting tool, the one grenade point of focus, and then released the incant. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Propulia!”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall had just cracked through the barrier when the first grenade struck. It smashed open to reveal a large clump of salt-like dust that glimmered dazzlingly. The spray coincided with a firebolt from Amanda which began a chain reaction. The dust was in fact Elemental Ash, derived from the ground up remains of cores that gave elemental beings control over more shapely physical hosts; a flame elemental was the source of this powder. The results were unexpectedly explosive. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda had been backing up closer and closer to the edge of the ring when the blast came. She covered her face with both arms and nearly fell right back down; her knees were still weak from the impact. Asgall disappeared from the view of all present. His position was shrouded in black smoke reminiscent of volcanic emissions. Many Fae began to cough and sputter when the wind blew much of the cloud of their way. Silence otherwise overtook the soundscape. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell’s breathing halted. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Please let that be it…. Please.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze lifted her head up from the ducking position she instinctively got into when the explosion happened. Her movements were slow, careful, hesitant. She reached for her blaster frame, reassembled it, and breathed deep. She saw Amanda similarly collect herself and ready her swords. Neither of them trusted Asgall to go done so easily after all that he’d endured over the past minute. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were wise to stay on guard. </span>
  <b>“SHRRRRIIIEEEEEE!”</b>
  <span> From the black smoke, Asgall lept out like a pouncing tiger. He had Amanda in his sights. She may have been ready for an attack, but she wasn’t ready to handle this. His inner calm, the anchor that binded him to a human sense of sanity, had cracked, if only for the briefest of spells. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda created a hasty magical shield and crossed it about her sword just as Asgall impacted against her. He brought both of them to the floor, pinning Amanda with the weight of his body. He smashed his fists, stabbed his claws, and snapped his jaws at the shielding. He was bloody, full of little bits sof shrapnel, and some areas of his form were badly burnt, but fury never seemed to wane. Cracks immediately began to manifest in the barrier; Amanda was no barely even capable of such magicks. His claws and teeth broke through the first sign of damage, scratching and scraping Amanda’s face and arms. Her mind was filled with one word alone: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She needed help and fast, because Asgall seemed like he had almost lost himself to his vampiric hunger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze got down on one knee. She  brought her blasted to bare in one swift motion, leveled the sights. It wa shard to get a bead on him at first with how violently he was thrashing, but suddenly, he paused. His senses returned, and he began to breathe heavily, his claws trembling in the air, just as Amanda’s shield was about to shatter. Constanze didn’t hesitate. She pulled the trigger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BANG!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She fired it on the highest setting and struck Asgall right in the temple! It exited from the opposite side of his head, sending bone and brain to the air in a mist. Asgall’s body went rigid. His arms trembled and spasmed. His claws grew and shrank at alarming rates. He brought his hands up toward his head and turned slowly to face Constanze. When he felt the empty space where the slug had left its mark, Asgall fell forward onto Amanda, his head still locked in place, staring at Constanze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another wave of gasps, murmurs, and exclamations of surprise and shock rolled over the Fae crowd. None of them could believe it might end this way. Had they well and truly killed Asgall? Amanda wasn’t all too immediately concerned with that. She was more concerned with being rushed by a possible corpse; he weighed a ton! “A-A L-LITTLE…! HELP!” It was hard to breath as is under such pressure, but this took it a bit too far. Amanda’s sword wielding hand dropped the blade and reached out to beckon to Constanze who took a few moments to snap to attention. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Much like the Fae crowds, she couldn’t really believe what she saw; what she did. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Is it that easy?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She thought before shaking her head and making a break for Amanda. Once she got close she used her wand to exert all of the magical energy she could muster to telekinetically move Asgall off of Amanda. By the Nine was he heavy! A few moments passed amidst the struggle. Amanda used all of her body strength to help push until she was finally free and able to roll away, which she did with haste, gasping for breath. Asgall’s body flopped to the side, but even then, his head managed to land in such a way that his eyes were still locked onto Constanze and Amanda. His body occasionally twitched.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Guhh….! Jesus…. Is…? Are we…?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Breathe.” Constanze ordered, both to herself and to Amanda. She aided her downed sister to her feet and helped her crush a magic crystal; her hands overlaid over Amandas, allowing them to share in the energy that was released. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks….” Amanda panted until she felt at ease enough to speak clearly. “Is he dead…?” Their eyes settled on Asgall once more and saw him still twitching. The side of his skull had been blown wide open, revealing oozing grey-matter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Done.” Constanze hissed between deep breaths of her own. “He’s done.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda let her eyes drift to the floor. She picked her sword up just in case and made sure her wand was still on her person. Everything seemed in order, and while she was bleeding, none of her wounds were severe enough to make her worry. “Should we check?” How they would do that was beyond her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze looked between Amanda and the body. She noticed something moving; Asgall was on his stomach, so it was hard to see, but something was causing his chest to rise in erratic short bursts. It lifted him just a hair or so off of the ground every time it happened </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Breathing…?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Asgall may have been mutated beyond human physiology, but nothing could have lungs so powerful in a body of that size; it would be mechanically absurd to her. She opened her ears closely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tha-Thump….. Tha-Thump Tha-Thump…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A….” Constanze wasn’t sure if this made more or less. “Heart… beat?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frararanca prepared to call it, but Maxwell held his arm out before her. He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. “No.” He whispered. “He’s hardly done.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda looked to Constanze with a baffled expression. She shot her gaze over to the clock then: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Three minutes twenty…. nineteen…. eighteen… FUCK!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was still counting down. She squinted to focus on Asgall. There had to be something wrong here and—</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Oh my god….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>They were both going to be sick. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>THA-THUMP! THA-THUMP! THA-THUMP!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall’s body spasmed. It made gurgling and growling noises unlike anything natural. His heart was beating so violently that it was smashing against his ribcage. His biology defied all conventional explanations: There was only one way to kill an ascended vampire. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sight that sickened Amanda and Constanze lay in his bloodied head: His brain was </span>
  <em>
    <span>regenerating</span>
  </em>
  <span>. His cranium was filling up with some sort of black and crimson ooze; a gelatin of sorts. It created a perfect mold of the broken skull fragment only for it to turn bright white, then grey and purple as fresh skin formed over it. It was as though he hadn’t even been shot. His twitching turned to deliberate motion. He pushed himself off of his stomach and onto all fours, spitting up more of that sickly black and red ooze. Constanze and Amanda were reeling in disgust, and stayed their wands and blades. Asgall of course took notice and gurgled out something in a guttural, menacing tone. </span>
  <b>“If you’re holding back out of mercy...”</b>
  <span> Another retch of bile broke up his speech. He continued while rising back to his fully hunched height, his claws elongating ever further to be as thick and deadly as swords. </span>
  <b>“Then you have already failed.”</b>
  <span> In Asgall’s eyes, a being such as him could not be afforded such pleasantries. He had almost allowed himself to kill an innocent,, no, a comrade. He had deserved such a wound from Constanze, impermanent as it was. Still, he did not feel he could merely surrender or back down. The Bathorys would not offer them such mercy, and so he could not embody mercy. Instead, he took slow, plodding steps forward, planning his assault with terrible cunning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Conz?” Amanda backpedaled, bringing her sword to a mid-block position once more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm?” Constanze joined her sister in a slow retreat, still tending to her own wounds with light healing magicks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda eyed the clock: It read as three minutes and five seconds. “We’re barely past the second minute.” And yet they both felt exhausted. The crystals helped their magical reserves, but their bodies ached.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm….” Asgall was still approaching, and they’d run out of ring soon if Asgall didn’t come at them first. “We had a plan....” What sort of plan could have been prepared for something so quick? So seemingly unstoppable? So ferocious? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean…. We kinda kept to it.” Amanda checked her bandolier. She popped off one of the invigorating potions and spilled it all over her face in an attempt to drink it. It gave her a rush of desperately needed energy. She spilled the rest on Constanze who was similarly aided. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once Constanze had downed all of the liquid that managed to get in her mouth and otherwise shake off the rest, she spoke again. “Not intentionally. Forced. Playing his game. Not ours.” That needed to change, or else they wouldn’t survive the next clash by Constanze’s calculation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hastily, Amanda threw the glass bottle at Asgall who swatted it out of the air with a growl. “Ok…. So what now then?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Make stuff up as we go along?” Constanze sounded a lot less confident saying that this time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda was about to agree when she remembered the grenade Constanze had given her at the start. Something about oil; it gave her an idea. “No.” Constanze looked to Amanda, confused. “Follow my lead: I got a plan.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm mmmm….” Constanze grunted. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I trust you.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Is what she meant to imply. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“At least somebody does.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Amanda thought off the voices again as they surfaced. If only things could be any bit easier. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“No time to wish!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She surmised before stowing her wand away and rifling along her bandolier to snatch off the Draco-lich oil bomb. “You ready?” They had no room to back up anymore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze examined the grenade, nodded once, and whipped out a sort of magi-technical laser pointer: A high intensity UV light emitter. “Ready.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ready or not, Asgall was coming. His claws, having been gently raking across the stone floor, were suddenly held up toward them and ejected from his fingertips at high speeds. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>shooting</span>
  </em>
  <span> his own claws! Constanze and Amanda both ducked, going to ground to do so, and rolled away. “GO!” Amanda yelled as she came back to her feet and went on an offensive run on Asgall’s right flank; Constanze took the left flank.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell was breathing almost as heavy as they were now. He was chomping at the bit. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Forgemother Vaal, Jehanne, Lady of the Hunt, hear my plea: Keep them safe, keep them whole, keep them bound….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>On and on he repeated the “prayer” of sorts inside his head. Worship of the Nine as deific or otherwise spiritually significant persons was not terribly uncommon among the witching world, though Maxwell only ever slipped into such worship in times of great duress. The battle raged regardless. Prayer would comfort, but it would not change the outcome.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Back in the fray, Asgall had halted his advance and held his claws up at about chest height, regrowing the sharper bits back to a more “manageable” size. Meanwhile, his eyes darted between Constanze and Amanda. He would make no sudden movements, and instead allowed them to approach that he might counter their movements more directly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda came in hot; literally. Her arms had become alight with flame from a spell she muttered under her breath. She pushed her body to its limit for just a moment to reach top speed, and then she pushed herself harder with a phos spell. With her sword wielding arm she slashed horizontally to cut at Maxwell’s cranium, knowing well that even if it connected that it would do little but slow him down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as she planned, Asgall blocked the sword-swipe; their blade and claws grinding against each other. This allowed Amanda to thrust her other arm forward, throwing the impact grenade of Draco-lich oils directly at his chest. With them being so close, Asgall had no way to dodge it, and so it splashed all over him. Now he reeked of rotten plant matter. This hardly deterred him though, and so his counterattack was swift and brutal. With his right claw still blocking the blade, his left was brought to bear with Far-Lunar magicks. A gout of crimson lightning, unnatural, and unlike any other, coursed along his fingertips, off of his claw-like nails, and then into Amanda’s chest. She screamed in pain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The feeling was unlike any other before. Her skin bubbled where the bolts connected, her muscles tensed and untensed in a spastic rhytym. Her vision grew all too colorful, and she was forced back from the sheer weight of the magical attack. Her whole being vibrated as she hit the ground and tumbled a few meters away. Trembling was about all she could do as her mind struggled to make sense of what just hit her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze was still approaching. She had taken a wider vector of attack in order to give Amanda the space to strike first, but perhaps that was an error. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Verdammt!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She would follow up with the plan nonetheless. She had to buy as much time for Amanda to recover and possibly salvage the situation. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Frezaria!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She came in with her wand ready, cast a freezing spell at Asgalls’ legs, holding him in place for the moment, and then switched on the UV light to the highest setting. Asgall turned his head at the sound of the spell being cast, only to get an eye full of intense light not dissimilar to that of the sun. The little laser pointer was terribly bright, so much so that even the crowds of Fae who looked into it were briefly blinded. They all ducked their heads or covered their eyes while Asgall screeched so loud that Cnstanze could almost hear his vocal chords tearing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“SSSSHRAAAAAAAAAH!” </b>
  <span>It wasn’t the light of the true sun, and thus it would not kill him, but similar lights were still very dangerous to most vampires. It caused immense pain and crippled their senses. Asgall was effectively blind so long as Constanze kept it pointed at his face. He tried desperately to cover himself with his claws, but Constanze blasted them away with bolts of magical energy over and over again, forcing him to bear the brunt of the beam. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From her grounded position, Amanda took about ten more seconds to get a hold of herself and realize what she was seeing. Constanze had him pinned! But it wouldn’t forever. He had broken out of his icy shackles by sheer brute force, sending shards of melting ice everywhere. He thrashed his claws about and tried to spin around frantically, acting on some base instinct to avoid the light rather than on any logical tactic. Constanze took full advantage and continued to circle him, ensuring he wouldn’t feel safe. It wasn’t easy though: She was forced to dodge and cast warding spells of various sorts just to keep him from running into her with furious swipes. She threw down caltrops, conjured rock walls, kine barriers, cast the only true befuddlement hex she knew to make Asgall lose his hearing to a deafening white noise that only he could hear, but it still wasn’t enough. She was unwittingly being cornered in the back left of the arena. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Gotta…. Gotta….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>What was Amanda supposed to do? Everything was spinning and flashing with not-right colors. With shaking palms, she managed to steady herself on all fours. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Conz…. Gotta…. Oil…. RIGHT!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Everything clicked back into place soon enough. She reignited her arms, grabbed her sword and wand, and leveled her daggered-gauntlet at Asgall; no time to run, better to fly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Aim it right…. Watch the back….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Asgall suddenly spun around, revealing his unbladed side. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“THERE!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Click! CLICKCLICKLCLICKCLICK!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The dagger struck true! Amanda was away! She cut the very air, thrusting forth with such speed that Asgall couldn’t have hoped to stop it now. Her sword embedded itself deep in his side as his claws were raised high to swipe down on a cornered Constanze. The blade itself entered in one armpit and exited from the other, effectively locking his arms in place as far as vertical movement went. That was merely a lucky hit. The real intention of her attack lay in her flaming hands. She wrapped them tight around Asgall’s oil soaked body. With grit teeth, she grunted, willing the fire to roar hotter and larger, engulfing her being for just a moment’s time. In an instant, Asgall’s form was wholly ablaze, and unlike Amanda, he had no magical protections or control over the fire’s effect.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“HRRRRAAAAAH!”</b>
  <span> Asgall roared in defiance, claws still raised high in the air. With a furious fit of movement, he managed to shake Amanda off of him, dashing her to the ground just behind and beside him, taking the sword with her. His arms were now free, and Constanze, defiant and stalwart, had kept the beam on him throughout the struggle. She hadn’t considered that Asgall would </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> be able to keep fighting, though he was less fighting in that moment and more flailing. His movements were more erratic than ever, and by sheer chance, a heavy backhand struck Constanze across the head. She  was sent to the floor like a sack of bricks. Her helmet saved her from a serious trauma, but not from immediate unconsciousness, or from a concussion. That left Amanda all on her own, though she liked her odds nonetheless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Two minutes two seconds….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>It wouldn’t be long now. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Might not even need that</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She spoke too soon. Asgall was engulfed in flames, cut open at the armpits, and reeling from blindness, but these maddened flails weren’t death throes or signs of yielding. It was wild, frantic, but not desperate. Sure enough, before Amanda’s eyes, she saw that once Asgall was free of the instinctual fear that came with the presence of the light in his eyes, he was able to muster some of magicks to his aide. A coat of shifting liquids, more of the crimson and black ooze, began to sprout from the decayed portions of his body alongside the fresh wound. It seeped out amidst his more controlled flails and darted over his body, covering the burning areas and snuffing out the flames before cracking and falling away. Charred bones and flesh remained where the fire once was. It wasn’t a quick process, but it was much faster than Amanda would like.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Sonuvva….” Amanda muttered to herself breathlessly as she pulled back and gathered her footing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“How the fuck do you stop him!?”</span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda couldn't say, but what she knew for certain was that once their fire gimmick had worn off, Asgall would be fighting just as hard as before. If he could survive a destroyed brain, he could survive this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Now isolated, what hope did Amanda have? The voices swelled. Her inadequacy was laid bare for her in litanies upon litanies of words that streamed through her mind. She almost snapped her wand in half from how tightly she was holding it. Only two words were able to pierce the wall of noise and bring reason to her action: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Fuck it!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> There was no use thinking anymore. The time for thinking had passed.She’d follow Maxwell’s advice: Never give a vampire a chance to breathe. Damn the consequences! Damn the danger! Just attack! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Heat rose around her! The air became wavy! The fire within poked and prodded! It wanted out! Amanda’s flamingo hair waved in the wind. Tiny embers blew away from the frayed ends of her spiked-do. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall had just then freed himself from the worst of the flames. Little fires lapped at his wrists and various parts of chest and legs, but most of it had been snuffed by the now flaking ooze. His pupils dilated and undilated in horrible patterns as he readjusted to the darkness, and his ears slowly became useful once more as Constanze’s white noise hex wore off. He shot his head around, baring his fangs down hard, only to see Amanda’s blade, wielded in both hands, within mere inches of striking him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clang! Clang! CLANG!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two clashed thrice. On the third strike, the sound of their weapons rang out over the mountains and down into the valleys. Asgall had spun about and deflected each of Amanda’s blows save the last which was caught between his claws.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two were locked in a bind, both refusing to yield the advantage, knowing that either could counterattack quickly should it be broken hastily. Amanda’s gaze met Asgall’s, and all was quiet for a moment or two, save for the grinding of claw on steel. Then they both made their play:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda eased up on her sword with one hand so that she could go to draw her wand with the other. She’d use a spell to implode the space right in front of them both. Surely it would wound her more than him, but if it gave the stirring but dazed Constanze time to rise, then it would be worth it. As long as one of them was left standing and conscious, they wouldn’t lose the trial.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Simultaneously, Asgall stepped forward with his right foot and angled his clawed-leg to wrap around Amanda’s left leg. He’d bring her to her knees and end this by sheer weight of force. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, Asgall’s plan won out in the end. Amanda had been able to retrieve her wand, but she wasn’t faster than Asgall, not by a long shot. Her wand surged with fiery magicks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“ARS</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
  <span> But she couldn’t finish the incantation before Asgall’s leg-hook tripped her up. Now lacking a free hand with which to stabilize her clashing sword, the bind broke down in Asgalls favor, ending with him slashing straight down across Amanda’s chest with the outward edge of his claws, tearing through the armor and marring the flesh beneath. Amanda howled in pain and hit the floor with a thud. Her sword clattered off to the side as her hands were brought instinctively inward to hold the pained area. Mercifully, Asgall had minded the deepness of the cut, ensuring only to bleed her in such a manner that could be healed with his magicks. He may have allowed his bestial vampiric instincts to take partial hold, but he refused to lose himself further to the throes of blood; the madness of the thirst. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The crowd gasped collectively at the sight. Asgall was stood over the defeated Amanda, seeming only mildly phased by the damages done to his body. Amanda clutched at her open wounds soundless screams, her mouth agape in pain, her eyes shut tight. Asgall quirked his head, examining the damage with a clinical eye, one that masked the hunger lingering in his crimson irises. </span>
  <b>“Do you yield?”</b>
  <span> Every sensible word demanded his absolute attention to utter. Speech was difficult for him in this state, let alone stillness before a bleeding being.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda could not respond. Not directly. Instead, she responded with a spell. Her wand wielding hand jutted upwards, stiff as a board from the shock her body was experiencing, and from it came a gout of unrestrained flames; queerly pink and orange in coloration. Asgall hissed and recoiled his upper body back, but otherwise did not retreat. Mere flames were not enough to hold him at bay. His left claw called forth a barrier of black and crimson partially formed from Amanda’s own blood. The sanguine shield deflected the flames from singing anymore of his body. Only when the fire began to bounce back in Amanda’s direction, burning her hand and arm, did she stop. Her arm fell slack against the ground. Amanda had fight in her yet, and she had potions and magical crystals to fall back on for more energy, but she was in no position to use either. When her flames receded, so did Asgall’s shield, though he did not retract the hand. Instead, the energies that formed the shield coalesced into a semi-solid blade that emerged from a wound in his palm. It extended out and pressed itself against Amanda’s neck, effectively pinning her in place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Silence came again. Maxwell almost bled his lip in biting down so hard on it. He looked to Constanze, holding his breath. The witch-smith to be stirred, but did not rise. Amanda had bought a few seconds more, but just that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall turned and watched Constanze struggle for ten seconds more. He caught sight of her eyes opening, but even when she was clearly awake, she could not force her body to move; her dizzied brain hadn’t the means to in that state. Asgall sighed deeply, closed his eyes, and slowly began to shrink in size. His form began to change back into something more human-like. Amidst the change, he opened his eyes again,revealing tiny crimson irises, and spoke in his more typical gravelly voice. “The time, Frararanca?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Sylph didn’t want to look at her Spritely friends. She already knew they had failed. Nevertheless, a time had to be given. With a deep sigh of her own, Frararanca spoke. “One minute and twelve seconds remaining….” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm….” Asgall shook his head. “Maxwell. Time?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell reluctantly looked down at his wristwatch. “Aye…. One minute twelve….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So it goes.” The blade against Amanda’s neck disappeared into a cloud of crimson particles, blowing away in the wind. He did not know what else to say as his eyes slowly drifted between Amanda and Constanze. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“They fought well.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He couldn’t deny that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“God damnit….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda could though. Her body was outwardly motionless, save for the rising and falling of her chest. She had lost, but the heat remained. Embers still drifted from her hair without her knowledge. She didn’t even realize how hot she was to the touch, having blamed it on her magic, just as Asgall did. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s over….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Amanda closed her eyes. Her hands had dropped anything they were holding, only to quickly ball up into fists. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I fucked it all up….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her plan led to nothing but her defeat from her perspective. The voices made it so very clear to her that this was </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> her fault. She couldn’t fight anymore. Physically she could, but the battle was over, and where a younger her may have been petulant and struck out at Asgall just to get the last laugh, she was too aware of her own being to partake in such behavior. She could only stew and simmer and broil. Her time to blaze would come, but for now, she would smoulder; so the fire within receded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall, and all else was silent. He thought himself a kind man, reformed from his more hedonistic and flighty ways, but those aspects were now at odds. He was too principled to allow Amanda and Constanze to simply win what they have not earned, and he was too merciful himself to merely brush this defeat aside as anything but a downright depressing ordeal. He saw Maxwell in the crowd, now staring at him with heavy eyes; judgemental and disappointed. Asgall looked down to Amanda once more, then to Constanze. Some Fae were aiding the latter, and while the former wasn’t as helpless, both were still thoroughly wounded. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Perhaps I was out of line to demand this….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> They were but initiates, and he had tasked them with something that even some veteran members, such as Maxwell in his prime, would have struggled with. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“And struggle they did.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Admirably so. To last just about four minutes was no small feat. Still, the clashing principles remained. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall stepped away from Amanda, knelt down, and offered a claw to help her up. She rejected it, turning away to hide her scowl. Her anger was self directed of course, as was her sorrow. Asgall sighed and slowly rose once more. “Let us return to the hold…. We may speak on the next step come the mor—” Asgall’s ears twitched. His casually hunched posture became immediately upright. None took notice save Maxwell, but even he didn’t know what was going through Asgall’s head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><em><span>“Wingbeats.”</span></em><span> Asgall thought to himself. </span><em><span>“A dozen pairs. No. Thirteen, but one is different.” </span></em><span>He heard the hum of a giant swarm of insects, or one very big insect.</span> <span>His head darted around frantically, searching for the source.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell cautiously approached. “Asgall?” He was met only by a singular claw raised, commanding his silence. Maxwell’s eyes went wide. His hard eyes softened. Fear began to take over. Not because Maxwell had reason to feel as such yet, but because some unnatural dread, a miasma of negative energies, filled the air. “Hmm?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shh.” Asgall warned. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“South? South west.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Asgall turned where the noises came from and looked on at the pitch black sky. To someone unlike him, a non-vampire, they would see merely the darkness, and what appeared to be the motions of some distant black birds; one white. Asgall could see it all too clearly though: Riders on black, winged horses, given life by necromantic means. The riders were deathly pale, their bodies armored. Two floating figures flanked them, one on either side of the V-shaped squadron; one in black, one in white. Asgall swore aloud in Aramaic before darting his eyes back to Maxwell. “We are not alone!” He yelled  for all to hear. Everyone fell silent and turned their heads to Asgall. The Fae and monsters of magic could sense it. The air was wrong to them. There was an uneasy heaviness about the place now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda’s eyes shot open. She too felt the malaise of hate and anger on the wind. It reminded her of that day where she first confronted that “bug-eyed bitch.” She was quick to push herself off of the ground and into a sitting position despite the aching she felt all over. The blue flamed braziers that marked all four corners of the arena danzed, threatening to be snuffed out by some unseen force. Something wicked this way came. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you’re certain these are the ones we seek?” Will could sense the hotspot of magic long before they arrived, but the beacon of lightning had given them a clear direction to travel toward. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t waste my time with pointless questions!” Nikolai bristled. He, his soldiers, and the Fates were homing in on the distant mountaintop marked by four blue braziers. It didn’t matter if these weren’t the witches they sought. Nikolai would hunt them all down until he found their mark. What were a few more corpses to those who had slain scores already? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will wasn’t concerned much with the death count of course, and more so with the sensitivity of time. These small victories, the deaths of random witches and associates, they did little to sate her vengeful desires. Nothing but the absolute completion of their mission would bring anything but the slightest pang of suppressed emotion. Thus, she didn’t even deign to respond to Nikolai. There was no redirecting a man such as he: Caught in the whims of his own delusions. “Chaos.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Crkrkrk?” Meaningless chittering was the only response Chaos gave; a sign of plain acknowledgement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you see?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos turned her head from Will as they flew through the air. Chaos’ hundreds of eyes focused on the beings present on the plateau. They were all looking at Nikolai, The Fates, and the accompanying vampire elites. They formed a sort of square circle around some kind of mildly damaged arena with three figures in the center. “Fae…. Fae and beasts of all kinds. This T’would explain the magic in the air…. This could get ugly.” Her mandibles clacked out. “But I see three humans as well…. No….” Her eyes focused on a hulking purple-grey man with bat-like features. “Two humans, and one parasite….” She couldn’t make out much of the details though, leaving their identities as a temporary mystery.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai scoffed at the term. His own enhanced eyesight allowed him to peer through the darkness, though not with clarity. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It has been long since I fought another, gifted such as I….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He already knew that a fight with another vampire would be a disappointment, and yet he knew so little of what was to come. “We shall rout them all the same! To arms men! Draw your blades! Bear your fangs!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elite vampire warriors heeded their lord eagerly. Halberds, axes, maces, swords; no weapon remained in its sheath, for there was blood to spill in Bathory’s name! “FOR OUR HONOURED BLOODLINE!” Their battlecry rang out distantly to their nearby foes. Their roar alone was enough to cow a few of the most timid beings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will leered. “Chaos.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What now?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do as you did before: Dominate the weak willed ones.” The Witch in White brought psychic-magical energies to her hands. The power swelled as two bright white orbs. “Kill the rest.” Now was the chance for them to act more directly, rather than from the sidelines.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos’s wings buzzed louder and louder. Her eyes turned toward their foes. A strange, tendril-like tongue emerged from between her mandibles and licked the serrated edges. “With pleasure!” She had built up enough rage in the past few days to last a lifetime. She needed a proper excuse to take it out on something. Given their enemies were predominantly Fae, so long as she and Will watched where they blasted and casted, they could wreak havoc unimpeded. The witches of course would have to be left to the vampires; a bitter concession, as always. The souls with Chaos hated this concession the most. They demanded release.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Many smaller, especially winged Fae and creatures began to scatter. All of Frararancas’ Spritely pals chose the better part of valor, and none could blame them. The Sylph remained stalwart however, not because she was particularly brave, but because she felt confident that she could knock these lecherous interlopers right out of the sky before they ever became a problem. They were about forty seconds away from making landfall; plenty of time for “bad weather” to deter them. Frararanca fluttered over with haste to Maxwell, Asgall, and Amanda’s side, who were similarly joined by the Wyvern, some brave Goblins, the grove of Spriggans, and various other braver beings. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll</span>
  </em>
  <span> handle this! Watch and learn!” She was at the forefront of the crowd now, and none deemed it necessary to stop her. If anything, Amanda was hopefully that these freaks, if it's who she thought they were, would get blown out easy. Asgall and Maxwell hoped for the same, but the former doubted it would be that simple.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frararanca took a deep breath. Her arms were held out before her, palms to the wind. She twisted her arms upside down and then right side up, attuning herself to the winds of the peaks. Air sigils formed at her fingertips, and she smiled impishly; though it would be unwise to suggest that a wild Fae was </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> like an Imp to their face. “Time for some turbulence!” Her jaunty tone juxtaposed the awful yawning of the wind that bellowed up from the valleys below; the sound of a distant tornado, or a hurricane. A sort of localized storm of discordant winds, whipping every which way, took shape around where the encroaching riders flew. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Immediately, Nikolai and his men were beset. The horses, while undead, held some semblance of lively instinct. Many bucked and whinnied in dismay just at the sound, and when the actual force of the winds affected them, many were caught up in a chaotic typhoon, spinning the riders and their mounts round and round. Nikolai himself was caught in one of their terrible swirling prisons of air, but the Fates would suffer no defeat to come so easily. Both came to a halt in the air, nearly blown away in a similar manner, but were allowed to escape due to their means of flight and light weight proving more aerodynamic. Once outside of the storm, they both channeled a powerful counterspell, a more complex form of the Luna Lana spell: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Luna Lanaria Al-Lerra!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>From each of their hands came two beams of yellow light, swirled by black lines of electric energy. So powerful was the force of their beams that it shunted them back in the air, applying constant pressure. And unlike a typical counterspell, it was not directed at the affected area where Nikolai and company were held up, but at the caster herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Too late did Frararanca realize that she had been targeted. Her eyes went wide when the beams washed over her, disappearing her form beneath the flow of magic. Her near allies dispersed in yelps of astonishment. “FRANKIE!” Amanda yelled and reached out, but Asgall and Maxwell pulled her back. In the distance, the storms faded, the beam ceased, and with the Fates to aid them, the vampires were saved from deathly falls and brought back to their horses. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mercifully, Frararanca yet lived when the magic faded. However, she couldn’t fly. She fell to the ground curled up in the fetal position. Her very connection to magic was being interfered with by the silencing effect of the spell. For Fae, it made them woefully dizzy, afraid, and generally in pain. A few of her Faerie companions scooped her up and ferried her off and away to tend to her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall cursed under his breath. His body bristled once more, this time with genuine rage. </span>
  <b>“SCATTER OR SKIRMISH! HOLD THEM OFF!”</b>
  <span> His worst suspicions had been proven true: This problem wouldn’t be solved easily, and worse, he had no doubt now that the Bathorys agents had come, with the wyrd witches in tow, for their magic was powerful, and their appearances strange. </span>
  <b>“THOSE WHO WOULD FIGHT: WITH ME!”</b>
  <span> His bestial tone returned, but even if it sounded unnatural, his call spurred the Fae who remained to action. Asgall held his claws high, and began to conjure his far flung magicks while floating Fae zipped past him to harry the attackers. The goblins and spriggans formed a front line mob of sorts alongside a few trolls and specters. The wyvern took to the air, screeching its displeasure to the heavens while the Hagstones tore up the earth beneath them, conjuring up new bodies of stone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda went to join the front most group, but she stopped herself and turned to Maxwell who had begun to prepare some sort of spell from his staff. “WAIT! Where’s conz!?” They didn’t have time for questions. The bathorys were screaming closer, and the aerial clash would occur within moments. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I….” Maxwell stuttered, looked around, and pointed to a group of Faeries from a nearby grove tending to her wounds with all due haste. Frararanca was beside her, and being similarly treated. They were panicked, scared, but doing all they could to get the dazed Constanze back to some state of normalcy. “There!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda hurried on over to make sure Constanze was alright, sprinting through the pain, leaving Maxwell with the rest of the group. He tried to join her, but his legs weren’t what they used to be, and the sound of screams, roars, and magical blasts from behind him drew his attention. Upon turning around, he saw that the battle had begun in earnest:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The knights vampiric and the flying Fae collided. Not in the literal sense, save with the Wyvern that tackled one of the elites straight from his steeds and into the air with its maw alone. Instead, the knights brought their weapons forth and slashed around at the flying beings, cutting down the occasional Faerie or Pixie that hadn’t been swift enough. Upon death, their bodies poofed into magical dust that dissipated in the wind. Little blasts, hexes, and transfiguration spells of all kinds harried the vampires. One of their Dread-steeds was turned into a wooden horse, and only by way of his enhanced physiology was he able to leap to the plateau below.  Another vampire had his helmet turned to a bucket, blinding his path, allowing many other Fae to steer his Dread-steed down toward the valley by jerking on the reigns and peppering the knight with pestering blasts. Many more simply washed past the screen of flighty Fae and joined the fray with Nikolai at the helm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The honoured son of Bathory lept from his steed with a furious cry. His attending warriors shouted to the sky as they joined their lord: “NIGHT HAS FALLEN!” Immediately upon landing, many rolled, or immediately started into a sprint toward the Fae foe. Nikolai was quick to behead two poor goblins with one swipe of his sword, and when another ran up by his side and struck him upside the head with a hoe of all things, he quickly returned the favor with his claw. By the sheer force of his punch, Nikolai cracked the goblin’s face in, laying him out flat in a singular motion. One elite vampire was able to axe apart a spriggan in two quick motions only to be grabbed and dragged to the floor by the others. One troll was lucky enough to squish a knight under a club he wielded, but it wasn’t enough to finish him off, and he quickly found himself stabbed repeatedly by two spear wielding knights. The initial melee was a bloody affair indeed. The Fae may have outnumbered the Vampires heavily, but they were outclassed beyond belief. Any victories they made were quickly turned against them from the sheer strength and speed of their opponents; pitchforks, clubs, and fists could do little against hardened steel and regenerating flesh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Meanwhile, Chaos kept back for now. She had clear orders, and enjoyed the prospect of enacting this betrayal greatly: She began to incant the words of a subjugating spell, the kind she used to enslave the maddened wills of the other Fae the Bathorys now employed. She would turn the Wyvern with a mouthful of stabbing and flailing knight first, then the rest, one by one.  On the other hand, Will pressed on above the fray. She swatted away several pixies with backhanded motions that sent immense waves of kinetic energy their way, shooting them off into the air like bright little bullets. She would lay into the battle more heavily, but she sensed something strange among the defenders. Her eyes fixated on Asgall who had been chanting in Far-Lunar tongue behind the front line engagement among the Hagstone golems and some disparate Fae. He was staring dead on at Will. A great ball of crimson and black energies swirled above his head where his claws held it aloft. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Is that not a vampire?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Chaos had identified him as a “parasite,” yet he wielded magic. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Is that power he wields eld?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>It certainly </span>
  <em>
    <span>felt</span>
  </em>
  <span> eld, but no, this wasn’t anything like she’d known from the Pursuer. While eld magic took </span>
  <em>
    <span>many</span>
  </em>
  <span> forms, this was not a kind she had seen. Even so, she had no time to ponder on its greater nature, for Asgall would demonstrate his power directly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“JIUR’HRA’HRAAK!”</b>
  <span> The final words of Asgall’s spell rang out over the din of battle as a massive laser of concentrated magic drawn from the distant moon shot out toward Will. The Fate witch’s eyes widened. She was quick to dart out of the way, but the beam continued and tracked her movements even. She couldn’t outrun it, surprisingly enough, so she would have to counteract it with eld magicks of her own. Will detested the very power she would wield then, but all was a means to a greater end. She came to a sudden halt, winded her left arm back, and shot it forward as a beam of transcendentally bright white light burst from her fingertips. The beams collided in an aurora of power that lit the otherwise dark battlefield up like nothing else. The two powerful sorcerers would constantly struggle for supremacy of a veritable tug of war throughout the affair while the battle continued. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda had been shaking Constanze by the shoulders when the aurora brightened the sky in a haze of white and red. She turned over her shoulders and swore aloud. “FUCK! Conz!” She looked back to the groaning, somewhat cognizant Constanze. “Conz come on! Get up! Get the fuck up! This ain’t no time to sleep!” Without thinking, Amanda slapped Constanze, grabbed one of the various potions she had, and forced her to drink it whole before slapping her again. On the second slap, she was repaid by Constanze with a slap of her own, followed by coughing from her sister. “OW!” She forgot just how hard Constanze could hit when she really wanted to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A-Amanda!? W-Wha…. You’re gonna—” Constanze was more present now, but that opened her up to the many problems that now plagued them. She hadn’t realized just how loud some of the Fae were screaming until then. Were those vampires? The Bathorys were here? </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Mein gott! What happened!?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She blinked frantically and looked about with plain confusion. “What happ—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“NO TIME!” Amanda recovered fast from the slap, though her cheek was now bright red. She forced Constanze to her feet with the aid of the Pixies before shoving her blaster into her hands. “Come on! We gotta help!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“M-Mmm!” Both Constanze and Amanda were feeling emotional whiplash. They’d just suffered a crushing defeat, but the bombastic nature of the sudden battle washed everything away. They ran together back toward fighting, finding Maxwell and the Hagstones lending their magical power to Asgall to aid in his duel of raw magical strength against Will. For the moment they ignored that aspect of the fight. The vampires were the more immediate threat; or so they thought. Amanda leveled her wand on the same vampire that Constanze had in her immediate sights, but they hesitated, if only because the Wyvern was about to swoop in and—No. No it wasn’t. It wasn’t aiming to attack the vampire at all. It’s eyes were ablaze with a red mist. “DUCK!” Constanze shouted as she went low. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda went to ground instinctively as the maddened Wyvern passed over them, having tried to bite their very heads off. It may have missed the witches, but one of the spriggans was taken up in its mouth in their place and brought out over the steep edge of the mountain only to be dropped to an untimely mulching. Amanda watched it fly off and smacked the ground with her wand wielding hand. “YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Amanda!” Constanze disassembled her blaster from the ground as quickly as she could and pointed her wand at her sister.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh!?” Amanda turned around to see a troll about to pound her to dust with both fists. “SHIT!” She could only cover her head and shut her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Frezaria! Frezaria!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze froze the troll solid in a wave of ice magick, turning him into a very angry statue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda peaked one eye open and then scrambled to her feet. Constanze joined her, and they could clearly see that within mere moments that the fight was devolving into absolute chaos. True to her name, the Witch in Black cackled and howled in amusement from on high. Amanda whipped her wand up and prepared to fire off some kind of spell, but Constanze urged her arm down. “Mmm!” She beckoned with her head back toward Asgall. “Mmm-mmm!” They needed to fallback. This fight was lost before it began. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda sighed. She lowered her wand after a moment’s hesitation and nodded. “Alright, fine! Let’s go!” Both sisters turned on their heels and ducked and weaved through the merciless melee. Brother had been turned against brother as goblins stabbed and thwacked each other in a frenzy. Faerie tins pulled at each other's hair and cast violent spells all about, sundering earth and flesh. The vampires savaged the lot all the while. One caught sight of the fleeing witches and sought to pursue. His battle cry alerted them to his approach though, and so Amanda was able to turn about and meet his sword with her own while Constanze continued. Sparks flew off of their weapons upon clashing as the vampire struck twice vertically. Amanda blocked both blows consecutively before hopping back to avoid a thrust. With distance between them, Amanda used her wand to shoot out a hasty burst of flame that caught on the knights cape and flesh. He shrieked and screamed in pain, but was mostly stunned by the attack rather than mortally wounded by it. It gave Amanda enough time to join her sister beside Asgall, who upon arrival decided to end this folly of a duel. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He and Will were matched in the latter’s slight favor, but Asgall didn’t have the near infinite reserves that Will had. Asgall was relying on the aid of his comrades, and this wouldn’t last. He sent one vital surge with a hissing roar, allowing his beam to overpower Will’s for just a moment before fizzling out into nothing. The resulting backblast sent Will hurling through the air, dizzied by the force. She plummeted down below the valley, blinded by the light and haze. Asgall would be breathing heavily had he a need for air at all; his spirit silently burned from exertion. Amanda’s and Constanze’s faces said enough of what was going on around him, and Maxwell was taken aback enough to state the obvious now that he too was focusing on the greater picture. “By the Nine! They’ve turned on one another!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Asgall was about to speak with the sound of churning stone from behind him brought the whole group's attention to a Hagstone golem whose holed face began to glow red. The other golem instinctively sought to restrain their kin-stone and tackled the other back, forcing Asgall and company to all run for cover so as not to be trampled.</span>
  <b> “These are the witches you spoke of!?”</b>
  <span> Asgall asked with his claws raised in a battle ready stance once they were a “safer” distance from the thickest of the fighting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda and Constponze both shot off a few spells, mostly aimed at incapacitating the mind controlled Fae and monsters. The former spoke through incants. “Yeah! That’s the bug eyed freak I was talking about!” She gestured with her sword to Chaos. The mutated witch was pursuing a small group of fleeing Fae through their air, having lost herself to the insanity of battle and bloodlust. She snatched up one in her mandibles and proceeded to devour it whole before zapping another as though it were mosquito. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Does it matter!?” Maxwell cried. “We can’t stay here!” He already gathered up the two brooms and held them along with his staff. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re just gonna abandon everyone!?” Amanda retorted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No choice!” Constanze chided before relieving one prospective vampire of his right arm on the approach, having landed a slug right in the chink where the pauldron gave way to shoulder. Asgall finished the knight off with a bloody spike to the helmet. “Too dangerous now!” Maybe Asgall and them could kill off all of the vampires, but what of the Fae, and the wyrd sisters? One was still stunned far and away, but surely they could summon more mind controlled slaves to the area. They’d be overrun eventually. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“I shall hold them here!”</b>
  <span> Asgall declared. “Take them and go, Maxwell! Return to the hold!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What then!?” Asked Maxwell as he mounted his broom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall would have responded immediately, but the screeching noise of the Wyvern’s approach drew his attention. He tried to knock it down from the sky with Amanda and Constanze’s aid, but the proud creature would not yield. Fortunately, it was gunning for the vampire among the four, and so Asgall stepped forward and caught the winged reptilian by the upper and lower jaw with his claws, keeping it open by sheer strength alone. Even still, it was enough to strain his speech. </span>
  <b>“RETRIEVE…! DYRNWYN…! CARNWENNAN...! GO! FLEE!” </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda felt a stab in her heart, but she couldn't afford to hesitate yet. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“ARS IMPLODERA!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>An implosion blasted just above the Wyvern's head, knocking it firmly unconscious just from the concussive force of the blast. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It gave Asgall a reprieve and let him toss the Wyvern aside a few feet, grunting with effort. Finally, they had been given the briefest of reprieves from the madness that raged nearby. </span>
  <b>“You must go! You must go and take Dyrnwyn and Carnwennan far from here!”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda felt like a failure even more knowing she had to leave. They weren’t strong enough to beat Asgall, and they weren't even strong enough to </span>
  <em>
    <span>help him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And now he was demanding they retrieve Dyrnwyn and Carnwennan anyway? “But we don’t—!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall knew what Amanda was about to argue and cut her off quick. </span>
  <b>“Trial or no, the blades must be saved! You will need them!” </b>
  <span>Her and Asgall were so caught up in arguing already that they failed to notice that Constanze had frozen solid. Not literally, but her eyes were fixed on something distant. Her hands trembled. Her brow was knit tight. Her knuckles whitened with rage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell shook Constanze gently only the shoulder, earning no response. “A-Amanda…! Asgall!” He tried to warn them, but was ignored. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We can’t even for—!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“Constanze will learn! She will smith them anew!”</b>
  <span> Asgall grew tired of this debate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze ran. She ran and she shot and she couldn’t be stopped. Maxwell tried to reach out and grab her, but missed. “A-About Constanze! She’s—” Maxwell was interrupted by Amanda. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We lost—!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“SIIIILENCE!”</b>
  <span> Asgall’s bellow shut Amanda up. He pointed toward Maxwell and the free-floating broom that awaited Amanda and Constanze.</span>
  <b> “GO!” </b>
  <span>He could sound no more desperate than he already did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“BOTH OF YOU!” Maxwell shouted, earning sideways glances from both of them. “CONSTANZE RAN OFF!” Both Asgall and Amanda darted their gazes about, fending off minor attacks from various enslaved Fae while doing so. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda caught sight of her sister sprinting through the carnage after a few moments. “She’s over—!” Amanda felt her heart sink when she realized what, no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>who</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze was running toward. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh no….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>It almost seemed too late by then, but Amanda ran off after her sister regardless. Asgall joined with her while Maxwell took to the air, bringing the second broom with him. They’d have to make a daring escape now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai had been embroiled in the bloodshed. His mind had been awash in crimson for weeks on end. He was fighting with more than just ideological purpose guiding his blade as he hewed limb from body, blood from flesh. Hatred, a form of it at least, followed every slash and swipe of his blade. If the Fates had led them well, then the object of his hate may be present. As he wrenched his blade free from a troll’s abdomen, slicing a clean killing blow just above the groin, his body turned to see a diminutively sized woman charging him down through fire and war. She was maybe twenty seconds off from reaching him at top speeds when one of his elite warriors attempted to intercept her, only to have his neck become a red fountain, his helmet reduced to metal splinters. Nikolai’s wrathful frown slowly curved into the most wicked of smiles. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“There you are….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He flicked his blade free of blood as the troll he had slain collapsed behind him. Time felt slow; euphoria filled his otherwise sense-deprived body. He watched with growing anticipation as maddened Fae got in her way. Though small, the strength of a scorned witch was never to be doubted. She tackled past clawing goblins, blasted apart maddened spriggans, and slid below the thrashing arms of trolls all dead set on slaying under Chaos’ command. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai’s grip on his blade tightened with every kill Constanze enacted; every display of prowess that proved her to be a worthy foe. Nikolai stood proud amidst the madness. His warriors kept him clear of intervention. They knew now that their master had found his quarry, and that woe betide anything that squandered the thrill of his hunt. A path of sorts was made for Constanze even, where the vampire knights forced the fighting in her way clear by sheer brute force. Amanda was blocked off by two vampire elites who engaged her in an exchange of blades. She barely fended them off alone, but with Asgall’s aid, they’d be able to best them given time. Time was what they lacked most though. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai reached out with his left arm and beckoned Constanze forward before entering a low guard position. His smile was sadism by definition. Nothing else mattered. Not his queen, not the crown, not the creed. Only death and blood and the battle that led to the death and blood. Such was the failing of this so-called “principled lord.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze didn’t even take notice. Not of his taunting beckon, not of the complacency of the knights in making way for her, not in the assault of spells that whizzed before her eyes and over her head. Only Nikolai remained in sight. All else was a black void filled with white noise; distractions. Time for her too felt slow, but like molasses, like being away for a tooth-drilling. Pain was everywhere. Pain was within everything she knew and felt, as was rage, and another sort of hate. Not the kind of hate Nikolai knew; something else, though specific words could never be acutely given to either position. So personal were their obsessions that, to translate the emotion into words would by necessity altar the description. They were ontological in the tensing of muscles. The pumping of blood, or lack thereof. Cold heat in Constanze, juxtaposed by the dead cold of Nikolai’s unliving form. The furious orchestral movements of muscles working together, all in the purpose of the psyche which commanded them. The language of the physiological, of the primordial psychology, those were the only tongues in which these hates could be described. Each step was a symphony of malice for both Nikolai and Constanze. Right and wrong mattered little to either then.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai’s walk started slowly. He was measured, careful, but ultimately impatient. On the other hand, Constanze had started this with a sprint, but she was only getting faster as all pain faded from her mind. She fought best at range, but got closer and closer nonetheless. She rattled off a few slugs toward Nikolai, though he was able to deflect them harmlessly with his bladework. Still, Constanze drew nearer, and Nikolai relished those moments. Finally, he had met someone who he presumed understood what he felt, and who had the fire in her heart to back up the threat; a </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> warrior. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At last, their clash occurred. Nikolai had lifted hgis blade high and intended to cleave Constanze in twain. To his delight, she survived. He wanted this fight to last. Not only did Constanze survive though; she </span>
  <em>
    <span>caught his blade</span>
  </em>
  <span> with her hand. Only a moment later did Nikolai realize that she had used metallurgy to transmute the wayward steel from the corpses of the few vampires who had fallen, summoning the discard pieces to her right hand to encase it in a thick coat of metal. Nikolai’s blade dug deep still, and drew a faint stream of blood from her palm. Constanze wasn’t without a plan though. She had come in with her blaster held in her left hand, and pushed it just below Nikolai’s head to relieve him of it. True to his legacy though, Nikolai would not be felled by this singular strike either. His right hand pushed the wand-ended barrel of the weapon out from under him, allowing the shot to discharge wildly into the air. The two were caught in a bind, staring into one another’s eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze was crying. Her face was red, her eyes bloodshot, her teeth grit. Nikolai’s fangs were barred. His eyes wild, his cheekbones raised high. They struggled for a few short moments while Nikolai chuckled calmly. “Tell me, Von Braunschbank….” Nikolai licked his lips and fangs. His tone made it seem like this was a cordial conversation between friends. “Who taught you how to fight....? Your father certainly didn’t put up as much resistance.” He lowered his head to be but inches away from hers; his figure overpowered her in size. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze’s every breath was forced out of her through anger. Every rise in her chest fought against an emotional weight to rival the pressures of the deepest trench. She couldn’t even muster a sensible response. She merely grunted and growled and screamed as she threw her head back to headbutt Nikolai with a patch of her forehead that she willed to briefly be coated in metal. Nikolai met her motion eagerly with a headbutt of his own. His skull cracked, but his brain remained intact. Nikolai was </span>
  <em>
    <span>glad</span>
  </em>
  <span> that he felt pain. He needed a foe like this: One who could make him feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>! Anything! “That’s it! Scream for me Von Braunsbank!” Nikolai laughed as he launched his left boot up and swiftly kicked Constanze in the chest with preternatural speed. Constanze gasped and coughed immediately, feeling two of her ribs crack as she was thrown back about seven or so feet, having lost the grip on her gun and Nikolai’s blade. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai could have killed her right then and there if he had wanted to. But he didn’t, of course. He wanted to see what Constanze could </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> do when pushed to her limits. Just so, he offered her weapon back by tossing it to her huddled form on the floor. “Get up Von Braunschbank! We’ve only just started!” Nikolai sounded playful, giddy even. He took the time to look at his blade. He found little specks of blood from Constanze’s minor wound on her formerly metal palm and licked it clean in one quick motion. He wouldn’t let a single drop from her body go to waste. Once finished, he pointed it at the shaking form of the wounded witch and beckoned her once more. “Come now! I refuse to believe that one swift kick is all it would take to fell the last of—” A molten ball of fire filled Nikolai’s vision, and the sound of a shouting American filled his ears. “HREEEE!” A terrible hiss left his lips when Nikolai instinctively ducked for cover. He threw his cape over his form and got low, letting the worst of the flames from the explosion wash over him. Immediately after, he discarded the flaming garments and thrashed at his burning hair and body, putting out the flames with some effort. In true pain, his body trembled slightly. Some of the fire had burned into the old wound that Akko and DIana had left with the Claimh Solas, reigniting the crippling dullness in his core. With a grunt of anguish he raised his right hand to cover the now scorched section of his face while his other hand pointed his blade toward the smoke. “WHO DARES!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the smoke dissipated, Nikolai saw the other witch he had allowed to escape standing in front of and above his quarry. Amanda had her sword and wand both leveled at the scion of Bathory. “I dare!” She had broken through the fight with Asgall’s help, and while the ascendant vampire was busy fighting, Amanda had slipped past to ensure Constanze’s safety. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai hissed in disgust. The hair on this one was familiar. It too reminded him of that fateful day when his clan had fallen, but the resemblance to the second hunter was vague and coincidental at best. Though she bore the mark on her hand; something similar at least to what the hunters had, and thus, that was what she was to Nikolai. The very notion that he might be thwarted by another once more, just as the Von Braunschbank ancestor interfered with his duel against the fiery haired hunter, enraged him to immediate action. He brought both of his hands to his blade, revealing the blackened portion of his face where the fire had ruined much of his features. His cry for blood overpowered all other sounds, followed by the clashing of steel against steel as Amanda met his assault with desperate determination.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By then, Will had collected herself from her brief daze. She rose up from the valley with a fury and joined Chaos in the air after she finished off the last of the fleeing Fae. “Chaos! How goes the battle?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos turned to the ground and squinted. She had admittedly lost herself to the pleasures of the bloodsport, allowing the enraged and death hungry souls within her to cease control, and so she wasn’t quite sure herself how things were, though she assumed they were winning. Luckily for her, that seemed to very much be the case. Several of Nikolai’s hadf fallen, but almost all that remained was under their control now. “That…. Parasite. That one there.” She pointed to the raging Asgall as he guarded against a tide of his maddened friends. “He proves… difficult. But those two,” She shifted her focus to Constanze and Amanda. “Nikolai will take care of them, it seems.” Or else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will surveyed the situation for herself and took deep, measured breaths. “And the other witch…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos couldn’t see that old fool anywhere. She shrugged. “Bah. He probably ran with his tail between his legs!” Then she spat some horrible magical effluvia off to the side. “He’s hardly worth the effort!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Though We detest the consistency with which our enemies escape under your watch, We concur….” How much trouble could an old druid cause them now? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Little did they know that Maxwell yet lurked by, masking his magical presence. He was over the northernmost edge of the mountain, just below the lip and outside of sight. The spare broom floated nearby as he chanted a spell to control and spread out his latent sorcerous energies, making it hard to detect him amidst the cacophonies of magic that already filled the area from all of the fighting. He took a quick peak and saw he wasn’t far from where Amanda and Constanze were, and he knew what he had to do. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I need an opening…. I need to get them out. We need to get the twin blades and leave… somehow…. But to where? And how’re going to outrun them?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He was still working through some of the details, and the stress of the situation wasn’t helping. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All the while, Amanda was forced into an unending defensive. Asgall was fast, but Nikolai fought as a man possessed. He may have been weaker than the ascended vampire, but his skill with a blade outclassed the direct threat of crossing claws with Asgall. Of course, it was the magic that made the latter so much scarier, and Amanda knew that Nikolai wouldn’t be able to survive half of what Asgall could. The problem lay in her sheer inability to find any opening! Her blade and wand both were demanded in full to combat every single swipe of his sword, slash of his cllaw, kick of his boots! </span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> is what Maxwell meant by letting a vampire control the melee. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> is why it was best to stay away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Amanda of course knew she couldn’t outrun him now, so this was her only option. Much of the fighting amongst the Fae had died down, and while many possessed creatures surrounded the duel, the elites of Nikolai kept them back with threats of death; none would interfere with his duel. Chaos and Will complied with this only for the moment, though they would come to severely regret that restraint. Constanze was down, but not out, and she wasn’t about to let Nikolai get away with hurting anyone else she loved. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was still curled on the floor about twenty seconds after the kick had been sent her way. The two combatants had long since moved away from her being, but they were still close enough to be seen and heard. Through the pain, Constanze fought to reach for her nearby blaster. She was able to scrap it toward her after some struggle and brought her eye to aim along the sight at an angle. She saw the endless fighting retreat that Amanda had been forced into, for Nikolai hardly allowed her to breathe let alone reposition. Constanze still swelled with rage, but she kept herself acting within reason by following Sucy’s words: She made a promise. She wouldn’t change. She wouldn’t let this rage, this </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate</span>
  </em>
  <span> consume her. Constanze still didn’t know what that meant; maybe she never would. What she did know though is that the promise would be broken if she let her anger take hold, resulting in AManda’s death. No, Constanze needed to be calm. She was left to her devices, unimpeded, believed to be down and out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Breathe…. Breathe…. Breathe….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze mantras this as her mind flashed through the memories of things that anchored her to this life; her reasons for fighting. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“He killed my blood family. He won’t kill Amanda.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze would be well and truly lost if he did. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“We have time. We can get away. We can recover.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>All the while, the enraged part of her mind screamed and roared the opposite: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“THIS YOUR CHANCE. BLOW HIS HEAD OFF. END THIS. DO IT NOW. KILL HIM.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Killing him </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> save Amanda, but the combat was moving too swiftly for Constanze to take any hasty actions. She had one shot, and she couldn’t miss it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her opening came when it was most critical. Nikolai slashed with his left claw along Amanda’s sword wielding arm, ripping it open painfully, knocking aside the blade, and allowing him to pommel bash the witch upside the head, sending her to the ground with a yell. “You fought well, hunter!” Nikolai proclaimed triumphantly, holding the blade high to execute the coughing and dazed Amanda by way of beheading.. “But you and yours will always be </span>
  <em>
    <span>inferior</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze’s heart rate slowed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Breathe.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> And so she did. The sights aligned with the hand that held Nikolai’s sword. The trigger was pulled, and the blade was soon sent spinning through the air off into the crowds. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai had begun his downward strike when he no longer felt his hand present. That was incorrect. He felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> of his hand was still there. And he felt even more pain. Acute, intense, terrible pain! “GAAAAHHH!” The scream instinctively escaped his lips. Nikolai fell to one knee and held the malformed stump of boney fingers and flesh. The sight of their lord, relieved of one of his hands, shocked the elite guard. Amanda looked up, her eyes slowly opening, for they had closed tightly shut as she expected death. When it never came, she forced a painful smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Fates bristled. Will sucked in a sharp bit of air. “We have played enough games! End this!” Chaos comploied, snapping her fingers that the Fae were bid to trample past the elite vampires, though they were not allowed to pass easily, for the vampires still cared for their own lives of course, and feared their lord may be killed in the beating to follow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“If there ever was a time for heroics….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Maxwell held the charm necklace he always wore about his robes and kissed it once. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Then that time is now!”</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Constanze’s opening followed Maxwell’s own. He revealed himself to the Fates senses, but they weren’t quick enough to react. Maxwell was no pro broom rider, but by the Nine could he fly fast when he really needed to. Through the crowds, over the brawl that Asgall was still embroiled in, and betwixt the fumbling vampires did Maxwell surge forth, followed by the broom Benjamin gave the sisters. With one hand he grabbed Constanze, while Amanda had enough strength left in her to reach up and grab the spare broom of her own accord. She left her sword behind, but she had her wand and her life; hopefully that was enough to get them through the day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Immediately, the Fates were taken aback. Will was slow to begin her chase, not even bothering to demand anything from anyone. Chaos lagged behind, faltering between ordering the Fae and Nikolai and keeping pace with her stalwart sister. “YOU BUMBLING OAFS! WRETCHED! REVILED! IDIOTIC! INSIPID! CRKRK!” Another slew of insults in all sorts of tongues followed before she concluded with a final statement before zooming off after the escaping witches. “CATCH IF FAIL YOU WILL THEM I HAVE YOUR TO HEADS! YOUR HEADS!” Then she was off like black lightning, her body already destabilizing from the immense anxiety that suddenly dominated her being. They might fail </span>
  <em>
    <span>yet again</span>
  </em>
  <span> to tie up these loose ends, and it was all because Chaos had mercy on The Child. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“CURSE MY SYMPATHY! AND CURSE YOUR INNOCENCE!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The maddened aspect of the original shrieked in her many minds.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgall too took note of the escape. He may have been embroiled in combat, but he was hardly outmatched or outgunned yet, merely overwhelmed. When he saw the wyrd sisters chase after the trio though, Asgall decided that further fighting here would be pointless. He needed to ensure that they escaped by whatever means necessary. After dispatching one of the spectral foes turned against him, Asgall had been afforded enough space to cast a spell to see him away from this place: </span>
  <b>“JIER’JHUUNTAK!” </b>
  <span>A swift incantation brought his bones to reconfigure at terrifying speeds. His large shoulder blades and the boney spines on his back transformed into a pair of wings befitting an animated gargoyle. He beat the wind with such force on take off as to falter the rushing Fae that sought to catch him, allowing him to pursue after the others. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That left Nikolai all alone, in pain, all consumed by fury. His remaining hand pounded the ground once, smashing one stone panel into dozens of fragments. “CURSE YOU…! VON BRAUNSCHBAAAAANK!” Such was the way of a man who invited a fight that challenged him, yet recoiled at the realities of defeat; a contradiction among thousands he and his clan held to.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“PHOS! PHOS!” Amanda crushed another piece of crystalized magic to refresh her internally burning body. Her energy was revitalized, but she was spending it so quickly that the pain never really faded. “FUCKING PHOS!” It was like the burning provided by lactic acid in the muscles, but it felt like it was in the skin rather than the bones or muscles. Nevertheless, they had to go faster. Her and Maxwell were neck and neck; Constanze was saddled on the latter’s broom, still coming to from the daring escape. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All the while, they had to bob and weave around the occasional spell thrown their way by the pursuing Fate witches; Will and Chaos were hot on their tail. Each gust of wind that Amanda blasted back brought the fleeing trio precious inches of space between their foes, but this lead couldn’t last forever, and the Fates were growing more desperate by the moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos’ wings buzzed so loudly as to dominate the soundscape along with the noises of rushing wind. Everyone’s mind was filled by the howling gales and the nauseating buzz of a million insects; even Will wasn’t spared from this. Unlike the mortals however, Will had a boundless tolerance for suffering. She rocked space itself, the air in front and around the fleeing brooms, with kinetic blasts directed from her mind. She couldn’t kill them, of course, for The Pact remained in effect, but she herself was growing desperate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos was beyond desperate; she’d lost it. She fired off eldritch bolts with reckless abandon, doing everything in her power to stop the broombound witches. She was even aiming to kill directly, but an innocent force, the light of The Child within, forced her aim wide, and anchored The Original to some semblance of sanity and control while the thousands of other souls all vied for power. The masses of entities within Chaos wanted this to be over. They wanted an end to suffering. They wanted true, endless oblivion; unexistence. It was better than the incomprehensible pain that would follow should Chaos die in the typical sense. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Child…? Why…?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The Original was weak, and growing weaker by the day. Part of her too longed for a blissful end, though she still clung onto the mortal instinct to preserve herself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I meant what I said! I trust them! They can help Us!” </span>
  </em>
  <span> Urged The Child as she interrupted another spell, supplicating it with a less deadly one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“There is… no helping….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The Original’s voice faded beneath the screaming mass of souls who demanded this end. The Child fought on, silently resisting the spirits with all of her might, unknown to all present. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Turbulence was pleasant by comparison to this seemingly unending barrage. Maxwell could barely keep his broom afloat, but Amanda was keen on using her own directed gusts of air to keep both his and her own broom from spiralling out of control. The hold was near; they would arrive within but a minute or so’s time, and Will could sense the power of that place growing closer and closer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will’s mind throbbed with pain. She herself wasn’t debilitated, or otherwise injured, but the possibility that these two witches, these “reclaimers,” might escape, gave her a baleful migraine. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Only one need die!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She thought amidst casting and chasing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Such was the Pursuer’s guarantee: If one fell, then all would fall in time!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>And yet the Pursuer’s own restriction was what prohibited the Fates from making this easy. She could crush either witches' heads like a grape with but a modest amount of effort, and she would do it in a heartbeat, were it not for the fate that would befall her. The chase continued, and the further along they went with it, the more WIll began to lose composure. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“For millennia we have struggled under this rule! These degrees that separate…. And for what!?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her following strike spun Amanda’s broom around a full one eighty degrees. The firebrand witch grit her teeth and jerked hard on the pole, blasting off a Phos spell from one of her hands to complete the turn around into a full three-sixty spin. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“All We can do is harry! All we have ever been able to do is scheme and annoy!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She was starting to sound like her sisters; even the most stoic of persons’ had their limits. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Before it was with good reason…. To slay one witch by Our own hand would see Us destroyed…. But back then, one dead witch would have meant nothing!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Now it meant </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“WE’RE COMING IN HOT!” Maxwell shouted as an eld blast shrieked over his head, exploding before their own flight path in a gaseous cloud of toxic smoke. Coughing and hacking consumed the fleeing witches, but their brooms did not slow. They were descending now at an angle toward the opening in the mountaintop: They would fly directly down into the belly of the hold. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos caught sight of their intended path and shrieked out a spell in eld tongue. A barrage of malicious purple orbs screamed past the broombound trio and struck the entrance, creating a small cave in, bringing rubble down in front of the path. Constanze wouldn’t stand for that. She may have been on the verge of collapsing in pain as the numbing effects of the earlier healing spells and tonics wore off, but she refused to die. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Tectonica!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her own spell commanded that same fallen rubble to part, making a spade just wide enough for Amanda’s broom to race through, followed a moment later by Maxwell’s broom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“CONFOUNDED WRETCHES!” Chaos bellowed as she buzzed behind, entering the dark tunnel that descended deep down into the mountain core. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will came last, still caught in an internal uproar. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“With but ONE death We could save billions….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Will needed only say the words. She need only kill one. Constanze. Amanda. It mattered not which witch died, only that they died. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Vengeance would be ours….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her fingers contorted; her knuckles tightened. The spell was on the tip of her tongue, and yet she couldn’t say it easily. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Curse… THIS… mortal fear!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>After having died several times, only to be revived, her body replaced, Will still hadn’t come to terms with a true oblivion. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“We know what it does to things it demands gone…. The…. The….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Even Will couldn’t speak of the not-tower that never existed on the not-cliff where the not-leyline was held. It was never there, after all. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It will do that to Us, to me!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Will’s lips trembled. For once in thousands of years, she knew fear. The beginning of the incant trembled out into the air, down into the darkness of the long stairwell that led down into the hold. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Tolera… Chi’Anara…” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her speech faltered. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I can’t…. I can’t doom myself….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Their prey grew ever more distant; the Fates couldn’t keep pace any further. Will had to reason this out somehow. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“There must be another way! How could they hope to escape from here now? Is there more than one entrance?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>From all she saw, Will couldn’t imagine what sort of scheme the trio had in mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda and Constanze didn’t have any sort of scheme, of course. They were merely following Maxwell’s lead, even if Amanda was the one in front. They would retrieve the twin blades and then…? “MAXY!” The former yelled back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“WHAT!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“WHAT HAPPENS WHEN WE GET THE SWORDS!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell paused to think it through. The summons chamber down in the deepest portion was blocked in, but they could maybe blast through to it if they worked fast. “WE NEED TO GO DEEPER!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“WHY!?” Constanze demanded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off as a portion of the tunnel nearly collapsed on him from Chaos’ assault. “HOLD ON!” He managed to barely skirt the broom around the edge of the falling debris, allowing him to catch up with Amanda who just made it into the grand hall proper. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaos paid no mind to her own hazards. She barrelled through the falling rocks with enough force to shatter the stone as her form metamorphosed constantly to suit her needs. She may have feared even a temporary death, for it would bring her closer to complete consumption by the curse on her soul, but The Original no longer had control. Chaos didn’t consider the myriad of possibilities in where her attacks directly killed, or closely influenced the deaths of any of the three witches they pursued. She just wanted this to be over; the captive spirits wanted this to be over, one way or another, even if it meant her erasure from existence. Were it not for The Child’s intervention, she already would have broken The Pact.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will on the other hand was cursed with an eternal lucidity; she knew all too well what would happen, and so her hand too was stayed. Thus, as she and Chaos flew toward the entrance to the grand hall, a powerful barrier of blue flames erected itself in front of them. Chaos crashed into it like it was a brick wall, but unlike a brick wall, she couldn’t penetrate it. Her form was burned badly, her chitinous form was shattered in many places, and she produced little noise save for a gurgle as her body slammed to the floor unceremoniously. She was rendered mercifully unconscious, left on death's door. Will had much more time and space to react, and so she was able to slow herself to a halt just above Chaos’ crumpled form. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“CHAOS!” Will shouted with rage and concern. She lowered herself to the ground and sensed the life within Chaos to yet remain. She sighed with slight relief and began to channel powerful healing spells to keep her sister alive while she looked past the blue wall of flame. She saw glimpses of Amanda, Maxwell, and Constanzer as they stumbled off of their brooms, gathered up the case that contained the twin blades Dyrnwyn and Carnwennan, and scurried off into the depths of the hold. Closer though, Will could see faint orbs of magic, alight with the same fire that forbade the Fates from entering. Will grew hot like a hateful sun as she knelt over Chaos’ nearly limp body. The very sight of Vaal and Jehanne’s spectral energies was enough to turn her healing spells into torturous streams of pain. “YOU! YOU DOOM US ALL!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Flashes of their human shapes came between the flames. Both Vaal and Jehanne looked on with pity. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Had we known….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Vaal began, but silenced herself at Jehanne’s quiet behest; a gentle hand upon her shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“There’s no use speaking to her…. She’s not who we used to know.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will pounded her fists, brimming with blinding magic, against the wall of fire to no avail. “I AM AS I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN!” The original voice of Will broke through.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The witch with that voice was of a kind heart…. You hold no such thing in your bosom.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jehanne turned her head away. She couldn’t bear to look at Will any further.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will tried with all of her might to break through the barrier, but her spells were useless. “MY KIND HEART WAS BROKEN!” Still, she couldn’t hold herself together. There was nothing left to do but rage and wrath against the apparitions before her. “YOU KNOW THIS TO BE TRUE!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vaal wiped what must’ve been a tear from her eye. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Be that as it may…. If you are who we knew you to be… then… then don’t let that poor girl die at your feet.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She flippantly gestured to Chaos who was now lying in a pool of black ooze and blood. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“The witch we knew didn’t leave her loved ones to die.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will turned her eyes down to Chaos for just a moment, only to look up and see the spirits had gone while the fire remained. “No…. NO YOU DON’T GET TO SAY THAT!” Will screamed, tears building in her own eyes. “YOU DON’T GET TO SPEAK OF LOVE! YOU DON’T GET TO SPEAK OF ABANDONMENT! YOU KNOW NOTHING OF EITHER!” Silence followed. It was useless. Will fell to her knees again and evaporated all tears from her eyes in an instant as her body grew hotter and hotter. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Is it not enough that we are doomed…? Must they throw salt in my wound…?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Will looked to her fists gripped white in rage. She felt that with every defeat, they were being drawn closer and closer toward utter damnation, either for their own beings, or for humanity itself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Is it not enough that we are forced to choose…?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her thought process was cut short then by the sound of distant wingbeats. They sounded not dissimilar to the sound of the dreadsteeds, but Will knew who approached just by the energy on the wind. She turned her head slowly around to see the murderous Asgall trained on her like a missile. His claws were held out, his fangs ready to rip and tear both Will and Chaos into unrecognizable piles of gore. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Ahh…. Yes…. You.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Will was reminded now of Asgall’s existence; she knew who he was. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I…. We, We remember mention of you....”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Though they never did meet face to face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“If We cannot kill the reclaimers…. If the Bathorys are so weak as to be bested by disparate sorcerers…. If our Fae slaves cannot do what must be done….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Will raised a hand weakly to the air. With one finger, she gently opened a tear to reality as though she were ripping a hole through soggy paper. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Then the very servants whom we seek to eradicate shall enact Our will.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Will felt her sullen and angry expression fade away. For once, she was smiling. Irony would be the tool with which they saved humanity. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asgalls’ eyes widened as the abyss opened before him. Will and Chaos disappeared into the void dimension of hate as the tear grew wider, consuming their bodies. Asgall tried to open his wings wide, but the passage wasn’t large enough to allow for him to spread himself out enough to gather enough wind resistance. The zealous speed with which he chased the Fates would be his downfall as he fell into the tear, taken far away from The Balefire of Caledonia. Without a nearby Balefire, he would soon lose himself entirely. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“GO LEFT! NOT RIGHT!” Yelled Maxwell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damnit!” Amanda cursed to herself as she skid to a halt, turned about face, and then caught back up with Constanze and Maxwell. “So about that plan!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re headed for the Summons chamber!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm!?” Constanze grunted in confusion as she ran. It was impossible for her to speak, for her run was more of a hunched over limp as she held her chest, praying that her likely broken ribs didn’t pierce anything vital. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a room that we used to travel between Balefires! It’s… caved in, but!” Maxwell raised a pointed finger as he ran. “We should be able to blast our way through the rubble!” They had to hope that this wouldn’t lead to them being crushed by the ceiling of course, but it was better not to mention that out loud. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, you guys had something like that down here!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How else did you think we kept a worldwide presence!?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Brooms are pretty fast!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not fast enough!” Maxwell shut the conversation down with that. “The problem is the ritual requires two points to be workin’ in tandem!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm? Mmmm…!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m…. What did she say?!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s asking what you mean!” The trio rounded yet another corner and descended down a tight spiral staircase.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What I mean is that we need a point to teleport to! We open the gateway on this end, and someone else has to open a matching exit point!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How the hell is that gonna help us!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That friend of yours! The one with the glasses!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lotte!?” Amanda and Constanze exclaimed in unison, the latter doing so with a groan of pain as Amanda aided her down the stairs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye! Can you get in touch with her!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda looked to Constanze as they descended. Constanze nodded once after some thought and began to wave her wand about hastily amidst their hurried run. Sure enough, given time, Lotte was being called. The connection wasn’t great, but it was serviceable. About five ringers later, a tired eyed, glassless, pajama wearing Lotte came on screen. She looked like she just jumped out of bed in fright given the blankets now splayed out messily on the floor. “EH!? What!? What!? Are you guys ok!?” Her projection kept pace with the running trio, though she could only see Amanda and Constanze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lotte!” Amanda began. “Can you do a ritual thing for us!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte rubbed her eyes and sluggishly put her glasses on. She squinted at her crystal ball. “It’s two in the morning where I am! What’s wrong!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re being chased by those freaky ass witches! We lost ‘em for now, but we gotta go!” Lotte covered her mouth at Amanda’s explanation. This was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> what she wanted to wake up to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell’s voice came from ahead of the sister witches. “You’ll need to follow my instructions to the letter if it’s to work!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, ok, um…. Hold on a second! I just woke up, and I can barely think! Let me get my mom! She can help!” Lotte was quick to rise from her chair, and even quicker to start running for her door. She tripped and fell face first to the floor, having been snagged on her blanket, and, to Constanze and Amanda’s ears, began cursing in Finnish like never before. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>unheard of</span>
  </em>
  <span> to hear Lotte swear. Both were relieved when they saw Lotte get up, quickly repair her glasses with magic, and throw her door open before shouting her parents awake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The descent continued quietly for another few minutes as the trio made their way to the caved-in hallway, and when they arrived, so too did Lotte from her explanation. She scampered back into her room, held her crystal ball in both hands, and brought it downstairs where Mr. and Mrs. Jansson were frantically gathering up every ingredient possible. They didn’t know what they needed, but they weren’t about to waste time waiting. “Ok! What do we need!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The wand! Give it here!” Maxwell urged. Constanze complied with a pained grunt before Amanda set her down on the floor to rest, leaning her against the wall. With Maxwell now in view of the camera, the elder witch cleared his throat. “Alright! I’ll tell you what you need to do! Amanda! You take care of the blockage!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Got it!” Amanda was quick to draw her wand, take out the remainder of her crystal magic shards, and crush them in her hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright! So we’ll need—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BOOM! </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“BY VAAL’S ANVIL! MIND THE EXPLOSION!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“YOU SAID TO CLEAR A PATH!” It wasn’t clear yet, but it was a start.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell groaned and wiped his face before returning his focus to Lotte. “We need salt! Lots of salt! I’ll need you to be ready to copy the design I make once we’re—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BOOM! BOOM! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Meter by meter, the hallway was being cleared. The stone foundations creaked and groaned, becoming a little more unstable with every blast. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhh… got it!” Lotte relayed the info to her parents who assembled three bags worth of salt. “What else!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you have Heather plants?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Heather plants?” Lotte asked, prompting Maxwell to hold up his necklace bound in the stem and flower of said plant. “Mom! Do we have this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Mrs. Jansson came rushing over, almost tripping over a bag of salt as she peered into the crystal ball. “We… might have some! Honey, do we—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ALREADY GOT IT!” Mr. Janssonn could be seen in the background holding up a potted Heather plant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh thank The Nine….” Maxwell breathed deep. “Ok… Now you need Fae dust, a good bit of it! And five, no, no wait, where are you located?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Umm…. Finland?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Make that </span>
  <em>
    <span>seven </span>
  </em>
  <span>candles!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“O-Ok! We got that stuff! Now wh—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“NINE WEPT AMANDA! I TOLD YOU TO—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Path’s clear!” Miraculously, it wasn’t caving in. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yet. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze forced herself back to her feet and hobbled down the ruined corridor at Amanda’s signal, and Maxwell helped her along once he got a hold of himself. Sure enough, the path led to a simple, rotted wood doorway which Amanda kicked down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t locked you know!” Maxwell chided. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No time!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The room before them was small, filled with various small magical altars, paintings, burnt out candles, and various magical charms and jars containing all kinds of arcane reagents. In the center, a complex sigil was marked in the stone floor. It resembled some sort of star chart, though on closer inspection it revealed itself to be an esoteric representation of ley-lines, the roots of Yggdrasil, and their infinitely winding and complex patterns that connected all of the lands on Earth to each other, and to realms beyond. Maxwell was quick to grab salt from one of the many jars and spread it in a specific pattern that connected their location on the ley-line map to Lotte’s. By that jagged line, he spread more salt into various arcane runes and shapes to grant power to the circle. Lotte followed along, giving instructions as needed; their own rift was coming together nicely. Finally, Maxwell cast off his Heather necklace into the center of the ritual circle and looked to Amanda. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda didn’t hesitate. With a flick of her wand, the necklace was set alight. “Conz! You got the candles?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm….” Constanze was in pain, but she refused to consign herself to idleness. Seven candles were magically brought around the circle while Lotte was keen to ensure her own circle matched the position and patterns exactly. Once the candles were in place, Amanda was able to light them all in an instant with a wordles spell. “There….” Constanze hushly remarked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright you two, now stand back.” Maxwell’s command saw Amanda joining Constanze behind the elder witch as he brought his staff to bear, having set aside the crate holding the twin blades from his back. He began to chant in druidic fashion, just as he did when opening dispelling the illusion that hid hold when Constanze and Amanda first arrived. The stone ceiling shuttered and shifted all the while, prompting Constanze to cast spells to secure the surrounding architecture. In time, the rift was opened. Maxwell breathed heavily and looked back to the display of Lotte. “Ok, now, either you or your mother, repeat after me:” Thus he began the incat again, but slower this time, allowing the Janssons to clearly understand his specific ununciations, for accuracy was paramount in this ritual. Finally, after some trial and error, the portal was opened on their end as well. “Excellent!” Maxwell smiled out of sheer excitement; this might actually work!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda rushed to jump through, but Maxwell was quick to stop her, holding his cane out in front of her. “What gives!? We gotta go!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know! Let’s… let’s test it first.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We need to make sure it doesn’t just teleport you half into the floor is all!” Maxwell turned around, grabbed the case containing the blades, and took a deep breath. “Watch out on your end, Lotte!” Then he chucked it in with all the might his frail body could muster. Nothing happened for a few moments, prompting Mr. Janssonn to peek his head close to the portal. For his trouble, he was rewarded with a conk to the head from the heavy stone box. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ohhh…! Oww! Ow!” Mr. Jansson held his head hard before collapsing to the floor on his side with metaphorical stars circling his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dad!” Lotte was less concerned and more annoyed at his bumbling nature. She knew he’d be alright. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It worked!” Maxwell wrapped his staff once against the floor. “Alright! Now you two!” Maxwell stepped off to the side and made no other attempts to move.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda helped Constanze along toward the swirling green and black ley-line portal, only to halt and look to Maxwell. “Wait... are you not coming with us?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maxwell sighed. He’d been had. “An Undertaker can’t leave the grave he’s charged with…. Not like this.” More rumbling came from the ceiling; this portion of the hold would soon collapse. “I’ll be alright! But you two need to go!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck that! Come on! Don’t be an idiot and get yourself killed!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I may be an old man…!” Maxwell started before suddenly shoving Amanda and Constanze through the portal, watching Amanda and Constanze look back in shock at their elderly comrade as he stood smiling on the other end of their winding and infinitely fast descent into the ley-lines. The portal was rendered useless on his end when he kicked his feet into the salt circle, disrupting the shape. It closed with a flash, leaving Maxwell alone and in the dark.  “But I’m not about to slow ye down….” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rumbling continued. Bits of stone began to fall from above! Maxwell cursed in Gaelic and began to hurry on back the way they came. “But I’m not about to die for nothin’ either!” He’d see himself through this. He’d make sure the hold was safe, and then he’d meet them at Porthcurno. This he swore. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Black and green and white. That’s all the ley-lines were. Spirals of infinite green and black and white. This was a more primal path though than the one used by the witches of Luna Nova. It was chaotic, frantic, messy, and mesmerizing. Constanze and Amanda both had their eyes wide, unable to close them as their minds were assaulted by flashes of random imagery. They saw sights of the lands above: Stretches of ocean, a Belgian port town, the capital building of Luxembourg still alight with activity during an important decision regarding the city-state’s position on magic, and a riot in Munich Germany led by predominantly Fae beings against unmarked militants in dark grey gear fit for the heaviest of combat zones; the militants’ faces were obscured behind gas-masks. On and on the sights went, all of them showing vistas of places they were traveling past through the roots of Yggdrasil. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The strangest thing they saw though were these small red clusters accompanied by black tendrils. They were like superimposed images over the sights of the world above. They were hard to distinguish from the black lines in the ley-line spiral though, and the red clusters, seemingly eyes, blended in with all of the other assaulting visual stimuli. Needless to say, their senses were overloaded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Then they saw wood. Just wood. They had both face planted messily onto the Jansson’s floor, and were already hissing and groaning in pain, holding various parts of their sore bodies. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrs. Jansson rushed over with all the speed she could muster and carefully rolled them over to examine them. When Constanze couldn’t be moved without screaming in pain, Mrs. Jansson looked to her daughter and spoke in Finnish. “</span>
  <span>Hanki minulle purkki trollirasvaa, tusina noita-ohdakekasveja sekä laastini ja survini! Nopeasti!” She needed troll fat and witch-thistle leaves, fast!</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Jansson raised a thumbs up from the floor, still holding his head with his other hand. “Oook…!” He was trying at least. Lotte was much more responsive of course, and hurried off into the backroom of the shop to procure what they needed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda and Constanze both were left in pain for some time on the floor before they were transported to a guest room where they were laid out together on the same bed. All the while, neither could even begin to unravel the emotional hell that they were individually experiencing. So much had gone wrong, and so much was yet to go wrong. Sleep evaded them until Mrs. Jansson used her magic to aid them in rest. They would need it. More so, they had earned it. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><hr/><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. The Burdens We Bear</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>FINALLY! I'm so very sorry about the extra wait! Power went out where I was due to a bad storm, so I was unable to write much for three days at least. That said, power has been back, I've been able to finish this chapter, and I'm quite proud about it! </p><p>Take note though! I've increased the number of projected chapters to 28! Now that I'm reaching the final stretch, I'm certain that I'll need that extra chapter space to keep things split up in good chunks in terms of content and context! </p><p>That said, I hope you all enjoy! </p><p>Tumblr: https://karmotrinedreams91.tumblr.com/</p><p>I HAVE A TWITTER NOW! </p><p>https://twitter.com/KarmotrineDrea1</p><p>I'll be posting updates there too! Feel free to follow or chat with me at any time!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Finnish mornings were something else. They were just like mornings anywhere else, but by comparison to where Constanze and Amanda had been sleeping prior, this was downright luxurious. There was no strangeness to the surroundings when either of them came to from their long rest. The outside windows let in a good deal of light. The streets saw no unrest, the motorways weren’t clogged with panicking drivers, and the sky was clear of malevolent creatures. They had escaped to somewhere disconnected from the immediate madness of the world. Neither were quick to awaken, even after they realized that they were starting to rouse from slumber. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda’s left eye creaked open, examined the room, and then closed again. She was nominally awake, but had no intention of moving for a while at least. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Still alive at least.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She moved quite a bit in fact, but not to get out of bed. She merely readjusted herself into a more comfortable position. Then she realized the cold spot on her head. When she reached up to pat the spot, she found a pack containing an ice-elemental core had been strapped to where Nikolai had bashed her. With a minor nudge, she set it right, helping to ease the continued throbbing in her head that was beginning to resurface now that she was awake; the rest of her soreness would soon follow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rustling beside Constanze disturbed her just enough for her to stare at the ceiling with wide eyes for about a moment or two before attempting to roll over onto her stomach so that she could firmly plant her face in the pillow. “HSSSS!! Tchctchtch!” The only problem was that she forgot she had two broken ribs, and so she jerked back into her former posture, her eyes now shut tight in pain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda spun around and lifted her head a few inches off of her pillow to lazily regard her sister. “You kay…?” She slurred. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze opened her eyes slowly only to close them tighter at the brightness of the room. “Mmmm! Pillow.” Amanda lazily reached from beneath her own stack and handed one off, which Constanze laid firmly over her face, allowing some semblance of darkness to cover her. “Dmmke.” She muffeldly replied. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t…. Aaaaaaahhhhhhhuhhh….” Amanda’s yawn accompanied her slumping back down into the bed. “.... Mention it.” With that she drifted back off to what may have been a restful hours long sleep, or a five minute period where her eyes were simply closed, and time moved so very slowly; it was hard to tell when Lotte’s entrance broke the tranquil silence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>First a knock came, then the slow creaking of wood as Lotte poked her head in. When she saw that Constanze and Amanda were still in bed, she frowned with all due concern; she’d been worrying all morning. “Are you guys awake…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Both witches stirred slightly. “Mmmmmmmrrghgghh….” As to who made that noise was anyone’s guess.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Lotte continued. “Lunch is almost over, and we made you guys some food in case you were hungry….” The aroma of said food followed soon after as Lotte opened the door wider. Four dishes, two thick broths and two large pastries, were being balanced by a hat-rack, of all things. Lotte had animated the furniture piece to help in carrying her things about often; the spirit within was quite keen on being helpful in little ways like that. It sprouted wider platforms from where the hats would normally hang to accommodate the plates, and Lotte had become proficient enough with her spirit speaking and matter manipulation magicks as to be able to enchant her animated spirit-fellows to change their forms to any that they desired. “I remembered how much you guys like how my dad makes karelian stews, so we made some of those…. And I thought… maybe… some sweets would give you a bit of an energy boost.” Lotte was no hospitaller. She was sweet as could be, and she tried to be as such, but she didn’t know how to handle someone genuinely wounded. She felt she couldn’t do much of anything special, but making her friends comfortable was one of the few talents she allowed herself to recognize. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Quiet fell upon the room again for about ten seconds as Lotte and her hat-rack buddy shuffled inside. The former gingerly closed the door behind her. Amanda turned her head to look toward the direction of the smell as it hit her nose. She forced her eyes open, wiped at them with her hands, and tried to get out of bed, only to struggle and resign herself once the aching became too much. “Ahhh, god damnit….” Amanda hated being injured. She was an active woman, and she hated when people waited on her. “Sorry, Lotte, but could you bring it here?” Still, Amanda was more hungry than she was stubborn right now. A lot of her stubbornness was expended last night just by her trying to stay alive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course!” Lotte didn’t mind one bit, and neither did the hat-rack. “Really, y-you guys should sit tight. You’re both pretty beat up.” The hat-rack lowered the two plates onto Amanda’s lap as she very carefully sat herself up against the wall, hissing once from the initial shock of the new position, but calming down once her body had been able to slip past the immediate stinging. “Careful!” Lotte urged. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m… fine….” Amanda forced a smile. “Just… fine.” She absolutely was not fine. Not physically, not mentally, not emotionally; not fine one bit. “Thanks.” She could hardly maintain the smile for long, but it was enough to ease Lotte. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about you, Constanze?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmhrghhgmmmm….” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte’s frown only deeped. “Constanze that’s not even a word by your standards….” It sounded like a groan of pain, but it was hard to tell with Constanze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze pushed the pillow up just enough to reveal her mouth, allowing the rest to keep her tired eyes in darkness. “Mmm mmmmm.” A weak thumbs up accompanied the grunts, though even Amanda knew that the display was a lie much like her own forced smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>sound</span>
  </em>
  <span> fine.” Lotte huffed. “Just tell me what I can do to help and, and I’ll do it, ok?” She rounded the bed then so that she could sit beside Constanze in a wooden chair that she willed to glide quietly across the floor with her magicks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze pushed her messy, unbraided and unbowed hair out of her face; the Janssons had done away with the pink bow from how ragged and torn it had become. “I’m fine.” She flatly intoned, lying otherwise motionless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gotta agree with Lotte here.” Amanda paused to down a few savory chunks of elk from the stew. “You don’t sound fine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look who's talking.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“H-Hey! I’m… fine… mostly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte sighed, took the plates from her animated hat-rack, and set them beside where Constanze was laying. “Will you please eat a little? Mama said the potions she had you guys drink won’t sit well on an empty stomach.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze didn’t respond at first and simply breathed deliberately, seemingly in thought. Amanda spoke in the meantime. “What did she have us drink anyway?” All Amanda knew was that it had a </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> sour aftertaste following an intense sweetness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She called it Troll Ichor.” Lotte explained. “It’s meant to replicate the fast healing that trolls have, but it’s nothing like what the name might imply.” Lotte pressed her pointer fingers together as she continued. “N-Not for lack of trying, but it’s not going to heal a broken bone in a day….” If only they were so lucky to heal as quickly as trolls, vampires, and various other magical creatures did. “It should have sealed up any cuts and gashes though. They’ll start scabbing quick, so don’t pick at them.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda sighed. “It’s a start….” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hopefully after a few more doses….” Lotte hesitated. “We’ll get you guys as healthy as we can as fast as we can.” Amanda wanted to remind Lotte that they’d be alright, given the frozen state of time at Luna Nova, but after they’d been tracked down by the Fates and Nikolai, Amanda wasn’t sure if that roadblock would hold indefinitely. Even if it did, she couldn’t blame her for wanting to resolve this quickly. Every day that went by was another day where the mundane governments of Britain and France specifically could figure out what was going on at Luna Isle. Their intervention could ruin everything, given how tactless most national forces had been in the past about dealing with arcane threats. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s all we can do then….” Amanda could say that much at least, but she hated that concession just as well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” Said Constanze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?” Lotte quirked her head back to Constanze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll eat.” Constanze set aside the pillow, revealing her perfectly open and wide eyes. By the look of it, she hadn’t even been trying to sleep more with that pillow on her face. Constanze took a deep breath and tried to sit up, but again, to no avail. Were it not for Lotte’s quick wand-work, Constanze’s sudden cringe of pain as she rose in the bed would have sent hot stew all over the floor. Lotte magicked the dishes aside for a moment as Constanze forced herself through the pain into an upright position. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“D-Do you need—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” Constanzes’ breaths were laborious, but not too heavy. The worst of her pain had passed. The dull aching remained, but she could tune that out if she focused hard enough. “Give.” Constanze mumbled while holding out her arms stiffly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok….” Lotte slowly offered the stew, which Constanze accepted with even greater care. “It might be hot though, so….” Constanze nodded amidst Lotte’s speech. Then she inhaled sharply through her nose, closed her eyes, and let her muscles relax. Finally, Constanze took up the utensils and began eating, albeit slowly. Her body needed the food, but she didn’t feel any hunger; the stress, anger, pain, all of it dominated her waking moments, leaving her in a bitter haze of general agitation. Lotte couldn’t just sit in awkward silence though. “Um, could you guys tell me what happened last night? It all happened so sudden that I—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t want to talk about it.” Constanze interrupted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can we at least tell her why we were running?” Asked Amanda. Constanze paused, holding a forkful of lamb still in the air as she reckoned with her own anger. Eventually, she ate the piece of meat, nodded once, and resumed her weary dining. It was clear just by how Constanze hesitated that she wanted the shortest version of the story to be told. “Alright: So those vampire freaks and their witch buddies found us during the last trial.” Amanda intentionally lied about that last detail; she’d rather forget the outcome of that test. “They attacked us, and we tried to fight back, but they turned all of the Fae against us, so we had to book it out of there. Maxwell got us out while Asgall—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right…. Uhh, I’ll fill you in on him some other time. Anyways:” Amanda scarfed down another few mouthfuls of stew; her stomach was already feeling better at least. “He held them off. We had to outrun those weird witches though. We were lucky that the hold is a god damn maze; they lost us in there.” At least that’s what Amanda had to assume happened. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well I’m glad you guys made it out, but where’s—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stayed behind.” Constanze didn’t explain further. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte gripped the hem of her plain, button up shirt in annoyance. “Can I finish what I’m saying?” She was understandably on edge, and while she herself understood, somewhat, why Constanze would be upset, that didn’t excuse rudeness in Lotte’s eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze tensed up. Her shoulders rose half an inch, her expression hardened, her eyes shut tight, and her breathing was forced. Slowly then she set aside her utensils before being able to breathe easy. Her eyes opened slowly.  “I’m sorry, Lotte.” She was acting like how  she did back when the first news arrived of Ludinghal, and she </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated </span>
  </em>
  <span>that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte took a deep breath herself, knowing she was needlessly snippy as well. “It’s alright, Constanze. I’m sorry if I upset you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be.” Constanze chided. Every little aggravating stimulus felt like a slight against her person. The very inconvenience of a slightly hot stew, though provided by a friend out of care, had Constanze biting her tongue to not shove it away. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Childish.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She chided herself viciously, sounding so very angry in her head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You said you’d be better than this. That you wouldn’t let it get to you. You said you wouldn’t change.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She broke that promise last night, in her own eyes, and she was breaking it now too just by allowing herself to be so easily upset. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“All because of that bastard.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>One look is all it took, and Constanze saw red. Even now, as she looked back down to her fork and spoon, images of her brutalizing Nikolai with those very same utensils invaded the forefront of her mind. They were dark and twisted fantasies where Constanze ripped and tore until all but gore remained. She had to look away from the plate of food as the thoughts assailed her. They made her sick. “Mmm….” She was no longer hungry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But you barely touched it….” Lotte didn’t want food to go to waste, or for Constanze to go hungry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you reheat it later…?” Constanze mumbled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Only if you promise to eat all of it.” Lotte wasn’t trying to treat Constanze as though she were immature, but she also knew that some sort of emotional matter was clouding Constanze’s typically logical judgement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” By her own admission, Constanze wouldn’t have thought twice about eating the meal were it not for the fury in her blood that made her whole body feel like it was just one hair-pin-pull away from exploding into violence. For now, she would sit quietly, doing all she could to gain some semblance of control over her current emotional state, as if her brain could be so easily rewired so as to not emit certain chemicals. The pros of becoming a computer based intelligence only became more and more apparent to Constanze as time went on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte nodded, took the stew off of Constanze’s lap, and set it aside again. She hoped that her witch-gineer friend would ask for it again sooner rather than later. “So, about Maxwell.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda responded after slurping down the liquid portion of her stew. “What about ‘em?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why did he stay behind?” Lotte held her mouth open to speak further, but wasn’t sure just how to approach the topic. “D-Do you think he’s…. You know….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda inhaled slowly, and exhaled slower as she set aside the empty stew bowl. “He said he had a duty to fulfill to protect the hold, but….” Amanda shook her head. “Maybe he’s alive, maybe he’s dead, I dunno. It’s his choice to go out like that if he is dead, but I’m hoping he wasn’t that suicidal.” Amanda was almost reminded of her own reckless self-endangerment. The difference for her lay only in the fact that Maxwell did it out of a sense of duty, and not for lack of care when it came to self preservation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you think the hold had some more powerful artifacts he was trying to seal away?” Lotte surmised. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh it definitely did.” Amanda saw plenty of them first hand, after all. “But the valuable stuff is all broken. It's to make sure that if people stole it, that they wouldn’t be able to use it. Only a witch-smith can repair them.” She said that as if it was a good thing, and it was, until she remembered that Constanze had to repair Dyrnwyn and Carnwennan. She trusted her sister, but did her sister trust herself? Amanda’s eyes lingered on Constanze briefly as the thought crossed her mind until she confused herself on Lotte, who seemed genuinely concerned about the prospect of needing a witch-smith. “Don’t worry: Constanze is a witch-smith! We’ll get those swords fixed up before you know it.” Amanda looked again to Constanze, as did Lotte, and they were both disheartened to see that she hardly even reacted to the show of confidence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” That was all Constanze could muster right now. Everything else was a hateful, vile, and violent thought. It all casted doubt on her own abilities, for how could Constanze repair such mythical blades if she couldn’t even focus enough to speak more than a few words. Sure, talking was never her strong point, but she had been able to push past her discomfort quite a lot in the past week or so. She may have done so out of necessity in many cases, but she didn’t feel terribly unsafe or anxious most of the time; it was more an issue of exhaustion, rather than crippling social fear, as it was in the past. Constanze couldn’t claim she hadn’t grown. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“One step forward. Two steps back. Fucking wonderful.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>But she could claim with utter certainty that the torrent of emotions she was dealing with was greatly hindering her very ability to live and breath. Every moment where she wasn’t giving into those impulses felt like it required almost all of her mental faculties, and she knew she was due to burn out sooner rather than later. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Something’s got to give. Needs to change. Need to stop. Need to breath. Calm. Stop.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her mind mechanically rattled off commands to itself in a logical monotone, but no matter how hard she tried to force herself to feel absolutely nothing, to go numb as she often did when faced with the shouting of her late parents, or the crushing discomfort  that vexed her when she was in a dense crowd or touched when otherwise not wishing to be, Constanze couldn’t calm down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But uh, Lotte.” Amanda was keen to direct attention away from her sister. She could tell that Constanze needed to be alone. “Maybe you and your folks could help me with some healing magic? I’m not that good at it, and I think I fared a lot better than Conz here.” Amanda looked down at her form. Everything hurt. Everything was dull with pain. But, she knew that with time and magic that could fade. Her bones were supposedly all in order; she didn’t feel anything strange in that regard, and nothing else seemed out of place. “If a bit of healing spells can get me back on my feet faster, then I’d wanna give ‘em a try.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“O-Oh! Sure.” Lotte didn’t immediately catch onto Amanda’s reasoning for the redirection in conversation. “You wait here, I’ll get my mom and—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s ok! I’ll c-come….” Amanda stopped as pain gripped her. She forced herself out of bed and onto her feet, looking like she was walking on nails. “W-W-With you….” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Voi luoja!” Lotte and her animated hat-rack recoiled at the sight of Amanda so casually acting as though her injuries simply weren’t present. “A-Are you sure you can stand!? You should lay down!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I-I’m fine… trust… me…. Let’s go! Ok?” Amanda forced herself onward, ignoring the attempts by the hat-rack to gently guide her back to the bed. Lotte followed after them both, doing her best to hold her arms out to hover around Amanda’s back and shoulders, ensuring that she could at least try to catch Amanda should she fall. All the while, they briefly argued about whether or not Amanda was out of her mind. The noises of their conversation faded from the room when the door closed behind Lotte at her silent, magical behest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze was alone now, and she had been staring down at her lap ever since Amanda changed the subject. Everything was white noise to her. She hadn’t even registered that her friends had gone. Her fingers twitched and trembled. She needed something to fiddle with; anything to help her stimulate her senses. If she didn’t distract herself in a physical sense, she felt liable to burst out into screaming just to release all of that pent of energy. A few seconds more of silent staring into her lap passed before Constanze suddenly jerked her hand to where her wand was; the nightstand on her side of the bed had it dangling off the side. She ignored the immediate pain of having moved herself so suddenly and whipped the wand in the direction of her backpack. It slammed into her chest with some force; her spell usage was wanton, just as her rage. She didn’t care.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze dug into it and fished out one of her tools: A sort of small metal box with a few dials on it and a tiny screen; it was used for measuring the presence of magic in certain items or in an area. It wasn’t as useful anymore given magic was now </span>
  <em>
    <span>everywhere</span>
  </em>
  <span> to some extent, but she carried it around just in case. At this moment, it would serve better as an outlet for her stimming. The satisfying clicks of turning the dials, the texture on the knobs, it was satisfying. She took out her adjustable wrench as well for the same reason, and otherwise tossed the pack to the floor with a clatter. The sounds of clanking metal pierced her ears and had her inhaling sharply as it faded. She felt like she was going to vomit, like she couldn’t breath; hyperventilation started to set in. Without further hesitation, Constanze started messing around with dials, knobs, and sprockets. Her breathing was hard and fast at first. Her shoulders felt tenser than ever. In time though, she was able to slowly work her emotional state back down to something more manageable. The breathing was frequent, but less so. Her body felt a little less weighty, and the nausea began to fade, as did the anger. None of it would completely leave though, not yet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It was stupid of me.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze began in thought. She felt more capable of being coherent now that her hands had something to do. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Should have run. Should have listened. But no. I had to kill him. I saw him and I had to kill him. Idiotic. Pointless. Too risky.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Every word was a scolding she felt was well earned. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Told Amanda to be more careful with her life. Can’t even follow my own advice. Needed to think more clearly. Need to stay focused.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Nikolai’s face, the sight of him battling the Fae from a distance, the image that set her off last night, flashed in her consciousness.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “But I can’t. I fucking can’t.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her dial turning sped up. Her scowl deepened. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Everytime I think of that</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>That…. Dieser Abschaumficker! Dieser Bastard! Dieser Hurensohn!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> No insult Constanze could muster, in her first or second languages, satisfied the absolute disdain, the hatred she knew in her bones for Nikolai. His pomp. His arrogance. Every way he swaggered and snickered in the heat of battle. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s all a fucking game to him. I was dead. I should be dead. He wanted to taunt me. He wanted to have fun.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>That was what infuriated Constanze the most. She had come within inches of him. She felt his cold, dead breath, stared him in the eyes, and all he could do was smile and gaze back. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“He wanted me dead. Not quickly. Fucking psychopath.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze felt one of the dials snap as she turned it hard one too many times. Her shoulders slumped as her attention was brought down to her lap by the sudden noise. It interrupted her thoughts like the tiniest thunderclap. “Mmmm….” Constanze sighed, lifted her hand gingerly away from the device, and magicked it back together with simple repairing spells. “Breathe.... Just breathe….” Constanze couldn’t though, not easily. Even then her lungs felt heavy on the rise, and heavier on the fall. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Mein gott I wish Sucy was here!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda could help her a lot, but there was nothing quite like the serenity Sucy bought with her, and Constanze </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed</span>
  </em>
  <span> her right now. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Verdammt all! If she’s so much as scratched I’ll</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The rage rose again. The tenseness in her shoulders returned. Heat rose from her body in waves.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “He was lucky! He lost a hand. That’s nothing compared to what he’ll lose next time. I’ll make him</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Make him….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The nausea only got worse. She wanted to continue to that dark place where the sadistic thoughts resided. They were a release of sorts from the rage she felt.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Gott verdammt….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Alas, she was not as cruel as the man who wished her dead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze continued to fiddle with the dials and sprockets, but at a slower pace now. Her eyes became ever so slightly watered. She hated this feeling almost as much as she hated Nikolai. To say that her emotional reserves had been spent, run dry, was an understatement at best. Everything was so numbed by anger and agitation that all else felt inconvenient, and minute. The crushing weight of their current situation only added to this dissociative haze. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“He broke my fucking ribs. Do we have time to sit around for me to heal? Will the barrier hold? How will we get back to England? What about the post Lotte made? Is it getting traction? Are we even safe here?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Worst of all though: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Just how the hell am I going to fix Dyrnwyn and Carnwennan? I’m no witch-smith….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She hadn’t been trained at least, and now they had been cut off from the very location in which she learned of the arts' very existence. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I… I need a forge song, but I never…. Did I?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze couldn’t even remember what day it was, let alone if a tune had ever made itself known to her amidst her witch-gineering. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Why...? Why does it all have to happen at once?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not even stimming brought her sanity anymore. The absolutely tectonic weight upon Constanze was just too much for her. Her hands went lip; the tools dropped to her lap, and she sobbed openly. She let all of it out: All of the sorrow she’d been bottling ever since she emerged from her room all those days ago, driven by an unwavering aura of spite. The spite did not leave her, but she needed this release. Her tears stained the blanket over her lap, and only did she cease weeping when her body could no longer force itself to. Did an hour pass, or mere minutes? Constanze didn’t feel as though she could even perceive time correctly in this state, and so it was a moot question. Her face was red, downcast, and her hair was draped down far past her shoulders, partially obscuring her teeth-clenching expression. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“There’s no fixing any of this now.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze surmised as she pushed her hair back behind her head before wiping her face clear of dried tears.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “No point in wondering.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her internal monotone returned; she couldn’t stand such intense emotional outbursts for long, even if her body really needed it.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Can’t even think straight. Can’t think at all. Need sleep.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>At least she recognized that acting like nothing was wrong would only hurt her more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With as much care as she could afford, Constanze shimmied herself into a laying down position, hissing and grunting in pain whenever she made a wrong move. Once laid flat on her back, Constanze set aside the stimming tools, food, and wand on her nightstand. Her eyes slowly drifted to the ceiling then, only to dart back to the nightstand. A jewel-eyed skull was staring at her. Constanze didn’t remember it being there earlier. With an annoyed grunt, her magic saw it spun about so that it wasn’t watching her as she tried to sleep. Constanze then went to turn her head away once more, but she blinked, and thus she saw the skull had turned back around to face her. Constanze blinked thrice more and jumped in slight surprise. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Scheiße…. I expect this stuff from Sucy. Not Lotte.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Were it not for her great love of the “queen of questionable chemicals,” Constanze may have been disturbed by this weird skull, but she had seen plenty of weirder things by association with Sucy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, Constanze allowed herself to settle in for further rest. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Please,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She pleaded with herself as her eyes closed.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Just let me wake up with a clear head….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze couldn’t stand being unable to decide anything. The clock was still ticking against them, and now Constanze and Amanda were so very far from Luna Nova. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Just let me not have to think about my family for one day…. Just… for… one day.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sleep came fast, though this was not her final thought before drifting off into merciful slumber. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A familiar voice; imagined? Real? It mattered not. She heard Vaal whisper in her dreams: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Past the screaming, past the sorrows, the memories we must carry on.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her dreams would offer her no release…. But they would offer her a way forward.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>About a half an hour later….</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahhhh…. Much…. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Much</span>
  </em>
  <span> better….” Amanda didn’t ask for a massage. She wasn’t even getting a massage, but the healing powers at work on her were something else. Perhaps it was merely the sudden relief from such constant, aching pains that made everything else seem heavenly. Regardless of the reasoning, Mrs. Janssons magicks, aided by a host of tiny elementals that took on the form of mist clouds no larger than an apple, soothed the flamingo haired witch’s body. They created a sort of fog blanket over Amanda’s form, partially concealing her from the neck down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda had stripped down to just a sleeveless shirt and her pants, having rolled the legs up to reveal all from the mid-thigh down. She was covered in bruises and scabbing cuts. The troll ichor had done the heaviest lifting in terms of wound-care for Amanda, but the bruising and aching needed to be tended to just as well if Amanda and Constanze ever planned to get back on their feet anytime soon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There.” Mrs. Jansson smiled. “You should be fine to sit just like that. If you can keep still, our foggy friends here should be able to see you fighting fit in… oh, a day or two.” She was dressed in her traditional red and white attire; the garb worn by her mother, and her mother before that. Her black hair had kept its color for the most part, but a few strands of grey were beginning to show as age took its course. She stood from beside the reclining-chair bound Amanda’s side, pleased with her own work, and the work of her Fae friends. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If they keep this up I might just stay here forever.” Amanda joked. She opened her left to glance at the mist-bound aides. They were little lights, almost like wisps, but they were clearly solid, earthy cores that radiated magical energies of wind and water. This power coalesced into the mist that surrounded them. They were known as Sumukeiju among the Finnish; sometimes they were called Fog Frolickers. They were gentle, calming spirits that sometimes swarmed to form huge, dense fog layers covering miles of land. It is said that those who wander into Sumukeiju swarms emerge from the fog in a state of bliss, and that when they pass over towns, all troubles fade away for an entire week. Based on what Amanda was experiencing, she might have very well believed that they could cure cancer. They were miracle workers! </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Too bad that’s only kinda true….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Externally, Amanda was at absolute peace. Internally though, there was no bliss to be had. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tales she had heard from Mrs. Jansson of euphoric mists may have recounted details of passers by left in a state of mirth and carefreeness that one might associate with certain smokeables, but those were people who likely didn’t have immense weight bearing down on them at the time of encountering the Sumukeiju. The emotional turmoil remained, and while the physical sensations of the bruises being healed and relieved was glorious, it was merely a distraction from her mental woes, rather than a cure for them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unlike Constanze however, it wasn’t anger that occupied Amanda, per say. She was mad, absolutely. Amanda was furious even! And while Constanze may have been upset with herself a great deal, Amanda’s self loathing was expressed not with knee jerk reactions of great force, or internal tirades filled with toxicity and vitriol. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No, instead, Amanda’s anger came sheerly through disappointment. Her anger was more a rain cloud over her head, a dreary, melancholic thing that drained her will to fight, and reduced her, rather than a storm that tore up her insides. She wanted a drink. She wanted </span>
  <em>
    <span>many</span>
  </em>
  <span> drinks. That was what this weight drove her toward; escapism, rather than a solution. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mercifully, the Sumukeiju were a wondrous form of escapism, but the novelty would wear thin soon, especially as Mrs. Jansson departed to deal with things about the house, and speak with her husband on the matter of their new guests, and how they could help them. The Jansson daughter replaced her mother in that “bedside” position, and Lotte was understandably brimming with concerns and questions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte came beside Amanda with a hesitant smile. She wanted to seem upbeat, though she was anything but. “I’m glad you’re starting to feel better…. Would… that mean you’re alright to talk?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was fine to talk before wasn’t I?” Amanda put on a smile of her own, though it was less forced. She was glad to speak. It was another distraction from the voices that rang out in her head:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re just as pathetic as you were when you were a child! Honestly, why did we even bother?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her mother scolded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“This is what you get for delinquency, Amanda! I knew we should have had you gutted when we learned you were going to come out a girl. Or maybe we shouldn’t have been so generous with your punishments. We knocked the sense into your two brothers after all.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her father spat venom in her mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“If there’s anything we’re to blame for, it’s that we didn’t beat the degeneracy out of you!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her brothers were no more helpful. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Did she actually think that she could make a difference?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“She always was a hopeless dreamer…. Remember what she used to write in her diary?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What? About all of the stupid little adventures she was going to go on?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Haha! Yeah! Well look at her now! She’s gotten just what she asked for!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What did I always use to say about her?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Play stupid games….”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s it! Win stupid prizes!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The whole family descended into laughter. Amanda felt a bead of sweat roll down her face, masked by the wetness of the misty elementals beside her. “So what did you wanna talk about?” It all went by in her head in a matter of milliseconds. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Were it not for the soothing mists, Amanda would be a hellish wreck, and even then, she was barely able to keep composure in her tone, and Lotte could tell that something was up. “It’s… just about….” Though Lotte didn’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> Amanda was upset, only that she was in dire straits. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Hopefully it's just the usual….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> And by “usual,” Lotte meant the whole stress regarding the Bathory's attack on Luna Nova, rather than any particular personal issue. “Well it’s two things, really.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“S-Sure, go ahead.” Amanda wiped away the beads of sweat on her forehead with some haste. She tried to block out the voices as best she could, but they were ever persistent. “I mean, if you want. You seem kinda… worried.” Hopefully this wouldn’t be more bad news. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course I’m worried!” Lotte stated as-a-matter-of-factly, and with a hint of exhaustion. “This is maybe the most stressful time in my life! I feel like I haven’t been calm since… well… when the news came in about Ludinghal….” She had been able to sleep, but to say that it had been easy would be a lie. Lotte’s hands were held clasped together in her lap as she sat down on a chair that pulled up beside Amanda’s reclining chair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda sighed. She should have expected a response like that. “What did you wanna talk about though? Like, what specifically has you worried right now?” Amanda shifted minutely in her seat, and the mists adjusted to follow her movements. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“First off,” Lotte paused to take a quick breath, gathering her confidence so that she could look Amanda in the eyes. “I’ve run into some problems with the post I made.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda blinked. “Problems…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“People don’t believe me, and I can’t blame them, but….” Lotte trailed off, prompting Amanda to try to fill in the blanks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But you don’t really have a way to prove what’s going on?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmmm…. Yes and no.” Lotte sighed. Her eyes drifted off into nothing, turned at a slight downward angle; her confidence didn’t last. “The attacks all over England and France are proof enough to most that something’s going on around there, but people aren’t buying the whole Bathory part. And, I mean, why would they?” Lotte shook her head. “A bunch of vampires with an army of mind controlled Fae arriving at Luna Nova in a blimp with a castle on it? It sounds stupid to me! And we’re living that! How is anyone else going to believe that unless they’re really trusting of some random person on the internet?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you a mod?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I mean, y-yes, yeah I’m a mod, but that doesn't mean I’m suddenly some pillar of the community….” Lotte’s cheeks became flush. “I’m the mod of some stupid fandom forum for a book only read by obsessed weirdos like me. Why should anyone in a more serious forum like the world news stuff trust what I have to say?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Er…. Good… point….” Amanda cleared her throat. “But uh, you’re fandom or whatever isn’t stupid, and you’re not an obssessed weirdo.” Amanda was great at correcting other people when they self deprecated; less so for herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s….” The reddening of Lotte’s cheeks only grew brighter. “That’s not the point!” She huffed. Lotte appreciated the sentiment, but now was not the time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda spoke a bit more firmly now, able to focus further on Lotte’s issues as she briefly set aside her own matters. “Well, what is the point? You said you could and you couldn’t prove it, so why can’t you, and how could you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s complicated….” Lotte shook her head before raising her eyes to meet Amanda’s once more. The flush began to fade as Lotte pushed through the embarrassment of her hobbies. “Based on what people have been saying,” She continued as she pulled up the post itself, scrolling past several comments in a slow manner to let Amanda read them. “They don’t know whether any of this is real, some elaborate prank, or if it's a trap. I don’t know why they’d think it's a trap, but with how weird things have been everywhere….” Weird was perhaps a kind word to use. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Based on what Amanda and Lotte were reading, many Vexers were concerned that this might be some attempt to isolate and capture many witches by some armed force; possibly the English or French government. While it may have seemed like a tin-foil hat worthy conspiracy, many commenters were referencing various events that corroborated this kind of suspicion. Many cities were in a state of crisis as more nations considered uniting under a coalition headed by Speartip-Security, the German FIS and armed forces, and other smaller para-military and research agencies that aligned themselves with Speartip. Soon, an entire “war-council” would be formed, composed of officials from all of the nations who joined in with Speartip.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Even if all of this stuff you’re talking about is real op, how tf are we supposed to help? If this is real, sure, it's definitely important, and I hope you guys get the help you need, but come on.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>This poster had their country of origin listed as the USA. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Here in NYC, we’re already starting to see weird shit go down. Our mayor just invited a creep from that Speartip agency to come meet with him to discuss ‘city safety.’ I was at a protest for the meeting with some other city witches and Fae I knew, and stuff broke down fast. Now we’re on a strict curfew, and I think those military looking goons everywhere aren’t just the normal police SWAT. The uniforms are all different, but they don’t have any typical badges. Long story short, we have our own problems.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Geez….” Amanda sighed deeply. It had been a long time since she’d been to the states. She liked having an entire ocean between her and her family, and now she was even less keen about going back. What was worse though was the fact that several other commenters reiterated the above commenter’s opinion: Many places were already gripped in a sort of chaos as various nations began to heavily crack down on the very existence of magical beings and items. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m not very good at this whole witch-net thing yet,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A poster from Germany began. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“So bear with me. I’m pretty old now, and I’ve seen a lot in my life. I’m not exaggerating when I say that the riot that occurred down in Munich was maybe one of the most frightening experiences of my life.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Munich…?” Amanda remembered back to last night. She and Constanze both had seen visions of the place as they travelled through the ley-line. Amanda had been able to recognize the location from her own past visit to Munich: The protest seemed to be occurring near the city center. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y-You haven’t heard since you were asleep,” Lotte began uneasily. “But they were talking about it on the radio when I came down for breakfast…. Munich, Berlin, Stuttgart, and Frankfurt all saw huge protests last night. Apparently things had been getting bad there for a few days now but….” She choked on the words that followed. “It all came to a head last night. We had to turn the radio off. We… we couldn’t listen to it anymore.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda held her own forehead with a hand. She leaned to one side in the chair and looked despondently out into nothing. She saw soldiers; there was no other way to describe them. They carried rifles bearing enough munitions to gun down the whole crowd and then some. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Came to a head….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda repeated Lotte’s words in her mind bitterly. Her eyes drifted back to the witch-net display to read the rest of the post from the Munich witch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I lost a dear friend that day. I don’t know what to do now, but I know I have to leave the city. It’s no longer safe here for me. I pray to the Nine that Luna Nova gets the help it needs, but I don’t think I can offer it. I don’t know who can. Everything’s falling apart around us, and everyone is just trying to survive. I hope you understand. I’m sorry.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Christ….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was just as Amanda feared. She didn’t need to imagine any further what went down. Her despairing was interrupted by one of the Sumukeiju. It chimed and chirped like a strange little instrument beside Amanda before rubbing its earthy core up against her cheek. Amanda couldn’t help but chuckle from the tickling sensation. “H-Hey… it’s alright. I’ll… I’ll be fine.” The elemental chirped and whirred again, almost purring like a cat. It just wanted to help and heal as much as possible. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte couldn’t help but smile either, though it didn’t last. “So yeah…. It’s… not looking good for us.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s gotta be a way to turn this around though. I know we ain’t about to show up to an empty Porthcurno. We’ll have people willing to fight there, I know it.” Amanda had to stay strong in her faith of others, for she lacked all faith in herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How though?” Lotte sounded like she was on the verge of crying now, though she held it together. “They don’t even believe us! How are we going to convince them that this is real? And what about the people who do believe us, but can’t afford to come help? How’re we going to convince them? Should we even try?” Lotte felt almost guilty for asking for aid when faced with the news from around the world. It was fruitless to compare tragedies as “better or worse,” Lotte knew that, but the guilt remained anyway, no matter how plainly irrational it was. “We don’t even know where to go from here, Amanda…. That was the second thing I was worried about. Even if we were getting some help, what now?”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amanda didn’t have any immediate answers. Both of them sat in silence as Lottes’ questions hung in the air. Amanda’s focus was brought unwittingly inward. Her self directed deprecations had come back with avengence. She felt powerless, and without a hope to change the way things were. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You couldn’t even pass those stupid trials. How the hell are you gonna hope to win any sort of fight? You fucked up for the final time, and now Hannah and Barbara are gonna pay for it. So is Conz, and Sucy, and everyone!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her own voice scolded her with wrath and sorrow in its tone. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“When are you going to stop playing games and messing things up? When are you going to be the Amanda-Freakin-O’Neill you like to brag about being?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up….” Amanda whispered to herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-Wha…?” Lotte thought she heard something. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Come on, are you going to let those pieces of shit be right about you?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The voice continued. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Was your family right? Are you a worthless failure? You sure as hell look like it sitting there, all bitchy and sore!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut. Up.” Amanda said aloud, not realizing she was even doing that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A-Amanda?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh!?” Amanda snapped to attention as the voice vanished. She looked to Lotte with embarrassment. “S-Sorry….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte scooted closer to Amanda. She didn’t like the look on her friend’s face. It spoke to deeper issues. “Amanda…. Are you ok?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ye—No…. I….” Amanda fumbled for an answer. “Can…. Can I have a drink? I-I really need one right now.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“O-Oh, um, sure.” Lotte didn’t know exactly how to react to the sudden shift in subject, but she suspected that Amanda just needed a little help in calming down, and she didn’t think a little booze would do Amanda any harm. Lotte stood, made for the kitchen, and returned for a simple brand-name brown bottle, cold as ice. “Here you go.” She handed it off gingerly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda stared at it for a moment. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Fuck me, but I need this.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Then she reached out, took it with some haste, popped it open, and chugged more than half of the bottle in one go. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“H-Hey! Slow down!” Lotte went unheeded as she sat back down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda eventually set the bottle on a counter beside her chair with a clank. She had drunk two thirds of it at an alarming speed, and she was already feeling a little better. That said, she was kicking herself ever harder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“So what was that promise you made to Hannah and Barbara again?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her antagonizing voice asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“They’re not fucking puritans. They’d make an exception for a time like this.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Amanda’s direct conscience reasoned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sure, sure, let’s just keep making excuses like we have about everything else.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh fuck you.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Go ahead! Say it! Fuck me! I’m you after all you stupid bi</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you wanna talk about something?” Lotte interrupted suddenly. “Like, something that’s got you down…. I remember you acted like this a few times in the past before…. You know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can say it.” Amanda murmured. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Before you got expelled, I mean.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…. And I’m not proud about it.” Amanda shook her head, holding her face with both hands to wipe it clear. “I wasn’t back then, and I’m not proud now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, what’s got you upset now?” Lotte scooted closer once more. “Maybe I can help.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I already talked to Conz about it…. I just need—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s never bad to get more than one perspective, Amanda.” Mrs. Jansson entered the room, her arms held behind her back, her face alight with a faint, caring smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte waved nervously. “O-Oh! Hi mom.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey Mrs. J….” That’s what Amanda called Lotte’s parents at least; Mr. and Mrs. J. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry for eavesdropping, but I couldn’t really help it.” Mrs. Jansson stood now on the side of the reclining chair opposite of Lotte. “The walls have never been that thick, you know.” Both younger witches chuckled at that. Mrs. Jansson continued. “Before I start poking my nose where I probably shouldn’t, I wanted to say that me and your father are here for you and your friends for any and all reasons.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aww…. Mama….” Lotte sniffled. She knew her parents loved her to death, but Lotte was always of weak heart when it came to such gestures. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda smiled, but the gesture stung in a strange way. Amanda couldn’t make exact sense of it, but the offering of love and support from a motherly figure; it </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span> more than it helped. Amanda wasn’t about to even begin to unpack that though. “Thanks Mrs. J. Appreciated.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I ask about what you’ve been going through then, Amanda?” Amanda turned her head at Mrs. Janssons question. She seemed surprised. Mrs. Jansson smiled. “Well, I don’t think I’ll be able to help directly in your fight, but maybe I could offer you a little help with a different kind of battle.” She willed a stool under her as she sat down gracefully before adjusting her glasses and hat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Amanda understood now what she meant. “Yeah, yeah…. That…. I mean, like I said, I spoke to Conz about it…. And I know maybe some different perspectives will help but—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hold on Amanda.” Mrs. Jansson cautioned calmly. “Let’s start from the beginning: Why are you upset?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda pursed her lips and sighed. “Can I give you the short version? I’m really tired, and I feel like going over every detail is just gonna make me feel shittier.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course!” Mrs. Jansson beamed in a way that only she could. She radiated pure and cheerful energies. “Do whatever makes you feel better.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda gulped at that. Finishing off the beer would make her feel better, but it wasn’t the happiness she wanted. “Right…. So to keep things kinda simple, I just don’t trust myself with shit anymore.” Lotte and Mrs. Jansson both listened intently.  As Amanda went on, her knuckles dug into the arms of her chair. “I feel like I’m a failure. That I’m worthless, and that I’m gonna fuck everything up. I already fucked up my education, I fucked up my childhood, and now I’m gonna fuck up—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shhhh, easy there Amanda.” Something about the way Mrs. Jansson spoke, coupled with the way the Sumukeiju comforted her with rubs and chirps stopped Amanda dead in her tracks. She knew that she was spiralling now, and that it needed to stop if she wanted to change anything for the better. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry…. I get carried away like that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s ok, Amanda.” Said Lotte, leaning in to put a hand on Amanda’s shoulder for comfort. “If it’s any help, I don’t think you… messed up,” Lotte tried not to swear very often. “Your education. School isn’t for everyone you know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm. She’s right.” Mrs. Jansson added. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but…. I ended up just being a weird hobo….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, if I’m not a weird and obsessed fangirl, then you’re not a weird hobo.” Lotte joked, trying to lift her friend’s spirit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eheh…. Thanks.” Luckily, it was kind of working. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hobo?” Mrs. Jansson giggled. “If I’m remembering right, you were more like a cowboy. You know, like from your American Westerns.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, mom, don’t.” Lotte stifled a laugh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span> we go….” Amanda remembered how this went. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though the situation was dire, Mrs. Janssons sweet energies couldn’t be surprised. She imitated the scowl of some gun-toting, white-hat horseman, and put on a </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrible</span>
  </em>
  <span> Texan accent. “You went ‘round tuh all sorts’a places, ridin’ on yer trusty steed with the wind at yer back in search’a treasure.” Perhaps it was inappropriate to joke around at all in a time like this, but Mrs. Jansson suspected that Amanda hadn’t had a genuine laugh in quite some time, and she believed that without a spell of levity to give someone a break, that it would be very difficult to combat the internal woes of doubt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pffffft!” Amanda keeled over in her seat. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Treasure!?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mom! That’s what pirates do!” Now Lotte was embarrassed in a good way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“O-Oh! Right!” Mrs. Jansson laughed, and they laughed with her. Her plan was working. Now to speak more directly to Amanda’s issue; without the terrible accent, of course. “Anyways! What I really mean is this, Amanda:” Again, they listened intently. “You’ve so many talents that you probably don’t even recognize. You’re a wonderful witch, and a wonderful woman, who has done, and no doubt </span>
  <em>
    <span>will do</span>
  </em>
  <span> wonderful things.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte smiled wide, though the words gnawed at her own mind in all of the wrong ways. Her mother knew nothing of Lotte’s own emotional woes; it was by mere chance that the words applied to both of them. For now, Lotte would not act on it. The problem would be tucked away for another time, another place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda sighed, smiling as well. “I appreciate it, but if a few kind words were gonna solve this, then I wouldn’t be feelin’ so messed up right now.” She tried to sound as genuinely appreciative as possible, but she turned her head away,fearing she’d insulted Mrs. Jansson. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh I know.” Mrs. Jansson didn’t seem to mind though. “But sometimes we need to trick our brains with the truth.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Trick them… with… the truth?” Amanda cocked her head, facing Mrs. Jansson again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm!’ She nodded agreeably. “You see, I think you’re likely hearing some nasty, no good part of your head that’s telling you all sorts of lies. Am I right?” Amanda’s smile slowly faded. She couldn’t respond with a word, so she did so with a nod. “Do you know how I know that?” Amanda shook her head in the negative. “Maybe I’m wrong, but I think </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> has to deal with that every now and then.” Mrs. Jansson placed a hand gingerly on Amanda’s own. “You see, I do that to myself sometimes too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Amanda seemed hopeful. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm! And I bet my daughter here does the same thing…. Am I right, my little kullanmuru?” Mrs. Jansson looked to Lotte expectantly, with a motherly smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte blushed at the endearing term thrown her way. “Yeah…. I guess.” Lotte, again, didn’t like how accurate her mother was at unwittingly pinning down Lotte’s anxieties. It was a shot in the dark, and her mother didn’t suspect Lotte to have any great emotional struggle brewing in her, but she just kept striking the issue anyway. Again, she would have to ignore it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“This is about Amanda, not me.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She said to herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Why would it be? Nothing’s ever really about</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>No! No. Don’t.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A silent scolding, invisible to all, stymied Lotte’s inner struggle for the night. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok, well, it’s—” Amanda faltered in her retort. She didn’t want to be stubborn for the sake of it, but such was her natural inclination. “It’s nice to know you can empathize, but…. Are you sure you go through what I do? And even then, it doesn’t really help me stop it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“One step at a time, Amanda.” Mrs. Jansson lovingly squeezed her hand over Amanda’s own. “Maybe what I go through is different, sure, but a little advice never hurt now did it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda sighed. She slumped back into her seat, relaxing in the misty aid of the Sumukeiju. “Fair enough.” Her eyes drifted to the nearly empty beer bottle. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“May as well finish it….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> And so she did. She was, at least, a little less desperate in the speed of her sipping, doing so every once in a while rather than downing it all in one big chug. “I’ll take any help I can get.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excellent!” Mrs. Jansson clapped her hands together once. She was bright like the sun, and just as warm and comforting as a plain summer day. “I usually try to handle this kind of problem in two ways: One, whenever I catch myself in a bad moment where I’m not being very fair to myself, I tell myself why I’m wrong about that, and then I say a good thing about myself instead!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda chuckled. “That’s what Conz told me to do.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, have you tried it?” Silence followed. Mrs. Jansson leaned in a tad and silence continued to dominate the room. Amanda turned her gaze aside. “Now how do you know if it’s going to work or not if you don’t try it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not like it's easy to be all self-helpy when you’re trying not to get killed by vampires.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You make a good point, but it’s never too late to start. And, since you’ll need a few days to recuperate, I think you’ll have plenty of chances to start practicing.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda couldn’t deny that truth. She nodded. “I’ll give it a go, but no promises it’ll do shit for me. I’ve kinda had this issue ever since…. I’ve had it for a long time.” She’d rather not even mention the familial aspect of this; not to Mrs. Jansson, at least. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hope it’s good for you.” Mrs. Jansson nodded. “Now, the second thing I was going to suggest is this:” She paused to clear her throat. “Any time you start to feel like you’re about to start beating yourself up, you should stop and ask yourself, out loud if it helps, ‘How is this going to help me?’ Ask yourself that, and if you realize that it won’t help you, then start thinking of something else that </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> help you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So…. Basically, just keep myself grounded?” This all seemed too easy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s what the goal is, but it’s the method that matters.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And how does that method help me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you tried it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How could I? You just told me—” Mrs. Jansson smiled at Amanda with knowing eyes; it cut off her words. “No….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then you know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah.” Amanda rolled her eyes and chuckled, taking another sip from her bottle. “For real though: What’s the point of doing that? Can you at least explain that part so I know what’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to happen? Vaguely?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hopefully it’ll help you redirect away from whatever nasty thing you were going to say to yourself before you stopped and reconsidered. As long as you stay focused on what matters, I don’t doubt that you girls could change anything.” Amanda and Lotte both smiled at that, though the latter wasn’t sure she liked the word “girl” being used for her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like I said before: I’ll give it a shot.” Amanda had nothing to lose, after all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Splendid! I know it won’t help much in the short term, but these kinds of things take time…. Think of it as….” Mrs. Jansson pulled her hand away from Amanda and rubbed her chin. “Think of it like training your brain. You’re teaching it how not to do one thing, and how to do something else instead.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda liked the sound of that. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Gonna have to follow through on that though.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She said to herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“No point saying you’d do something and then not doing it.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda's eyes once again drifted to her beer bottle. It was just about empty now. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“My one and only until we finish this fight.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Amanda set it aside, breathing in heavily once; her expression was resolute. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I can drink when I’m dead, or at the after party.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A bit of morbid humor wasn’t undue in a situation like this. “Thanks Mrs. J.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re very welcome!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I hope I helped.” Lotte added, breaking from her silence only then. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just you bein’ around’s helpful, Lotte.” Amanda wearily lifted a thumb up through the mist. Her arm didn’t hurt, but she still felt quite weak. “Though, I gotta ask, Mrs. J.” Mrs. Jansson had risen to her feet by now, and was about to walk off to the kitchen to prepare a few potions with her husband when Amanda caught her ear. She cocked her head in Amanda’s direction before the flamingo haired witch asked: “How do you stay so cheery when things get so bad? I think I’ve only seen you and Mr. J frown like, twice.” The second time was most recently, when she saw them after her and Constanze entered through the portal, and the first was related to an unsightly accident involving Akko, and an exploding dish of food that she had prepared alongside Sucy one summer. Needless to say, it was inedible. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrs. Jansson laughed softly at the question. “You know, you weren’t here for when Lotte told me about what happened.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda looked to Lotte as Mrs. Jansson did the same. Lotte rubbed the back of her head warily. “Oh, right. It was… a rough night.” Lotte hadn’t seen her parents out of grief cry until then. “Mama was devastated, and papa almost walked out into a snowstorm with his ax.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-Wow…. Uh…. Why did he—?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was gonna show those bloodsuckers what happens when someone messes with my baby girl and her friends!” Mr. Jansson said as he came behind Lotte from the door to the kitchen. He was a very quiet man for how huge he was. He was able to sneak up on Lotte and pick her right up off of the chair and hold her a solid three feet off the ground, bringing her up to his shoulders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte immediately squealed and flailed with the expected amount of concern for her sudden man-handling. “P-Papa! We taaaaalked about thiiiiiis!” Her words became drawn out as Mr. Jansson spun his daughter once around in a twirling hug that rivaled Jasminka in strength. Then he set her back on the chair, dizzied and reeling. “Ugh….” Mr. Jansson had a big dumb grin on his face as he regarded Amanda, only for him to be brought low to his wife’s height by a pinch on the ear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrs. Jansson’s smile grew wider, warmer; her eyes closed. “Lotte </span>
  <em>
    <span>warned you</span>
  </em>
  <span> about throwing her around, Eemil.” She had Mr. Jansson, or Eemil Jansson, in a bind, one that had him twitching and stuttering in acute pain. Amanda couldn’t help but howl with laughter at the display.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A-A-Ah! Tch-tch! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Lotte! Please forgive papa so A-A-A-TATAT!” Mr. Jansson trailed off as his ear was twisted hard. “I won’t do it again! Unless you ask! Promise!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte stifled a laugh once more, her vision had mercifully undizzied itself fast. “I-I forgive you, papa.” And with that, Mrs. Jansson let her husband go. He took a great sigh of relief as he rubbed his ear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh…. Phew…. Thank you dear.” Mr. Jansson chuckled. “Now, how’re you two holding up? Where’s Conzy?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahah…. Aaaahhhh…. After getting to see that, Mr. J? I’m great.” Amanda spoke for them both as she trailed off from her laughter. “Being serious though, we’re getting by.” Amanda nodded. “It’s a little tricky right now, but…. But I think me, Lotte, and Conz will figure things out. We just need some time.” Amanda paused, realizing Mr. Jansson had asked two questions. “Oh, and Conz is resting up in bed some more. She came outta that night </span>
  <em>
    <span>a lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> worse than I did.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For sure, for sure.” Mr. Jansson pulled out a smoking pipe from his strapped pants and popped it in his mouth casually. He went to fetch something to light it then, but Amanda spotted him with a snap of her fingers. “Ohhh! Hah! Much obliged!” Mr. Jansson swiveled the pipe to the other corner of his mouth and inhaled deeply before pulling the pipe out and blowing a puff away with a satisfied smile. “Now, where was I…. Ah! Right!” Mr. Jansson cleared his throat. “I was going to say that you three shouldn’t worry about us. You all have a lot of responsibility on your plates as is. Times are though, but you can trust us to keep a level head!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda smirked. “Level headed enough not to try to walk to England with an ax to go fight vampires?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrs. Jansson and Lotte giggled while Mr. Jansson fumbled with his pipe. “O-Of course! I would nev…. Well I…. We all have moments of weakness! What’s important is that we’re never alone, so we always have someone to pull us out of those dangerous situations.” He managed to salvage that into quite the useful lesson, at the least. “It’s just like you said, Amanda! With the three of you together now, I’m sure you’ll be able to solve any problem that comes your way! Nothing holds my </span>
  <span>söpöliini and her friends back!” A ruffling hand frazzled Lotte’s hair a great deal. Lotte squinted hard and held still, looking strangely uncomfortable in the way one might look after a dog licked their face unexpectedly. A wide smile and glare from his wife had Mr. Jansson fixing Lotte’s messed up locks as best he could while chuckling weakly. Once he’d done a decent enough job, Mrs. Jansson gave a thumbs up, allowing Mr. Jansson to breathe easy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte exhaled sharply, glad that her hair wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>completely</span>
  </em>
  <span> in disarray now. “A-Anyways…. Speaking of rest, we should probably let you both get some more.” Lotte rose from her seat beside Amanda, continuing to speak. “But before I let you sleep more, would you be able to help me with editing that post? I was serious about being worried that we won’t get much help.” Lotte didn’t mind that they had veered off into more personal topics, as it was clearly important to Amanda, and actively impeding her ability to be more helpful to the immediate cause, but Lotte knew that they had to stay objective oriented. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Course! Just uh… bring your crystal ball down or something. Maybe if Conz wakes up soon she can help out too.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Got it!’ Lotte was quick to hurry off to her room in search of her crystal ball. Mr. And Mrs. Jansson both also made to leave after giving quick goodbyes to Amanda. They were off to market to pick up more ingredients, and some supplies for Amanda and Constanze. If the trio was likely to depart in a few days, then they might need a good deal of food for the road! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That left Amanda alone for a few minutes. All was quiet at first, but the voices in her head wouldn’t leave it like that for long: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Look at her: She’s so weak she can’t even stand.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her mother shrilly remarked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“If she can’t handle this pain, how is she going to handle fighting anything?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her father chortled mockingly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s all because I wasn’t strong en</span>
  </em>
  <span>—” Amanda cut the negative voice in her head off. She took a deep breath and retorted against the nay-saying. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Maybe I wasn’t strong enough, but we lasted a damn long time for what we were up against…. We can get stronger. I can get stronger.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She tried to put Constanze and Mrs. Jansson’s principles to work. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“We just need time… time to… recover. Time to get our shit straight, and figure out what we’re going to do.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The voices came again a messy cacophony.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Too late for that!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’ll never live up to what we wanted you to be!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’ll always fall short.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You could’ve been smart and fell in line all those years ago, but no!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Just like you, this’ll all be a waste of time.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda shuddered. She felt her heart catch in her throat. Her knuckles were tightly clenched, and her breathing was sharp. She forced herself to continue the resistance. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m not a waste. Constanze doesn’t think that, Hannah doesn’t think that, Barbara doesn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“They don’t even love you! You’re just playing yourself like you do every</span>
  </em>
  <span>—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“They love me, and I love them! And I’m going to prove that! And we’re going to make things work!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. A chill wind came from the Sumukeiju as they rubbed against her, sensing her rising distress. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Fuck it if I’m not strong enough. Fuck it if I’m not smart enough. Fuck it if I know don’t what I’m doing. What matters is that I’m never giving up. Fuck all of you, and fuck everything you stand for!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The voices were defeated for a time. Her words were powerful, and her conviction had hardened. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You’ll have to kill me if you wanna win….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She said to the nay-saying voices, and in a sense, to the Bathorys and the wyrd sisters. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“And like hell am I gonna make that easy for you.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, she was fighting back with confidence in her stride. It wasn't her own confidence, not yet.  It would take more time to fully cultivate that trust in herself. For now though, the trust from others, from Constanze, Lotte, Mrs. Jansson; that would do. That would keep her going. Amanda practiced this a little more for a few minutes. She tried complimenting herself, explaining to herself how spiralling negatively wouldn’t solve anything, so on and so forth. It helped turn what would have been a five minute wait that felt like five hours into a five minute wait that felt like it took ten minutes. Quite the improvement. It wasn’t perfect, and it was tiring to force herself to self correct inwardly, but it was better than sulking. Amanda never liked </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> crying, and while she didn’t think it weak of her to cry, she preferred to shed tears when she was throwing punches. At least then, she knew she was fighting back against something. Now she had the means to fight back against </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>, whatever it was; trauma, doubt, depression, the name didn’t matter right now. The struggle is what mattered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Lotte returned with her crystal ball at the ready, Amanda was able to keep calm, holding the voices at bay for most of the duration of their following discussion. Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost</span>
  </em>
  <span> all of the voices. One haunted her, but in a way that differed from the others; she couldn’t dissuade it, nor did she want to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The fire in her heart spoke to her through a sensation in the skin; a heat in the head. Jehanne’s voice whispered to her words of wisdom she offered the day prior, down in by Balefire. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Every fighter knows that she is stronger when there is only peace to rule her mind.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She would have to take those words sincerely if she wanted to see her loved ones saved. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>About an hour later….</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze writhed in the blankets. She could barely move, even in a sleeping state, due to her broken ribs. Despite having slept all night before without issue, she was wrapt up in some sort of terror filled dream. She hadn’t been sleeping long, but it felt like she’d been stuck in this nightmare for hours. The details were hazy, even as it happened. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai was there, as were many faceless vampire knights. The location was foggy, not in a literal sense, more that it was hard to describe. She thinks her parents were there to, or at least, their corpses were. She didn’t see their bodies directly in the dream, but she knew they were nearby, rotting away. Things made less and less sense as they went on. Everywhere she ran and went, Nikolai and his knights were there, forming barricades, sneering, laughing, drinking the blood of what she assumed was her deceased family. What didn’t make sense to Constanze, even as it was happening, was that Constanze didn’t fear them. She wasn’t afraid of Nikolai, or his goons. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated</span>
  </em>
  <span> them. She hated them more than anything she ever had in her entire life. But she kept running whenever she saw them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In one moment he might be in a forest, in the next she’s at Luna Nova. Another she’s on a nameless highway, and then she’s suddenly in a restaurant she may or may not have visited. Running and running. All she did was run through these scenes like some uncanny flipbook was being overlaid over her vision. Why was she running? She told herself to stop running but she didn’t. She asked herself again and again: Why was she running?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eventually, she felt lucid enough to force her dream-self to stop. Everything was silent, all was black, devoid of sense and stimuli. Was she truly lucid though, or was this just another strange twist in the dream? She didn’t know. She didn’t care. She tried to wake up, but she couldn’t. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze paced and ran in circles, moving as a blur as seconds went by in years and months went by in a blink. Then she stopped. Suddenly, everything </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> quiet anymore. In fact, everything was resounding with a tune. No, not a tune, </span>
  <em>
    <span>a song</span>
  </em>
  <span>. A tapping on the wind. No, there wasn’t wind, but there was whistling, blowing, something putting force against her hair, like a soft whooshing coming from a massive pipe-organ. Dreams like this truly were strange. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze spun about in place. She looked every which way and saw different locales no matter when and how she turned. Even when looking over the same place again, the arena seemed to shift. That was until she was amidst ash and snow. All was either black or white, with the faintest of dirt patches in between and… asphalt? A road, covered by twinkling crystal snowflakes. She looked down the road and saw a sign, one she recognized: This place, these ruins, they were familiar. There were some unburnt, untouched town houses in the distance, but they weren’t pretty looking despite lacking in any obvious damage, save maybe a broken window or two. Yes, indeed, Constanze knew exactly where she was imagining herself now. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Ludinghal….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Or at least what was left of it in this imagined plane. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Wait…. What happened to the song?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Just as she asked herself this, it began again. Only known to her now, the song stopped when she stopped paying attention to it. It was like it was only perceivable so long as she focused on it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Where is it….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> It was coming from everywhere, but it felt louder from some directions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze squinted and read the bent street sign as she turned and faced it. The song was emanating loudly from it; was it the source? </span>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Schulstraße…. That means I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Before Constanze could even rationalize her thought to completion, she was running. Clearly she wasn’t as lucid as she thought. She ran and she ran and everything looked the same, as if she was running on a scenic treadmill. The song only grew louder as she ran until the tune became clear:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Two three one two three three one two three two three one two three two three one two three three….</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On and on it went, and with it, Constanze saw her footfalls matching the tune.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Were those brass instruments? Drums? Synthetics? Elecontrics? Strumming guitars? It was all and none. It was just… music. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pure music</span>
  </em>
  <span>, divorced of instrument, of context, or meaning, just sounds in a rhythm, shifting, changing, but ordered nonetheless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Eventually, everything blurred, and she felt like she took a leaping bound over miles in a single step. She was before her family house and forge: A two piece property connected by a raised stone walkway built out of the higher foundation. This was one of the original homes from when Ludinghal was founded during the middle ages, and the foundation had been kept the same only because it was strangely solid enough despite the age. Almost every other home had been completely torn down and rebuilt at some point, but not the Von Braunschbank home. What felt weirder was the fact that it stood at all. Sure, it may have been toward the edge of town, but if the Bathorys came for her family— </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Just a dream.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze rationalized. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s probably just ash. Couldn’t have survived.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Unless maybe— </span>
  <em>
    <span>“No.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She wouldn’t allow false hope to grow within her. She went to step inside and found herself there before she even reached the door. Her dream logic just kept getting weirder. Then she refocused on the song, and so it appeared. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Two three one two three three one two three two three one two three two three one two three three….</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now it sounded like it was being played with tools; tools Constanze used to build and make. Wrenches, pliers ,hammers, torches, screws, bolts, trusses, jackhammers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Two three one two three three one two three two three one two three two three one two three three….</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was coming from the house, no, the forge! Constanze hurried through the familiar yet alien landscape of her kitchen and living room to make way for the door leading out to the stone path. She stepped over the bridge which grew long and longer as her vision stretched into a kaleidoscopic hell before returning to normal. She came to the open air section of the forge and darted her eyes around. She was breathing heavily and sweating, and heard her heart beating to the strange song's tune. Then she saw it: The small, cramped room, accessible only by a single, old wooden door. She remembered it to be a place that contained all of the tools on nice little racks. It even had a workbench, one that her father set up for her when she showed interest in doing more complicated works on her own. That was her little sanctuary when she was a child; the only other safe place besides the bedroom when her parents were otherwise intolerable. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze bolted to it and reached it in a mercifully mundane amount of time. She burst through the door and found herself faced with an infinite black void. The dimensions without didn’t match the dimensions within, and soon, Constanze realized that the scenery of Ludinghal had gone entirely. The tune faded away into nothing only to be replaced by the hissing laughter of the vampires. Nikolai and his warriors appeared everywhere she looked. Then they all started </span>
  <em>
    <span>becoming</span>
  </em>
  <span> Nikolai. Constanze ran away just as before and— </span>
  <em>
    <span>“No!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> No indeed. Instead, Constanze made the dream go a different route. She turned, squinted fiercely, furrowing her brow, and stood defiantly against the nonsensical crowd of NIkolai’s laughing as they drowned themselves in blood. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m not afraid of them! So why do I want to run…? And why are they laughing!?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze didn’t often have dreams. She enjoyed blissful nothingness on her nights of good sleep, and even on nights when she got bad sleep, dreams were uncommon. That made nightmares a true oddity to her, and she </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated</span>
  </em>
  <span> how illogical they seemed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stared at the laughing hordes for what felt like ages, growing angrier and angrier. What was she supposed to do? Was there a trick to waking up? The only thing that seemed to be changing was her, as she became more and more agitated. By the time she realized that she was changing in more ways than one though, it was too late. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze was now </span>
  <em>
    <span>taller</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She was stronger. She was faster. What </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>she? Constanze didn’t even know, and without a reflective surface…. Well, soon after the carnage began, Constanze was glad she couldn’t see what she was. Limbs were torn. Heads were crushed. Nikolai after Nikolai was rendered unto pulp. She heard howling! Bestial growling! It was monstrous in origin, make no mistake. Constanze couldn’t blink. She had to watch every moment of it. She watched Nikolai die a hundred, no, a thousand times over in so many ways as to make even the most dissociated of serial killers sick. Constanze, or whatever she saw through the eyes of, ripped and teared until it was done.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> When was it done? When the tune began again. The Nikolai copies were infinite, but the rampage seemed to slow and become hesitant when the song started again. She wasn’t even thinking of it this time, but once she heard it, she started to focus on it. Slowly, bit by bit, normalcy returned to the scene. The void became the room she intended to enter. The blood melted away. The bodies vanished. Constanze got shorter, or at least her perspective changed in the blink of an eye. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What…. The fuck….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>That was about all she could muster before she realized that the room was not as she remembered it. No, that wasn’t true. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> as she remembered it, but only now did she realize that her workbench, a solid steel box with a wooden countertop, had a crease where it met the floor. Obviously that was mundane; of course it did, it wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>built into the floor</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but what caught her eye was the fact that the crease wasn’t a shadow, but a space. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The solid, box shaped workbench wasn’t on any supports. It was a brick in shape and weight relative to the size, and Constanze never remembered there being a space under it, but she also wasn’t allowed in there before her father installed the bench, so maybe— </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No! Just stop! Stop! Stop! STOP!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze had enough of this dream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tune faded, and so did the scenery then. Back to the void. Back to the blood. The guts. The violence. This time though, the tune didn’t come to stop her. A terrible ringing sounded in her ears amidst the carnage. It was piercingly loud, so much so that Constanze ferself felt physical pain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was when she woke up. She had rolled over onto her side only to immediately recoil and hiss back onto a flat-lying position. Her eyes shot open, and her breathing was tense. She felt hot all over, and her forehead felt wet with sweat. The pain shot up from her chest and into her shoulders and head. Now everything ached, and Constanze kissed any hope of getting decent sleep goodbye. She couldn’t muster to say anything, in her mind or aloud. All she wanted for was water, and reasoning was beyond her now. She could only clutch at her chest and want for water.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That want soon became a need. Constanze forced herself out of bed, huffing and puffing all the while. She fought through the pain despite all logic dictating she stay in bed and simply call out for aid. Someone would have to hear her, it was a small house after all. But Constanze wasn’t in the mood to talk. She was in the mood for water and absolute silence, and nothing else. She groggily stumbled out of bed, cursing in German all the while. Her stride out of the room was messy and wavering, as though she were drunk or dazed, leading her to shoulder the door open haphazardly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The wooden clacking noise the motion produced caught Lotte and Amanda’s attention. They turned their heads curiously and saw glimpses of Constanze shuffling on toward the kitchen. She looked pained in more ways than one, which immediately set off red flags for Lotte. She set down her crystal ball immediately and called out to her injured friend. “C-Constanze! What’s wrong!?” No response came as Constanze trundled along into the kitchen. The sound of running water from the sink soon followed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lack of an answer got Amanda moving quick. “Motherfff… Conz!” Well, as quick as an aching Amanda could move. She struggled to her feet and awkwardly power walked to the kitchen with Lotte and the Sumukeiju in tow. They arrived to find Constanze struggling to reach a higher up cabinet in search of a glass. “Conz what the hell, you shouldn’t be getting up like that!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm….” Constanze ignored them for now. She was solely focused on curing her desert-dry throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y-Yeah! If you need something, then w-we can just get it for you.” Lotte stepped past Amanda and cautiously approached Constanze. She wasn’t sure exactly what to do about a severely wounded person acting against their own best interest, but she assumed that Constanze might need some help standing, and so she reached out to support Constanze by the shoulder. Sadly, that was one of the worst things Lotte could have done in that instance, at least without warning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze was still in a flight or fight mode from her disturbing and nonsensical dream, and so she reflexively elbowed backward, striking Lotte in the face. “OW! Owowowow!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Conz, what the fuck!?” Suddenly, Constanze was more cognizant of what was going on around her. She painfully twisted her body around to look at what she’d done and saw Lotte holding her nose. It wasn’t a hard hit, but it was enough to stumble the Finnish witch back and knock her glasses to the floor. Amanda was supporting her and giving Constanze a bewildered, but clearly angry stare. “What the hell’s gotten into you?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm!” Constanze’s grunt was one that was panicked and agitated. She hobbled over to Lotte, leaving the sink running with water, and used a simple bit of magic to pick Lotte’s glasses up from the floor. “Mm…! I’m…! Mmmmm…!” Words were hard right now, but she was clearly trying to apologize. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda could only sigh and look on with tired annoyance as Lotte spoke. “It’s ok! I’m fine! I’m fine…. Ow….” Slowly, she pulled her hands away and was relieved to see that her nose wasn’t bleeding. It was merely bruised, and only lightly. “S-Sorry! I-I should have said… something.” Lotte had forgotten how touchy Constanze could be about unwanted physical contact. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze didn’t feel that was a good excuse though. “No. My fault.” Now she was confused, tired, sad, dehydrated, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> mad at herself. What a wonderful day this was. She tried to make amends by stepping toward Lotte and offering her glasses with a twinge of pain from how she moved her body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Lotte put them back on, she took a deep breath and forced a smile. “There…. N-Now, are you alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm….” Constanze shook her head. She wasn’t sure if her own “alrightness” mattered right now. She felt like a real bastard for having hit Lotte like that, even if it was a complete accident. Her mind flashed images of the ripping and the tearing. The blood and guts from her nightmare. Her rage, all consuming, she hated how it took over her a week prior, and now….</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah sis, what’s gotten you all riled?” Amanda rubbed the back of her head as she awkwardly remembered why Constanze was upset in the first place. “I mean, besides the normal shit.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze sighed. Everything went blank then. Her train of thought was sent in every which way, and her brain was too foggy to make immediate sense of things. “Water.” She grunted out in mild pain. “Please?” Once she was more awake, then they would talk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda nodded and shuffled past her sister to reach for the high up glass. She got it all filled up and handed it off to Constanze before putting an arm slowly under her shoulder from the side, being careful to signal to Constanze that she was doing this. Constanze allowed it with a slow nod. She knew that it wasn’t smart to be walking around without help, let alone at all if possible. The trio moved back to the living then, took their seats, and let the time fly by for a few brief, silent minutes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was Amanda who spoke up first. “Ok, so let's cut to the chase: I’m worried about you, sis. I haven’t seen you act like that since—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Since I found out.” Constanze curtly remarked beneath her layer of mist. The Sumukeiju were enveloping her almost entirely, leaving just the upper part of her face clear as she reclined in the chair opposite Amanda. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You mean…” Lotte pressed her pointer fingers together nervously. “About Ludinghal?” She was sat indirectly between the two sisters. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze didn’t respond immediately, opting instead to give a thumbs up before making a writing motion in the air. “Mmm.” Amanda looked around, knowing Constanze wanted for her paper and pen, only to gesture to Lotte in request. Lotte nodded and returned shortly with the pad and pen and handed it off to Constanze. Her writing was masked by the mist, so she had to hold it aloft above the swarm of Sumukeiju. Her expression was inscrutable beneath the fog. “Yes.” That was what she first wrote. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda swallowed back her nerves. “Well, I kinda meant when you nearly broke my nose, but—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She nearly broke your nose!?” Lotte hadn’t exactly been told about that spat; not that she needed to know about it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhhh, long story, I mean, not really, but it doesn’t matter now.” Amanda waved her hands dismissively at the question before pressing on. “Anyways: You know what I mean. I can already tell you’re not yourself with how pissed off you seem, and I get that… y’know, we’ve been through a lot, but we can’t get mucked up in that stuff or else we won’t get anywhere good.” Amanda seemed quite confident in her words, even as she struggled to apply the strategies Constanze and Mrs. Jansson imparted onto her. “And I know you’re working on that whole anger problem, but you’ve gotta let us help you out right—” Amanda paused once she realized that Constanze was feverishly writing beneath the fog. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pad was raised, revealing a message in small print. It was quite detailed, and couldn’t be read from afar. The Sumukeiju were nice enough to levitate it over by “grabbing” it through means unknown to the witches. They brought it over to Amanda, who was soon joined by Lotte scooting her stool over. They read it together: “I’m sorry about lashing out and being moody. I’ve been over what’s been bothering me with you before, Amanda, so I don’t want to repeat myself. For Lotte’s sake I’ll say this: I haven’t taken my family’s death well. You knew that already, but it’s worse than you may have thought. Or it’s better. I don’t know. It sucks.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some scribbles out words broke up the first paragraph from the second: “I’m mad. I’m mad at everything and I just can’t stop feeling that way. Sometimes it goes away and I don’t even realize it, but the second I do it comes back. I felt safer with the Balefire. Now I just feel like garbage. I put us all in danger because I got carried away. I said I wouldn’t let this change me. I wouldn’t let this get in the way of what matters. I failed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda was struck with an unsure expression. She didn’t know how to feel about any of that. “I mean, it makes sense why you did it. I would’ve done it too if—Eh?” Constanze was holding her pen up and her free hand out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Constanze had more to write, though only now did she think up what to say. She was given it back with ease only for it to be returned to the other two a minute later. It read as follows: “I don’t want your forgiveness. You can’t forgive me for that. Neither of you can. And you don’t need to. You shouldn’t have to. I love you Amanda. You’re a great sister and friend, and Lotte, I care a lot about you too, but I need to deal with this. If I don’t, I feel like it’s going to kill me. Or get me killed.” A small water droplet marked the beginning of the next words. Condensation from the misty Fae, or a teardrop? It was impossible to tell. “I can’t take it anymore, but I can’t ignore it either. I need to do something to get over this. I need this to end.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“So let us help you!” Amanda blurted out. She herself had been helped out so much through her own problems, so why couldn’t Constanze have any aid? “Look, when you’ve got someone like me telling you to stop being stubborn, then you </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> it’s a problem.” Amanda gave Constanze a knowing look, one a sister would give her sibling, and no one else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mm….” Constanze hesitated to respond. She melted further into the fog and shook her head. “Mm-mm.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda sighed. “At least give us a reason.” She had bought Constanze’s reasoning before, about the matter being too personal or complicated, but now it was just too much for Amanda to ignore. She had left Constanze to her devices and nothing seemed to be getting better, so she had to stand firm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze was quiet for another moment or so before speaking up in a shaky tone. “I meant what I said. No one can help me. No one but me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aww…. Constanze….” Lotte was at a loss for words. She could only look on at the budding witch-smith with a look of truly deep sorrow and sympathy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, but maybe we can </span>
  <em>
    <span>help you help yourself</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Amanda leaned in, clasping her hands together between her legs. “That’s what you guys have done for me right? You told me yourself: You can’t solve my problems, so I gotta figure it out, but you helped me… figure…. Look I’m not the best at this, but you get my point, right?” In time, Constanze nodded. “Ok, so then let’s… let’s start from square one: What’s got you pissed off?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We… already know that though.” Lotte said as she scratched her head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it. Conz is a real straight shooter: It’ll be better if we take this nice and logically.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze slid back up in her seat, revealing her slightly reddened, but otherwise neutral expression. “Mm-mm.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda blinked and turned back to Constanze. “Eh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze took a deep breath, finding the strength to speak even if she hated to do so right now. “I don’t want to talk right now.” With a simple spell, she took the pad back from across the room with telekinesis and wrote on it a simple message: “In general, and about my problem. I promise I’ll talk later. Just not right now.” The look in her eyes were as genuine as could be. “I’ll be ok until then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That put Amanda and Lotte at ease for now. Both sighed with relief, though only the latter spoke up. “Can you promise to not walk around without help until you’re all better then?” Constanze nodded, prompting Lotte to pause. “Thank you….” Then she mustered a sappy smile. “I-I know that the thing between you and A-Amanda is a little different than what I’m talking about maybe, but…. Isn’t helping each other up when we fall down what family’s for?” She offered a slight shrug as her posture shrank. Maybe Lotte was overstepping her boundaries, for she didn’t feel the same kind of familial tie that Constanze and Amanda did, but she still cared for them both, and the rest of the New Nine, deeply.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sentiment struck both of the sisters in the heart; right on target. It was a wonderful sentiment, and served to alleviate the air of that dreariness that followed both witches around, at least for a time. “Awww, c’mere Lotte!” Amanda leaned over and wrapped an arm around Lotte, and while it was surprising at first, it wasn’t unwelcome. They embraced each other strongly, though Lotte’s grip was far weaker than Amanda’s. When they parted, both looked to Constanze, who couldn’t help but smile ever so softly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm.” Constanze nodded; that was enough for her. She didn’t want a hug right now, but she felt their love and care all the same from their tender gazes alone. It was the only thing that could comfort her inward pain. At least the Sumukeiju were miraculously helpful with the outward pain. “I don’t want to just sit here though,” A note she held up said. “So maybe we could figure out what to do next?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte leaned in, quirking her head to the side. “Shouldn’t you get some rest?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve slept enough.” Constanze wrote onto the pad, biting the inside of her cheek as she remembered back to what woke her up just minutes prior. Then she shook her head and dashed the nightmarish thoughts away. “I’m restless. Need something to do.” The words were clear enough, and they masked the reason that she was so unsettled by the prospect of sleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Amanda began. “Me and Lotte were working on that thread she put up. Remember?” Amanda grunted in slight pain as she moved her chair closer to the table in between the trio. The crystal ball was still laid bare, though it was powered down now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm.” Constanze nodded. She stayed where she was. Moving was out of the question now. She felt too physically relaxed to change positions. “The problem?” She mumbled out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I went over it with Amanda, so sorry if I’m a bit brief, but uh….” Lotte took a moment to pull her stool over to the table, activate the crystal ball with a tap of her wand, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Pera pera.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>and open up witch-net to the thread in question. Then she continued. “Things… a-aren’t looking great.” The screen said it all: Doubting witches, already pre-occupied sorcerers; the world was in turmoil in one way or another, and the Bathorys siege on Luna Nova was either a hoax or just another tragedy to add onto the ever growing pile. “We tried talking to some people, and we managed to convince some of the people who were unsure about helping but wanted to, but everyone else….” Lotte wasn’t sure what to do about them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s been rough.” Amanda picked up where Lotte left off. “I’m not too worried about the folks who’re stuck with their own problems. You won’t ever hear me saying you shouldn’t take care of your own home first, but this shit’s serious.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The others?’ Constanze raised a brow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They don’t believe us. They think it’s a hoax!” Amanda threw her hands up in defeat. “And it ain’t like we have any way of getting footage to prove it…. Safely, at least.” Amanda had considered, and even propositioned Lotte to go grab photos of Castle Bathory herself, but Lotte talked her down from the idea. It was far too dangerous, even for a broom riding whiz such as Amanda. She had to agree with Lotte's objections: Constanze was right when she said Amanda was sometimes blind to danger, or otherwise didn’t care about herself, and Amanda wasn’t going to ignore how right Constanze was by blowing off Lotte’s critique. “So we’re kind of at a loss about what to do. We thought of making a video or something to prove it somehow…. You said we could do a Q&amp;A, right?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A Q&amp;A? Really?” Constanze looked puzzled beyond belief. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“T-That’s not what I said!” Lotte shook her head thrice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda sighed. “Then what did you say?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I said it would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> a Q&amp;A…. We’d get a live stream going, answer peoples questions, and try and prove that what we’re going through is real.” Lotte adjusted her glasses with two fingers before she started idly scrolling down the long thread of comments. “It would show we’re not afraid to say it to their faces. And we can… I dunno, prove that we’re not in it for money or something stupid.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Money? How the hell would we get money out of this? Who the fuck goes online and—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze cut her sister off with a roll of the eyes and droll remark. “I can’t believe someone might be worried that people lie on the internet.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda zipped her lips shut. She looked down at her lap and crossed her arms about her chest. “Look, I made my point. We got nothing to get out of this except our friends' lives.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A note from Constanze countered Amanda’s argument. “They don’t know that. Can’t assume anything these days. Especially things you find online.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine, fine, but how’s a livestream going to prove that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s just an idea.” Lotte defensively chided. “Everything else we’ve thought up of doesn’t even work in theory, so why not give the stream a try?” Her frustrations were starting to get to her. Lotte was patient, but nothing was infinite. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would anyone even watch it?” Amanda queried, sounding a little frustrated herself now. She wasn’t mad at Lotte, but she hated fussing over details like this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-Well they read the thread so probably!” Lotte huffed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze stepped in then. Not literally, but her notepad caught their attention once she whistled for them to look over at her. It read: “I don’t think a livestream would work, but—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Told you.” Amanda quipped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte’s cheeks reddened slightly. “Y-You don’t need to be rude about it! We’re supposed to be working together!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm!” Constanze reached up to triple underline the word “but.” The duo continued reading then. “But a pre-recorded video might.” Lotte and Amanda both leaned into the page, then looked at each other. Then back to the paper, and once again to each other. They shrugged.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It would be better than a livestream, I guess.” Lotte self-consciously admitted. “We’d have more room to prepare so we don’t mess up our lines or trip over ourselves….” She felt another one of her ideas had been a useless one. She couldn’t dwell on her deprecation now though. There just wasn’t enough immediate mental room in her head to even begin thinking about her emotions. “But what would we show?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, did you have somethin’ in mind, Conz?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze hummed to herself. She closed her eyes for a brief moment to try and get her head clear, only to find herself seeing flashes of the nightmare again. She tried to shoo them away as she did earlier, but in her attempt, a whispering came to her a second time. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“With our suffering, reason to live is found again.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Vaal wanted to know something. Did she cause the nightmare? She had thrown Constanze into a pit of sorrowful spirits, so inflicting nightmares wasn’t likely beyond the grand witch-smith of olde, but could she have even done so to begin with? These were questions Constanze couldn’t answer. What Constanze could answer though was the questions leveled at her by Amanda and Lotte. The nightmare remained at the forefront of her thoughts, but it was those very images which gave her the idea, so she allowed them to remain for now. “Ludinghal.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Lotte wasn’t sure she heard Constanze correctly, and Amanda didn’t even vocalize her response. Her puzzled face said it all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ludinghal.” Constanze repeated vocally. “We’ll go to Ludinghal. They destroyed my home. They killed my family. We’ll tell them what the Bathorys did. We’ll go to Ludinghal to prove it. Prove that we’re serious. That we’ll do anything to save Luna Nova.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both of her comrades were awestruck by the suggestion. “I-Is that…. Are you gonna be ok if we do that?” Asked Amanda.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And how would we prove it? How would we even get in? Isn’t it quarantine or on lockdown? Like, military lockdown?” Lotte felt panic rise in her. “Are we going to get shot? Am I going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>get shot?!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze held up her pad in response. “No one’s getting shot.” She underlined it twice, bidding Lotte to take a deep breath, though she remained nervous. Then Constanze thought for a moment. She pulled the pad back in and raised it once more, revealing that she had crossed out the prior statement. “We may have to shoot people.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh god, I can’t use a g-gun!” Lotte clutched at her chest, feeling weak. “I’m not a killer!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhh, Conz, I know you said we’d do </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> to save Luna Nova, but is uh… picking a fight with German soldiers really a smart idea?” Oddly enough, Amanda didn’t seem to care about the possible moral quandaries that would arise. At least not on the surface. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze sighed and spoke her piece. “We need evidence that the Bathorys were there. Maybe they’ll let us through. My family was there. Act as grievers.” Not that Constanze had to act out grieving, she was grieving well enough already. “But if they don’t let us through, we need to do whatever it takes.” Then she paused, for Lotte was still shaking in her proverbial books. “You don’t need to come. You don’t need to shoot a gun. You have your wand. We’ll be fine.” Not that she was trying to imply Lotte should kill someone with magic instead, but rather that she just needed to keep herself safe. “And you can bring up your evidence. The stuff about the Bathorys infiltrating organizations. It’ll help our case, and it’s important on its own.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“M-Maybe but—” Lotte was interrupted by Amanda unintentionally.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the one who was supposed to come up with bat-shit crazy ideas that are likely to get us killed!” Amanda protested, partially in jest, but otherwise in disbelief. There was </span>
  <em>
    <span>no way</span>
  </em>
  <span> that this was the Constanze she knew and loved. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” Constanze retorted. “You’re the one who comes up with bat-shit crazy ideas that are likely to get </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> killed.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“.... Ouch.” Amanda looked dejected. “What happened to no hits below the belt?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.” Constanze cleared her throat. She didn’t mean to be so viperous, but her point stood. Now to get back on track. “I’m not trying to hurt anyone we don’t need to. I don’t want to have to kill anyone who isn’t working with the Bathorys. But we might not be given a choice.” Her eyes fell to Lotte, who was clearly the greater of the two objectors here. “I’m sorry if I scared you, but we have to face reality. We can’t risk arrest. We can’t die now. Too much is riding on us. We need to get help, and to get help we need to prove that this is real.” Constanze looked to the side, sighing gently. “Maybe if we could trust them we wouldn’t have to fight them.” Though with what Constanze heard and knew of what was going on in the world, especially as she looked through the comments and articles on the crystal ball, she didn’t expect these times to be peaceful ones when it came to magic and the mundane. Conflict seemed inevitable. “Can’t trust them though. Can’t risk that they’d kill our friends and call it acceptable losses. It has to be this way.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte held her face with both hands, wiping it clear as if to try and awaken from her own horrible dream. “Ohhh…. This really can’t be our only option, can it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda shrugged before clapping Lotte on the back comfortingly. “I’ve got nothing else, and what Conz is talking about is true. If we can get proof that those fuckers burned Ludinghal, then there’s no way that they’d doubt that they’re trying to burn Luna Nova. There’s no way that anyone’d be able to dismiss Constanze’s spiel </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> your investigation.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte sighed heavily, fearfully. “I knoooowww…. But…. I told you I wasn’t much of a fighter and I meant it. M-Maybe I’m decent with the whole spellcasting thing, but…. But….” A pause followed. Constanze and Amanda leaned in curiously, raising their brows. “But I’m a coward!” Lotte whined. “I can’t kill someone? I could hardly even stomach fighting the monsters when we had to travel back in time to fix the Hologarium! I don’t even know how I’m going to be able to handle the Bathorys’ monsters! There’s no way I could fight a </span>
  <em>
    <span>soldier</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” She seemed well and truly disturbed by this fact, and neither Constanze nor Amanda could dismiss the matter as trivial. Her complaints were valid. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda at least had a better way with words when it came to this. “Alright, alright, we get you Lotte, and look, I’m not exactly thrilled about maybe having to fight some completely random soldiers who got a shitty post trying to… I don’t know, keep people safe from the spooky ash?” Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ludinghal under quarantine anyway? Was there fallout? The truth had been all but revealed at this point. The German government couldn’t still be trying to cover it up as a mundane “terrorist attack,” could it? Amanda would worry about that later. “But we don’t… well… </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>to kill anyone! We just need to… not… get caught! Or die. Definitely can’t die.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t help! I can’t risk putting my family on a wanted list!” Maybe Amanda </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> have a better way with words when it came to this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm. Mmmhmm.” Constanze tapped at a new page on her notepad, drawing Lotte and Amanda’s attention to it. “Well use magic to disguise ourselves. We’ll go in stealthily if a direct approach won’t work. We’ll figure something out.” Constanze grunted in slight pain as she adjusted herself in her seat. “My warning wasn’t a threat. We still might get found. If we do, that’s when we have to fight.” The next line was underlined, and aimed specifically at Lotte. “It’ll be them or us, and by extension, them or all of Luna Nova.” Constanze amended the not one one final statement which she spoke aloud. “They joined the military. They should have known this could happen. And if they didn’t want to hurt innocents, then they shouldn’t have joined at all.” Constanze furrowed her brow. “There’s no right way to fight a war. No right way to be a soldier. Just efficient ways.” For her, there was little concern for morality in that regard. If the very powers that be which employed the soldiers didn’t care for the morality of their own actions or the actions of their enlisted men and women, then Constanze wouldn’t try and moralize having to face those same soldiers when push came to shove. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte couldn’t respond to that. She didn’t have anything to say to it immediately, not that she agreed or disagreed with the sentiments offered. There was merely blankness Lotte said it best herself: She wasn’t a fighter. She never wanted, or felt she needed to consider dilemmas like this. These were problems made for important people. For people who had talent and reason to live and thrive. Lotte was just Lotte. She may have wanted to save her friends, but Constanze and Amanda were the ones at the thrust of this effort. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I really am just along for the ride….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>As she always felt she was in days gone by. “Fine….” There was no energy left for her to argue with now. She needed to go for a walk. “But if this backfires… and… and we… or if my family gets hurt, then I’m blaming you!” Lotte was quite adamant in her defense. The sister witches hadn’t ever seen her be so deathly serious and so frighteningly concerned all at once. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even so, they had finalities to settle. “Blame me all you want.” Began Constanze. “It’s my fault the Bathorys even destroyed Ludinghal.” Before Amanda could even object, Constanze cut her off with a raised finger. “I know I didn’t provoke them. I didn’t need to. My existence was what brought them. My family’s existence destroyed Ludinghal. It’s our fault, but it’s not our crime.” She weakly thumbed to herself, wincing through the sting of an ache in her right elbow. “And that’s why I need to go there. People need to know why. They need to see that we’re serious. That’s what will get people to help us.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte was once again without immediate response. She could only sulk and bend over, her face held in her hands. Amanda rubbed her back as comfortingly as she could and looked to Constanze with a pensive expression, one wrought with all sorts of emotions. “We’ll do it sis, but even I ain’t runnin’ head first into a situation like that without a plan.” Amanda was doing her best to be more mindful of her own safety, after all. “We’ve got a few days to spare. We both need to get fixed up. We can sort the details out then. Deal?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze inhaled through her nose and then out through her mouth. The nightmare fell upon her one last time before she absolved it from her immediate consciousness. She didn’t care if it was sent to her by Vaal or some other power, and she didn’t care if it actually meant anything, but she did care that it haunted her to begin with. “Deal.” At Ludinghal, she would put that nightmare to rest, along with what remained of her family memory. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Some time prior….</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>honestly</span>
  </em>
  <span> think that the reagents would be so readily available!? We are faced with a spell unlike any we have ever seen, and the counterspell requires something so plain as ground amethyst!?” Cause was pouring over a small pile of books, scrolls, and parchments that formed a veritable mound upon which she sat. She was holding up one particular tome with a visage of disgust, annoyance, and confusion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t ask me!” Effect retorted from a lower plateau on the mountain of books where she laid on her stomach. She was lazily peering over a few scrolls held aloft by “Fiela,” the strange organ-shaped animal cobbled together with dove wings, a multi-patterned feline tail, and arachnid legs. In the time away, it had grown to the size of a large pumpkin. It pulsated with life in all of the wrong ways, and emitted a low, constant purring sound from somewhere within its amorphous body. “You’re the one who suggested we consult the works of Phyrigian hermits!” Effect said as if such a suggestion was ridiculous from the start.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As if </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> have offered any better alternatives!” Cause spat a venomous acid to the dark void-floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Effect rolled her eyes as she bid Fiela to pick up a different scroll. “Perhaps if The Pursuer gave us better direction, and not just an estimate of time, then we’d be more well along then!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shifting the blame as always, We see!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>We’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> the ones who always shift blame, are We? Ironic that such words fall from your lips!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Feh!” Cause focused more intently on her books. A moment passed as both of them settled their humors. “So, what do you think? Does this amethyst claim hold any water?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We thought that all fluids were strictly forbidden from being involved in this ritual?” Effect coyly grinned out of sight, only to hold her head as a book from on high bounced off of her dome. “AH! You wretch!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Focus!” Cause leered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Effect was tempted to turn about and throw a book back in childish vengeance, but Fiela’s purring and petting of its master’s head calmed the twin. “Ugh….” Effect sighed. “If you can believe Our findings on the required number of gold shavings, then We can believe your supposed find on something mentioning amethyst dust.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It just doesn’t make sense to me, is all! As if this ritual is… well… nonsense!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pray explain, for Our head hurts twice as much now….” Effect flipped herself over, crossing one leg over the other and putting her hands behind her head as she looked up at Cause. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We suppose that the study of the earthen elements was never your place of expertise.” Cause began as she willed a “small” list of ingredients to float in front of her. It was full of items that their research had found to be necessary to enact the counterspell. “The issue We have lay in the selection of the ingredients: Fifty two gold shavings, two hundred and forty nine grains of ground amethyst, nine pairs of in-tact wings taken from moths whose bodies were incinerated, one hundred and eighty candles!?” Cause’s tone became more flabbergasted and angered as she went down the list; this was an </span>
  <em>
    <span>incomplete</span>
  </em>
  <span> version, no less. “What in the elements’ names’ do any of these things have to do with temporal magicks!?” Her frustration came to head when she dashed the list away, tossing it to the pile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“T’would be nice if any of these scholars mattered to </span>
  <em>
    <span>explain</span>
  </em>
  <span> themselves….” Effect waved to Fiela to be off with another scroll, finding that one to also be useless. “So much of this is drivel steeped in metaphor and allusion that demands… so… </span>
  <em>
    <span>so much</span>
  </em>
  <span> pre-existing context! It’s like trying to pick apart bohemian poetry written by hallucinating salmon!” Truly, the imagery described in much of the text was baffling to say the least. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My point exactly! How do we even know that anything we’ve discovered </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> applies? What if none of this links together, and this temporally-stabilizing counter-spell is merely a thing of fantasy!” Cause picked up another tome and began skimming through it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Effect shrugged. “The Pursuer would have said as much then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“After it gave us that ultimatum, do you really think it would have our best interest at heart?” Cause could still feel the tingling of the eldritch lightning dancing on her skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is not pragmatic of it to have to resort to such an option. Otherwise, it would have done so a long time ago.” Effect hoped. “And the coincidences are too great. They may be incomprehensible to suss out true meaning from, but there’s no way that Uralic and Bantu speaking peoples shared the </span>
  <em>
    <span>same exact fever dreams</span>
  </em>
  <span>, only to transcribe their experiences and knowledge down in similar formats! Not without there being some connection!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You call this drivel borne of fever dreams,” Cause casually flipped to a new page. “But this speaks more to a visionic pattern.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And what, or who exactly would be giving these people such visions?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pointless questions for pointless purposes! We need only return time to a moving state. We can ponder on the nature of such magicks when our duty is done.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We think you misunderstand Our query,” Effect frowned deeper as yet another scroll proved useless. She buried her face in the pile of literature in defeat only to slowly raise it back up as Fiela rubbed against her. She allowed a smile, the kind of grin the Twins usually wore, to grace her face as she petted and played with her little abomination. “If we can make sense of the madness, then we can start to pick apart the useful portions from the rest.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmmm….” Cause rested her cheek in one hand as she reread the same line of text maybe ten times before giving up on it. “The only pattern I’ve found in any of this is the prevalence of the number three.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eh?” Effect cocked her head up toward her sister. “I’ve heard you mention nothing of the sort.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, not three directly.” Cause went over the list once more in her head. “Yes, they’re certainly all divisible by three in quantity. Could that mean something?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That….” Effect hesitated. She thought back to her readings from across the days they’d been left alone by Will and Chaos. “We remember… something. Fiela, fetch me that tablet.” Fiela quirked their “head” and chirped confusedly. “You know, the one…. The one that mentioned the triangles. Something about time having three sides.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Triangles?” Cause squinted down at Effect. “Really?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ve read more absurd things than that, We assure you.”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Weren’t you just complaining about the obscurity of these writings? How do triangles help us?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like We said earlier: Don’t ask Us. We didn’t write it.” Effect chided, brightening back up when Fiela broke out of the book-pile holding a clay tablet aloft. “Here it is.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause leaned further over the edge of the peak to look down at the tablet. She couldn’t read it from where she sat, but she could clearly see it was written in a Nahuatl dialect. “Something from the western continents?” Western relative to the lands Cause and Effect hailed from. “Where exactly did you get that?” Her annoyance was quickly turning into suppressed excitement and curiosity. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re the one who cast the spell which summoned this horde of knowledge to us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And yet We’ve never managed to conjure something like that forth. We’ve never attuned Ourself to the knowledge held by the lands of those peoples.” Cause expressed some remorse in her voice. “Try as we did, too much of their civilizations have been destroyed. We were too caught up in Our duty to The Pact to entreat ourselves to a visit before their nations were brutalized.” Now Cause was kicking herself ever harder for having decided against such scholarly missions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sister, if we can conjure texts containing the otherwise spoken traditions of long forgotten tribes and kingdoms of our home continent, then </span>
  <em>
    <span>surely</span>
  </em>
  <span> we can stumble onto something from a land neither of us visited.” Effect pulled the tablet closer and began to read it. The gifts bestowed upon her and the other Fates allowed her to read the otherwise unfamiliar script, though it took longer than usual for each symbol and image to be deciphered into true meaning, despite having glanced at it prior. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The chances of that are just too….” Cause trailed off, only to be cut off by Effect.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have a little imagination.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause scoffed. “A little imagination is what had us jumping at the chance to get swallowed up in Chaos’ vision.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you saying it would be better if we doubted those two all those centuries ago?” Effect snapped, looking up at her sister with an inscrutable gaze. Was she angry? Surprised? Intrigued by the prospect? Or perhaps even sympathetic? It was impossible to tell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause chose her next words carefully after a long pause. “We are saying that this situation we find ourselves in is not pleasant, and that being imaginative has seldom brought us joy….” Her slow tone quicked into a hasty, defensive retort. “You have said as much yourself on prior occasions. There is nothing dubious in accepting that this existence is torment.” The words of Chaos, the original Chaos, amidst that brief moment of pure lucidity just before The Pursuer was called, haunted Cause.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That We have….” So too did they haunt Effect. Both sisters were left to shudder in silence. Their thoughts turned inward, yet they could hear pieces of each other's thoughts outwardly through the deep psychic bond their minds shared. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Does she mean to insinuate I planted this seed?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Effect began.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause only heard four words of Effect’s statement. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Me? Planting the seed?! Bah! Surely she can’t believe herself innocent. We both challenged The Pursuer…. It knows of our doubts now.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Causes’ thought came in more clearly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Then maybe she should have thought better of brazenly declaring her defiance.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What?! She’s the one who stepped forward first! I followed after her!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Cause felt her expression harden. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“That was her fault! She owes me a debt for standing with her!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now it was Cause who had been misheard. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“The debt?! She thinks I owe HER a debt for what happened?! She owes me far more from over the years!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Effect ground her teeth together. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It was she who deceived the Debutantes! She convinced me to join with Will and Chaos! This debt is</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hers! The debt is all hers! It always has been her fault!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Cause interjected. Their thoughts blended together into indiscernible, multi-layered arguing. It went on for minutes. Books and scrolls began to flutter before being tossed aside. Eld creatures in the dark distance wailed. Fiela scurried away in fear, still holding onto the tablet it had found. After some time, some words became coherent in that battle of thoughts. Their voices could not be told apart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And now she</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Has the audacity to</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Blame me for</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Her objection!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>They both thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A tear in the dark opened up, unbeknownst to either twin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“She can’t put it off forever!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“A reckoning will not be postponed indefinitely!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em><span>“The debt must</span></em> <em><span>be</span></em><span>—</span><em><span>“</span></em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Repaid eventually, and it won’t be me to</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Shoulder that infernal burden! She set us down this path</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And I may have followed her</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“But she knew I would! She</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Used my trust! She’s a</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Duplicitous!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Craven!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their voices coincided in a thundering boom as the tear grew wider. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Leech of a sister!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then three figures tumbled through the gate. A witch in white, a witch in black, and a haunched, chiropterous humanoid. Their bodies all rolled about to different sections of not-floor in the void as the portal shut behind them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will slid on her side to the right. Asgall stumbled to the left, landing on his back in a tangle of wings and screeching bat noises. And Chaos skid forward, face first into the book pile, bleeding bile and blood from her fractured, chitinous skull. When her mutated form struck the book pile, it began to tremble as the already unbalanced foundation, made as such from the magical backlash of The Twin’s mental argument, gave way to gravity. Cause and Effect were quick to take flight once their perches began to crumble. Books, tomes, tablets, tantras all fell by the wayside, washing over the three downed bodies before Cause and Effect could will the literature to part from them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once the bodies had been cleared of debris, both twins stared at one another and the scene below them in disbelief and confusion. They turned between the scene and themselves thrice before any notable sound broke out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“C-Cause…! Effect…!” Will grunted from below. She appeared to have been tackled by Asgall on his way into the portal. She was mildly wounded, but hardly disabled. “Attend Us! Seize him!” Her order came with the sight of her rising from the void and channelling power through her arms. Blindly bright light welled in her palms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The twins complied, and began to prepare their own magicks as Asgall scampered to all fours, and houndishly regarded The Fates. His massive fangs were barred, and his claws were long and deadly sharp. He raised one and called on the powers of the Crimson moon. </span>
  <b>“FRIEGHYRRG’IER!” </b>
  <span>The Fates hesitated as his spell was uttered. Will had seen his power first hand, and The Twins had no idea what kind of casting language that was; they knew only that it must have been some form of incantation based on how vaguely familiar it was to the Lunar language. When nothing happened though, the Twins stared at him strangely before chuckling. Asgall slowly rose to two feet and looked despondently to his claws as his unbeating heart sank. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“No…. No, no, no!” </em>
  </b>
  <span>He tried again, and again. The Twin’s laughed louder and louder with every failure. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“This cannot be! No! NO!” </em>
  </b>
  <span>Everything seemed just as he feared: He was disconnected from the bloody moon which gave him his magical powers; the bargain between the moon and the vampiric was rendered null in this space outside of space. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Where Cause and Effect giggled away, Will had little interest in wasting their time. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Sun-scaltha!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She shot out blinding hot death, which initially seemed poised to destroy Asgall entirely. To his shock, the light wrapped around him at the wrists and waist, tying him up in powerful magical bonds. Struggle as he might, his physical strength was not enough to overcome the supernatural might of a witch as Olde as Will. “Seal him!” She ordered tersely above the roaring and yelling from Asgall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“With pleasure!” Both Cause and Effect chimed before they mimed mirrored movements of each other, floating side by side. They performed a series of motions with their hands that were rigid and almost martially-artistic in form. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Terra!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A heavy step forward with one foot summoned heavy rock sediment from seemingly nowhere, surrounding Asgall on the not-ground. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Torra!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Cause and Effect raised their right and left arm respectively, forming an outward L-shape with it. The sediment rumbled to life. It quickly became compact, hollow, and dome shaped, forming two halves. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Entombtia!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The final motion of their spell saw both of them unbending their aforementioned arms, stretching them out toward each other, and smashing their fists together. This brought the two domed halveds to stand upright before smashing together, trapping Asgall inside, and snapping the light-leash that Will bound him with. The finishing touch came when Cause swooped in and sealed the dome along its crease with a stream of molten magma. Effect followed suit, blowing a cold wind from her mouth to quickly dry the lava, forming an air-tight prison; not that Asgall needed to breathe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Captured!” Cause quipped gleefully, standing atop the rocky-orb. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Contained!” Effect remarked as she floated a head above her sister. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then together: “And neutralized!” They took a bow, Cause bowing left as Effect bowed right, and then the opposite. Their celebration was soon accompanied by the bellowing howls, clawing scratches, and fist smashes from Asgall inside his stone prison. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“WHO ARE YOU!? WHERE HAVE YOU TAKEN ME!?”</b>
  <span> Asgall couldn’t help but speak in his guttural tone now. He could no longer leave that state; he was too far from a Balefire to fully control himself anymore. In time, he would go mad. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Quiet you!” Cause knocked on the dome annoyedly, but more so playfully. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Should We muzzle him?” Effect queried. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose, and walked over to the Twins with the slightest of limps in her step. “You should not have held your tongues against this one. When We give you an order, commit to it without delay.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come now, Will, we have,” Cause began. “So few reasons to smile these days. Allow us,” Effect continued, only for Cause to continue afterward. “These little joys. Our work has been tireless,” Effect went again now. “Grueling,” Then Cause. “Infuriating,” Their brows knit, their eyes slowly shifted to stare at one another. “And worst of all: Almost fruitless.” This little excursion involving Asgall had been their only distraction in days, and they so desperately needed a reason to not be nipping at the other’s heels. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Be that as it may,” Will didn’t even sound like she cared for the fact that Cause and Effect hadn’t made progress. She was frankly far too preoccupied with the mental baggage of having witnessed the ghosts of Vaal and Jehanne. Their failure to contain the fleeing witches stung just as well. Failure seemed to follow them like a plague, especially so in recent times. Will had but one desire: To be alone so that she might meditate to suppress these emotions. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“There will be a way forward yet. We need only uncover it.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Desperate as things may seem, WIll was not truly despondent yet…. But despair was growing in her. Nevertheless, there was something else that was far more pressing in the immediate moment. “Perhaps you have noticed that one of our own is in critical condition?” Will gestured to the possible corpse of Chaos which occasionally twitched like a splatted fly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause and Effect both darted their gazes away from each other and onto their fallen sister. “CHAOS!” They both yelped before rushing to aid the witch in black. Will sighed again at this, joining them at a slower pace. Cause and Effect knelt beside Chaos as Will came to stand over them all. They were quick with their healing magicks, though Chaos’ wholly alien physiology was making things difficult to repair. No witch present had any idea of what was supposed to go where, and that kind of anatomical knowledge was crucial to making more difficult restorative spells work. “What,” Cause started. “Happened!?” Effect finished. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will took a deep, measured breath before speaking. “We tracked down the interlopers who escaped our grasp at Luna Nova. They yet live.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Impossible!” Effect sneered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Unthinkable!” Cause spat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then together: “Unacceptable!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Preach not to the enlightened man.” Will chided. “We are well aware of how damning this fact is. Our very world may be doomed by the actions of these two defiant witches…. And they escaped us yet again.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Again?” Both Twins asked with visible dread taking hold of them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will nodded slowly, her eyes closing as she took another measured breath. Her nose vented soft steam, as did her lips as they opened to speak. Her words were hot, and the atoms in the air about her grew frantic with the rising temperature. “Yes. Again.” Still, the witch in white maintained a calm, stonewalled tone. Now was not the time to lose herself to rage and woe. Especially not in front of the others; she could not let them see the fullness of her weakness either, even if they knew of some of it. “They were among the followers of Jehanne and Vaal. That being,” She gestured to the slightly shaking orb of earth which had since become the locus of constant, muffled hissing, roaring, and shouting in tongues. “Was among them. They impeded our chase, as did the magicks of the Traitor-Flame.” She spoke of the Balefire, but would not mention the ghosts. Even thinking about their visages made her lips tremble with unmistakable anguish.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause and Effect were beside themselves. The latter hesitated to speak, but the former was quick to blurt out in exclamation: “Had that flame not gone out!? It still burns!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will solemnly nodded. “So it would seem….” The Order of The Balefire was one of the few institutions of the Eight Traitors that The Fates were certain had been ground down to dust, much like The Faesworn Covenant and The Pythia.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What of the dealings we made in Vienna!? Paris!? Stalingrad!?” Effect couldn’t imagine that their work had truly been for not. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We were foolish to entrust the modern nations with the eradication of The Balefire.” Will harshly retorted. “Only now though do we see the ill-begotten fruit reaped from that haphazard harvest….” The terms of The Pact struck Wills’ thoughts once more. The fact that The Fates had been unable to directly intervene in any of this made every failure all the more bitter. Certainly, over the millenia, Will had come to this conclusion hundreds of times, but never did it strike her so succinctly, so poignantly, and so damningly than here and now. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“There were defeats in our past, but they were only setbacks…. Pyrrhic victories for the Eight Traitors and their followers. Progress was made regardless of the outcome.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> And progress would too be made at Luna Nova. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“But progress isn’t good enough anymore.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The stakes had been raised; the contract seemingly was being run to a hasty term. The Pursuer had waited long enough. “None of that matters anymore now. All that we must focus on is the destruction of one of The Reclaimers. We know their faces well enough. So long as one perishes, then The Pursuer shall hold back its wrath.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Easier said,” Cause began. “Than done….” Effect finished. Both had ruefully removed their focus from Will, and now stared down at Chaos’ bleeding body once more. Their healing work continued, in part as a distraction from the anger and fear that clouded their mind. Neither of them could accept that The Balefire of all things now opposed them directly in the current conflict, rather than from the shadows as Ishtars’ dogs so often did. “We may know their faces,” Cause posited. “But our allies are hardly keen on obeying direct orders.” Effect chided before continuing. “Speaking of allies, what of the,” “Favored Son? He was with you, was he not?” Cause leered up from the wound on Chaos’ head to gaze at Will directly, sizing up the tentatively emotionless expression. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, Will didn’t allow much to muddy the stonewall that was her face. Her lips still twitched with disgust and sorrow, but they were too minute to notice before Will began to slowly pace around the trio. “He has failed us yet again.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Effect growled as she closed off one of the wounds to the best of her ability. “That’s twice now! Twice!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause mimicked her sister’s tone. “Twice that he has failed to slay as commanded! Not to mention the treachery he pulled at Ludinghal! Not only is he a snake—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Effect interjected to finish the insult. “But his fangs are as sharp as wet clay!” Both twins paused to sigh then as they refocused on tending to the still unresponsive Chaos. “Just how could he be so incompetent?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Honestly! It’s embarrassing….” Cause rolled her eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was not—” Will started, but stopped herself. She bit her own tongue and slowed her pace. Her knuckles slowly tightened. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t what?” The Twins asked in unison.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A pause followed. “Nothing.” Will shook her head and turned away from the trio, holding her hands behind her back. “We shall tell you of the details in due time. For now, We must retire.” Will herself wasn’t weary, far from it, she was restless, but she knew that restlessness would lead to mistakes in the future. Her humors still bubbled and boiled like the surface of a volcanic lake. She needed time to cool off and get her thoughts in order.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“E-Eh?” The Twins cocked their heads. While Will had disguised most of her uncharacteristic behaviors, the fact that she was bidding for a rest at all showed that something was wrong. “Are you hurt?” Cause asked. “Injured?” Effect asked afterward. “Stubborn as you may be, dear Will, it is not strong of you to ignore the pain of wounds!” They both advised. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are fine.” Will tersely regarded them with a piercing, sideways glance. “Do as you have been ordered: Ensure that Chaos yet lives, then—” Her words were interrupted by an eruption of stone from the earthen prison.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A chunk of it had been broken, and a terrible howl from the bestial Asgall emanated from within. Hints of human tongues spoke through the gap: </span>
  <b>“RELEASE ME!” </b>
  <span>It almost sounded like he was sobbing, or maybe whimpering, but the growls and frothing overpowered those hints of regret. </span>
  <b>“I BEG YOU!”</b>
  <span> His words surely conveyed remorse though. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Asgall’s resistance was short-lived. Will, Cause, and Effect all raised a hand and willed the hole to be sealed with a fresh layer of magic and rock, shoving Asgall’s clawing hands back inside with a visceral snap in the process. Will cleared her throat before picking up where she left off, making an amendment to what she was going to say. “Then make sure that mongrel can’t escape.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A-And after that…?” Cause queried. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then you will debrief Us on your findings. We shall see just how fruitless your efforts have been.” Will faced away from them again and took a series of measured breaths between words. “Otherwise, return to your search…. We have no time to waste.” The calmness in her voice spoke to a juxtaposing turmoil that roiled within, and the Twins knew of that contradictory signal all too well. Will was losing her temper by the moment, and when she exploded, as she had on rare occasions prior, there was little left within a mile of the epicenter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A-As you say, Bearer of The Mantle!” Thus, Effect would speak as serviley as she could. “Might W-We make a request though?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause caught onto her twin’s request quickly; by way of unintended telepathy. “Yes! A s-simple question!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will did not turn, nor did she respond. Her inhalations through the nose, and exhalations out through the mouth, grew a tinge louder. That was all the response she would afford them right now. “We request solitude!” The twins chimed, earning an insulted, semi-wrathful gaze from Will. Both Cause and Effect gulped down the knots in their throats. “We b-believe our… shared… thoughts… are impeding on our ability to search for relevant knowledge!” That wasn’t exactly the accurate truth, but it wasn’t a lie either. Cause and Effect had been hounding each other non-stop over the past few days, and siblings could only handle so much rivalry. “We know you can mute our connections to one another, so please, isolate us! Let us work in peace! We promise it shall be for the better!” Both Fates clutched their own hands together in pleading fashion, and knelt before Will.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will quirked her head in partial confusion. “Just how is your…?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She won’t let it go! That’s why!” Effect blurted out, only to suck her lips in a moment afterward, realizing what she had just said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause mouthed words to her twin, her eyes looking mortified: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You idiot! Shut your mouth!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No…. You can’t be serious….” Will sized each of them, and their request, up with a baleful stare. “Nearly two thousand years have passed, and still, neither of you have settled that ‘debt’ you both claim to owe?” Will may have known about ‘the debts’ existence, but not of what ‘the debt’ actually represented, or where it came from. The Twins refused to ever speak of it with any besides themselves, though Will had of course overheard them on some occasions. When both twins solemnly nodded, Will turned around, slowly, intently. “I cannot believe you two….” The void around her grew white with blinding light. Her eyes became obscured by that same light, the not-ground below them rippled, and Cause and Effect both felt piercing headaches. Wills’ anger leaked out into reality, disrupting both the very perceptions of her fellow Fates, and the structure of local reality itself. “The world may yet be doomed as our failures continue to mount, and you busy your minds with fears over a debt? A pointless, meaningless exchange of trinkets or favors?” Cause and Effect both clamped their hands over their heads and shook them in the negative as the pressure on their craniums grew by the moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“NO!” Effect yelled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“WE PROMISE!” Cause pleaded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“SUCH IS NOT THE CASE!” They both stated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then why…?” Will’s knuckles were clenched tight that they cracked audibly. “Why do you waste my time with these requests…?” The Original Will started to bleed through. “Why do you jeopardize our mission with concerns of commerce and trade?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not like that!” Effect’s cheeks grew wet with the occasional tear that leaked from her tightly clenched eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There was no coin involved! No favor or trinket! That is not our way!” Cause could barely take it either. It felt like her brain was being compressed into a singular molecule. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then tell me,” Will slowly came down to one knee and looked her sisters in the eye.The space only grew hotter as she drew closer. “What is the significance of the de—” A chitinous cracking interrupted Will’s interrogation. Her eyes quickly fell on Chaos’ body, which was still lying motionless between the Twins. A wound that had previously been mended, one on her ‘skull’ as it were, had cracked in again. Will knew that she had caused such damage, though it was unintentional. She sighed slowly, exhaled thrice, and with every outward breath, the light around her dimmed until darkness took hold again. The Twins were released from the vice grip on their heads and fell to the floor, gasping and groaning. “Do you see what your childish game has brought Us to do?” She corrected her use of the singular now that she had regained control of her emotions once again. She stared down at the writhing forms of Cause and Effect, raising a brow as if to prompt an answer. When it never came Will shook her head, closed her eyes, and rose to her feet. “Disgraceful.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We…” The twins sputtered and groaned. “Apologize….” Both managed to open one eye each and look up at Will. “I-It is b-but a minor… nuisance… but one that—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ENOUGH!” Wills’ words were as thunder. Her blinding aura flared up for one final time in a singular instant, only to recede back within her in the next moment. She then turned about and bowed her head, looking down at her tensed fists. “Enough….” Now her words were but the stifilings of a woman about to weep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-Will?” Cause whispered with what must have been sympathy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It… It’s alright…. We… deserve as much….” Effect mewled, turning her gaze aside to look at nothing in particular. . </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will’s typically calm breathing became erratic for but a few moments before she was able to tighten her chest and stifle the storm inside of her. With a sharp, hissing inhale, she whispered with dagger-like sharpness. “Not another word.” With a quick, but weary gesture, Will brought their attention to the shaking stone prison. “You have your orders. I-I… We don't want to hear another word about this debt of yours.” Slowly, her tone returned from a shaky, uneven anxiousness, back into a more recognizable, but ultimately imperfect monotone. “You will control yourselves and aside this petty argument, or I will remove your choice to comply from the equation”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause and Effect both regarded one another with disdain before shaking their heads and sighing. “We understand.” They both intoned regretfully. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now, tell Us this before We leave to rest: What is Chaos’ condition?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The twins examined their erratic sister with hesitant urgency. After a minute or so, Cause broke the silence. “She lives, and is not at risk of perishing…. But We believe that she has suffered severe trauma to the… does she have a brain anymore?” Her physiology on the inside </span>
  <em>
    <span>truly</span>
  </em>
  <span> quite alien at this point.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Effect warily scratched at her neck. “We... suppose it qualifies as a brain of sorts.” Then she shrugged. “All We know is that it is wounded in a way that can be healed…. We expect her to be out for several days at least…. Though We must ask: The burn marks, are they the doing of the Traitor-Flame?” Will, with her back turned, nodded once, withholding a tear from her eyes. “Wretched Vaal, Self Righteous Jehanne…. They just can’t leave well enough alone, even after death.” Both Twins started to feel at ease now that they were changing the subject. Will felt no such ease though, and was quick to begin walking off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Twins called out to her before she could fully leave them though, for they were still concerned for the emotional state of their judicious sister. “Wait!” Will paused mid stride, becoming deathly still. The only sound Will heard for the moment before The Twins continued was the chattering and grinding of her own teeth. “Is there anything we can do? Are you truly alright?” They may have been duplicitous and corrupted from the many souls within, but The Twins were always the more tender of the four during their original lives. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will sighed, allowing all of the tension in her muscles to fall to the wayside. Her posture slumped, somewhat depressedly. “No.” Her refusal accompanied the gentle waving of her middle and pointer fingers on her right hand in the air. She created a simple symbol in the Lunar style before speaking again. “Do as you have been commanded. Do this and nothing more. Nothing less.” Her words left the air suspiciously cold as the symbol flashed brightly, consuming Will in light until she vanished entirely. Wills’ emotions always brought </span>
  <em>
    <span>heat</span>
  </em>
  <span>, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>cold</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and that worried The Twins even more as they felt shivers run up their spines. Still, all they could do now was regard each other with fierce glares before both lost the energy to argue any further. They had an ascended vampire to contain, research to do, and findings to report. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This left Will on her own of course. Alone in an ocean of white light, streaking with black lines, as if she were passing by a trillion stars that left streaks in the sky. Alone with the very thoughts that had her biting her own tongue earlier in the conversation: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“The blame for their escape lies not only with Nikolai, but with myself….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The tunnel of light started to gain color; dark greens, dull browns, violent reds, and dreary blues. She was headed somewhere secret, somewhere only she knew about, well, that wasn’t true, actually. Rather, she was headed to a specific grove within a forest most frightening. It was her own personal hideaway. A place to retreat from the pain so that she might muster the strength to suppress her emotions once more, as she always had ever since the day of The Deceiver’s betrayal. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“At least Chaos had the gall to try and kill them.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She thought as the moaning oaks took shape, and the thorny thickets gained purchase all around her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I was weak…. I hesitated.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She of course knew nothing of the struggle within Chaos. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><em><span>“Perhaps she is merely mad... but if it takes an insane woman to save the world…” </span></em><span>The accursed fauna of the forest came into view, only to scatter and scream away from the clearing as Will took shape in reality. Mandrakes shrunk beneath the earth, Man-Eater Ants skittered through the trees, and cockatrices bounded across the forest to make distance from that place. The Origin of Hate had returned. </span><em><span>“Then I may need to forsake reason in favor of results….” </span></em><span>Arcturus welcomed her like a wasp to a beehive, buzzing in distress. Yet this was home, once upon a time. “Or maybe,” Will said aloud, now fully manifested within the wicked realm of splinter and spite. “There shall be another way to pay that price.” Curiously, Will stroked her chin gently. She had much to consider, and little time to waste. She slowly strode across the clearing and sat upon a stump, one she often sat in many centuries ago, whiling away the time with poetry and—</span> <span>“No.” She rejected the memories of what she loved. Her eyes closed as she began to enter a meditative state. “Not today…. There will be time to yearn… when humanity has more time to spare.” </span></p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Meanwhile, at Castle Bathory….</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Day… six? Eight? I dunno anymore….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Wangari couldn’t keep track of how many times she’d slept during her imprisonment. No one really could. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“God, is it even time for… food?” </span>
  </em>
  <span> Without a window to show them the time of day, their internal clocks slowly began to degrade in quality. Concepts such as lunch, breakfast, dinner, all faded into “meal,” for the Bathorys only gave them one per day, and usually it was only barely enough to keep them all alive. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh whatever….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> By now, every one of the captured witches was fading in and out of consciousness every few hours. Sometimes they would be allowed to sleep for as long as their bodies saw fit, and other times the vampiric guards would rattle the iron bars just to spook the captive girls awake. On rare occasions, scalding hot, or icy cold water would be flung on the unfortunate witch, leaving them badly burned or nipping with hypothermia. These cages were a hell of sorts that none of the witches had ever imagined. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wangari scanned her surroundings, not that it had changed much. She was in a cell with three thick stone walls and one thick, iron-barred cell gate to keep them inside. The witches were wholly cut off from their neighboring cells in terms of sight, but they could see across the room and at a slight angle. The prison itself was a large corridor connected to other large corridors with either empty cells or other witches. They were hardly even close to being at capacity. From her slumped sitting position against the cell door, Wangari was able to spot Aieleen looking directly at her with a vacant, thousand yard stare. She had taken this predicament pretty hard, and understandably so. Based on the signals the cell across the hall had been giving, she hadn’t spoken ever since they arrived, and was likely in a state of deep shock. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Jeez….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Wangari sniffled and let a sorrowful gasp escape her before giving a signal to Aileen and her friend Bianca. It was a raised right fist. It meant: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Stay strong.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Every time Wangari saw someone like Aileen, someone who had been wholly destroyed by this experience, despite the fact that it </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t even over</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she wanted to cry. She couldn’t cry anymore though. Crying wasn’t the way Wangari liked to solve her internal problems to begin with, and she had cried quite a bit already. She turned around and regarded her cellmates: Her, Johanna, and Kimberly were mercifully in the same cell, and none of them had given up, but that hope and defiance was fading by the hour. Alice, Alma, Bridget, Esther, and Mary also accompanied them, alongside three second year students: Valerie, Hristina, and Fayola; the Magenta team. They’d done well to keep each other’s spirits high, but the mortal will could only go so far. Alma, Esther, and Fayola were much like Aileen, though they weren’t without words. Fayola was distraught beyond belief; she mumbled constantly to herself. Alma couldn’t stop shaking. And Esther tried to escape via </span>
  <em>
    <span>drastic</span>
  </em>
  <span> measures. One that required her friends to intervene so as to prevent blood from being spilt. The guards had shown restraint for feeding on the wounded at first, but if fresh blood were to be spilled, that restraint might give way to depraved hunger. Esther was better now, but her mental state was deteriorating fast, just like everyone else. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone was in partly torn clothes, and no one had bathed since they arrived. This was the definition of miserable. Still, Wangari had to press on. She had been thinking about things, and came to the conclusion that she was tired of waiting for rescue; at least, she was tired of waiting around without a plan. She stumbled to her feet and shuffled over to Kim and Johanna who were leaned up in the back left corner, looking at the ground thoughtlessly. Wangari whispered to them, for to speak any louder might draw the attention of the guard on duty for this wing of cells. “Hey.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey….” Jo mumbled back. Kim only grunted an acknowledgement and upturned her gaze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you thought about my idea?” Wangari and them had a long talk about… something. The details were hazy, even to Wangari. Dehydration and sleep deprivation did that even to the most committed of journalists. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kind of….” Jo rubbed her forearm with the opposite hand, gulping down dread. “Everyone’s in agreement: They wanna get out too, but… no one’s really confident that we can do anything besides…. Besides….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hope.” Kim grumbled. “Almost none of that left either.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well….” Wangari rubbed the back of her head, only for her hand to nearly be caught in her own disheveled hairdo. It wasn’t like the Bathorys were supplying them with hair-care products, let alone anything useful to maintain a large head of kinky hair like Wangari had. The spikes and rise that she had before had faded away into a more natural, but woefully uncleaned style, and the red markings by her eyes had faded and smudged. “What about my theory?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That the ship isn’t moving?” Asked Jo. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm…. I think I heard the guard from last… night’s…? Yesterday’s shift change. He said something about trying to get ‘unstuck,’ or something like that.” Wangari had been monitoring the guards closely. Most of the witches were staying as far away from them as possible, and trying to look at this as little as possible too, but not Wangari. She knew there had to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> they could do to get out of this, even if their wands had all been broken, and despite the Null-Wards the wicked necromancers had placed in the center of every cell, creating a small arcane “dead-zone.” Magic still “existed” in those spaces, but channelling it was fickle, and usually amounted to nothing. They were sigils etched into the floor, preventing simple erasure. That didn’t stop some witches from other cells though, who had supposedly attempted to chip away at the stone floor to nullify the sigil. They were savagely beaten for their attempt once it was discovered, by what Wangari and company could hear, and what was signaled from across the hall by their classmates. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Does that matter?” Kim wiped her eyes wearily. She felt her eyelids starting to falter, but didn’t want to be rude and pass out on her friends mid conversation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It matters a ton!” Wangari almost sounded too loudly, earning a peering gaze from the guard who had just been waltzing by the cell in an idle patrol, bored out of his mind. Wangari and company, along with everyone else in the cell, all brought their eyes upon the knight, unable to see the face beneath his helmet. Still, they could feel his annoyance. After a few moments of intimidation, the knight scoffed, shook his head and continued down the hall, mumbling some insult in Hungarian. Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief and returned to what they were doing. Wangari minded her volume from then on. “It really does matter, or, at least… it should.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How?” Jo slid down against the wall until she came to sit uncomfortably against the floor; albeit it was more comfortable than standing on her aching feet. “There’s no magic brooms around to get down, and I don’t know if we’d be able to survive a fall like that without our wands.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Assuming we even hit the ground.” Kim followed Jo down to the floor, curling her knees inward to rest her forehead on them, muffling her already nasally, quiet voice. “You saw all of the things they have flying around. We’d be monster food.” Kim often kept Wangari’s enthusiasm in check, even if the optimism was welcome at a time like this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well…” Wangari got down onto her knees, facing her teammates. “That’s not what I meant. It’s important because that means Luna Nova’s safe!” This elicited a baffled look from not just Joanna and Kimberly, but Hristina and Bridget, who were sitting nearby. “L-Lemme explain: If we aren’t moving, and they wanted to capture all of the witches, then why would they stay if they had already caught everyone?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hristina scooted toward them and spoke in a Serbian accent. She was a pale, petite woman with soft, round features, and a rectangular, somewhat stocky body shape, nearing her eighteenth birthday. “How do you know that we haven’t left Luna Nova, Wangari? What if we’re stuck on… something… else?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The group fell quiet for another moment as the guard walked past again, looking especially impatient now. That was usually a sign that the shift change was coming up. “What could get an airship with a castle on it stuck besides something magical?” Wangari reasoned. “I’m sure they got one of the weird artifacts down in the school to work and hold the airship in place.” Hristina was always pessimistic, even in the best of times, but now she had every reason to doubt the good nature of the future. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kim cracked her neck left, and then right, grunting at the aching sting from the motion as audible pops accompanied her muffled words. “Maybe, but how does that tell us that the school is safe?” That left Wangari quite stumped by that. She got a lead and let it go to her head, or rather, her heart in this case. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I…. I don’t—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait… you’re right!” Joanna interrupted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” The other three cocked their heads to the camerawoman of the LNN, curious as to what she was confirming. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wangari,” Joanna continued, looking desperately urgent, but with the hint of a smile on her face. “Do you remember uh… two days ago when that guard with the long blond hair came in?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Umm… yeah, kinda.” Wangari nodded once. It was hard to keep track of all of the things that went on in here, perhaps paradoxically so, since they were so deprived of stimuli and eventful happenings. Everything almost felt a tad numb, or muted, unless you really put your mind to being cognizant and in the moment, as Wangari did with the “stuck” conversation. “It was something about a feast going to waste, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah!” Jo nodded excitedly, almost nervously, and put the thumb-end of her right fist against her lips as she ran the theory through her head. “I think he said something about a lot of the food spoiling since their ‘victory has been indefinitely postponed.’ Can you quote him on that Kim?” Kim was the note-taker, after all. Kim thought on it, replaying the event in her head until her eyes slightly widened, which was a lot given she always looked half asleep. Jo knew exactly what their face meant. “Right! So… yeah, somehow, Luna Nova must be safe.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dang fine work Jo!” Wangari clenched her fists close to her chest in a little celebration. It was the little victories that would keep them going. “That photographic memory of yours is gonna come in clutch!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“H-How could it be safe though? What thingy do you think they used?” Hristina asked, still unsure of all this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jo hummed intently. “I’m not sure how we’d tell from here.... Do you think that maybe Jasminka blocked off a huge section with a wall of fruitcake.” The trio looked with an intense hunger and a healthy dose of confusion at that statement. Jo formed a smirk for the most fleeting of moments as the memory came back to her. She always was the bubblier member of the yellow team; more prone to antics and silliness. “You wouldn’t want to try it. It was like trying to eat a brick.” She remembers almost breaking a tooth on just a little piece until she got Jasminka to crush it with her fists, which seemed to be one of very few methods that worked to make it edible. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kim stifled a chuckle, and a heavy growl from her stomach. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> eat a brick if she was offered one at this point. The… </span>
  <em>
    <span>stuff</span>
  </em>
  <span>… that the Bathorys were feeding them was about as palatable as mud. It was better to think on the subject at hand though. Any more talk or thought of food would drive Kim crazy. “There’s no way it’d be that easy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm….” Wangari tapped her chin. “Agreed: It’s probably something freaky and weird that Finnelan or Lukic kept hidden from everyone else. Something they only whip out for emergencies, y’know?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Regardless,” Kim shook her head. “It doesn’t matter much what has them stuck right now. What matters is, well, whatever your plan is.” Then she buried it back between her knees. “So let’s hear it, Gari.” That was the nickname Kim sometimes used for Wangari, pronouncing it like Gary. “We’ve got nothing better to do, and I refuse to die down… up, die </span>
  <em>
    <span>up</span>
  </em>
  <span> here.” Kimberly may have been the one to often shoot down Joanna and Wangari’s ideas, Kim was the biggest go-getter of the LNN. When she said she’d do something, she meant it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wangari got her game face on. She was the de-facto “leader” of the yellow team. She just had a certain charisma and acumen for coordinated action that had others often flocking to her when things got chaotic, and her down to earth demeanor made her easy to work with.“Alright, so it’s a bit of a rough draft, but this is what I got:” As Wangari started to set the stage for explaining her plan, more of her cellmates started to gather around as the whispering reached their ears. “It seems like the guards rotate on some sort of list…. We’ve seen the one with the chipped axe come by three times so far, and the one with the long blonde hair has been here twice.” Brows were raised in curiosity as the group wondered where this might lead. “So if that’s the case, then we just need to wait for the guard with the bad limp to come by.” Wangari was </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> detail oriented. She may not have been able to analyze everything in the way Kim or Constanze did, but she could spot even the most minor of changes in an image. “Because every time he comes around, he always takes a little snooze about halfway through his shift.” That was a pattern she’d come to take careful note of. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bridget looked over her shoulder anxiously as she spoke. “S-So when he f-falls asleep… what do we do then?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, what then?” Kim added. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wangari looked to Valerie and snapped her fingers to point at her. “She’s the tallest girl in the whole school.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-What!? Me?” Valerie was indeed very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> tall. She was six foot two with dark brown skin, and a short, neck length head of dark brown and black hair with dyed streaks of fading pink on the accents. Speaking of accents, she was very much a West Coast American. She was otherwise of well rounded build with broad shoulders and hips, but what Wangari needed her for was her arms. “What about me?” She was quite sheepish among most people. She was even more reclusive in captivity; understandably so.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You could reach out through the bars all the way down to your shoulder, right?” Wangari examined the lattice of iron once more, comparing the size of the boxy holes to Valerie’s arms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I… think so.” Valerie was about to scoot over toward the bars of the cell to test the theory, but Wangari pulled her back as the guard made a pass. They were lucky that his head was turned the other way, lest they be forced to answer why they were gathered around so suspiciously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shhh! We gotta be patient! This is a marathon, not a sprint!” Wangari urged. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just how long do you think they’ll keep us alive anyway?” Kim morbidly asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh god, please let’s not talk about that!” Joanna covered her ears. She knew it was bad, and logically, she also knew that their survival was not guaranteed. But she never wanted to confront that fact head on. It was better to skirt around it until the very last moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How else are we going to know though?” Valerie asked, turning her head around to glance at Wangari as she rejoined the circle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s where the sleepy guard comes in.” Wangari nodded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh no… We don’t even know if her arms can even fit, and you’re trying to come up with a plan….” Hristina dug her fingers through her hair, shaking her head back and forth in despair. “And now you’re gonna get us beat for trying to do something funny! He’s gonna wake up the second you guys try anything! I know it!” Her volume rose and her breathing became slightly erratic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, hey, cool it!” Wangari let go of Valerie’s shoulder to comfort Hristina with a gentle touch. “If it doesn’t work it doesn’t work, but I need to test a theory.” This at least got Hristina to quiet down, though her breathing was still tense. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And what theory is that?” Kim raised a brow and lifted her head up to rest her chin against her knees. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y-Yeah, I wanna know why I’m doing this before I get my hand chopped off….” Said Valerie while nervously wringing her left wrist in her right hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wangari peered past her friends and classmates to check the hallway. Once she stopped hearing the distant guard’s footsteps, she spoke, confident that they still had time. “You know these sigils in the ground, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The ones that mess up our magic?” Said Bridget. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wangari continued with a nod. “I think they have a pretty limited range. It would only make sense right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Umm…. I guess?” Bridget was at a loss, as were some of the other witches, including Valerie, but Joanna caught on quick. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Remember yesterday,” Joanna presumed it was yesterday, at least. “When those weirdos in the black robes came by?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mary shivered. “Don’t remind me….” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Seriously….” Kimberly felt her blood curdle upon hearing of those men and women again. “I already hated getting my blood drawn at the doctor’s office…. That was just traumatizing.” She always dreaded the sight of blood. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about ‘em, Jo?” Asked Wangari. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When they were… collecting our blood,” It still felt strange for Joanna to say; stranger now that the event had passed. “They were using magic to move the vials through the air. All of them were floating!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your right!” Wangari smiled wide.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait…. Oh yeah!” Valerie’s face brightened for the first time in a week. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So that means—” Began Joanna, only for Wangari to speak in unison with her as their trains of thought synced up. “There’s a blindspot in the hallway!” They were triumphant in their declaration of deduction.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mary remained unimpressed, as she was never prone to great excitement. “At least we got </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> good out of… whatever the hell that was….” Necromancers had come and slit open their palms, only to take samples of their blood for reasons kept hidden. They were haunting individuals, and sometimes bore strange marks upon their faces. Some even smelt worse than the undead which accompanied them. Overall, the entire experience was but another harrowing ordeal each of the prisons had to endure. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Valerie nodded slowly, twirling some kinks in her hair as she visualized the details of this roughly-drafted plan coming together. “Ok, so you guys want me to stick my arm out to see if I can reach the dead zone, is that it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bingo!” Just as Wangari chimed her agreement, the telltale rattling of an iron and wooden door echoed from down the hall. Someone new had entered, no, by the number of footsteps overlayed, </span>
  <em>
    <span>several</span>
  </em>
  <span> people had entered. Each of the witches scurried off from the huddle, fearful of being caught cavorting with too many of their peers. They at first thought it was a shift change, but the sound of heels clacking against stone made it clear that one of the visitors was unlike any they had seen prior. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin regarded the unwashed, fearful, and bewildered masses in their cages with clinical intrigue, and regal disdain. She was accompanied by three knights of the clan, one of which had long blonde hair; he was here to relieve the current guard, while the other two served as attendants to Katalin. Their lady, clad in a garish red and white dress with a collar that shot up from the back with peacock feathers, had come to examine the stock personally. She carried a small scroll, recently inked with a chart and numbered list; the work of her Necromancers. “And this is the lot from which they drew the samples, yes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That would be correct, my lady.” The guard on duty bowed his head as he spoke and gave way to Katalin’s passing. “Do you bring news of the results?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do.” Katalin paused to glance toward the questioning knight. “Accompany me. I must inspect some of the specimens closely.” That sent chills up every witch’s spine, sparking a few outbursts of gasps, pleading, and insults thrown the vampire’s way. Katalin paid little to mind to their protests; the knights did all of the hard work for her. She merely watched on austerely, fanning herself with the parchment in her hands as the knight bashed their weapons against the cell doors while hissing cruel threats. The witches were quick to quiet down then. “Now, shall we?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The guard on duty quickly returned to Katalin’s side, bowing in apology on behalf of the rowdy prisoners. “But of course, my lady! Go and I will follow.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm. Yes. Good.” Katalin smirked. How she reveled in the dogged worship saddled upon her by the fledglings. It was never the same as the fear and reverence that they displayed toward Elizabeth herself, but it was satisfying enough. Soon she felt that her power would reach such heights to demand that response from her lessers. “Now then….” Her mind drifted from the future and back to the present. Her eyes scanned the graphs and charts one final time while humming. “Cell sixteen… prisoner eight. Bring it to me.” The knights needn’t ask for further clarification. They knew of whom she spoke. The witches of Luna Nova however were left in the dark. It made the determined approach of the knights all the more terrifying as they bounded down the halls in a dutiful stride. Every cell they passed by brought unspeakable relief to the inhabitants, while the one they stopped at became awash in terrible dread. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wangari, Kimberly, Joanna, and the others all watched from across the hall with mixtures of horror, grief, rage, and even hope. Esther, in her unsettled state, could only pray that one of them was being released, even if that made no logical sense. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The witches in cell sixteen however were much more unified in their response. They weren’t sure who the knights were coming for, but they formed a sort of human wall nonetheless. Only Aileen and a first year named Gwen were left out, for both were too frightened and shocked to mount a resistance anymore; the poor girls. Unfortunately for the latter, she was the one the knights sought, and while the display of solidarity from the others was admirable, it was ultimately worthless in the face of such brutal strength. The lead witch of the group, Elfriede, is laid out flat in a single punch that most assuredly broke her nose, and knocked loose several teeth. The others were similarly cowed by throwing punches, swift kicks, and clawing swipes, all accompanied by a mixture of sadistic chuckling and harsh yelling from the assailants. Only when the will to resist was beaten out of every witch did the knights stop, though they were careful not to kill any of them, and the necromancers would certainly be around soon to heal the most grievous of wounds, if only to ensure the continued survival of the prisoners. Now free to move in closer, the knights seized the whimpering witch Gwen by the shoulders and dragged her out into the hall, throwing her before Katalin so that she was on her knees. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gwen’s arms shook. She was weak, by all accounts. She was always so small and prone to forgetting to eat or sleep. She was a wondrous student, but a terrible caretaker when it came to her own health. Now she was gaunt, and her already small stature of four foot ten made her look like an elementary school child before the towering vampires. She did not look up at them. Her eyes were wide open, and fixated on the ground before her. Her breathes were slow, careful, but filled with terror. She felt any wrong movement could be the death of her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin clicked her tongue as she knelt down to regard this pitiful creature before her. She examined her as a butcher might a lamb fresh off the farmers truck. She had the look in her eye that something was wrong about this cut of meat, like it wasn’t well fed enough; no, it wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>pure</span>
  </em>
  <span> enough. It was diseased, or rather, it didn’t meet the standards for suitable stock. Her eyes darted between the charts and the girl with a suspicious squint. “Stand.” She commanded. Gwen didn’t obey, not out of defiance though, she was just too frightened to even realize she was being addressed. “I said stand!” Katalin’s shrill hiss woke Gwen from her stupor, and bid her to scramble up to her feet. “Good….” Katalin too rose before she began to circle the fledgling witch at a slow, predatory pace. “Now…. Cast a spell for me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“U-Umm…. W-Wh…. I….” Gwen fumbled for words. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Katalin scoffed. “Are you deaf, child? I have let you loose and told you to do as witches do, and still you hesitate!?” She was tempted to strike Gwen upside the cheek, but reserved herself, instead sighing with annoyance once she saw the girl was starting to cry. Katalin wouldn’t find the information she needed through harsh rebuke. A more gentle coercion was needed. “There, there….” Katalin’s free claw stroked Gwen;s cheek from the side. Her sharp nails came so close to piercing the flesh, but never drew blood. “Why don’t you take a </span>
  <em>
    <span>deep</span>
  </em>
  <span> breath and think about what I’ve told you, hmm?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gwen gulped down a cannonball’s worth of fear as her body seized up. She forced herself to manage some sense of control at Katalin’s request, having been lulled into a false sense of security from the beguiling mistress of night; the vampiric powers of suggestion were subtly powerful. “O-Ok…. Y-You’re letting… me go? You… you said you’re letting me go, r-right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’ve let you out of your cage haven’t I?” Katalin grinned. “Now how about that spell? Why don’t you show me what you can do.” Katalin knelt down by Gwen’s side, stroking the girls matted and greasy hair once more with barely restrained disgust, disguised behind motherly cooing and honeyed words. “It would please me greatly if you showed me your best work of magic.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gwen felt a smile creep on her face. She didn’t want to smile, but her mind felt so terribly at ease now, despite all of the alarms still going off in her head. Everything about this encounter was </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and yet she wasn’t resisting all that hard. “I’ll try….” She squeaked out with a dissonant tone of compliance and horror.  Her arms rose against her will, yet in complete accordance with her will; she was torn in two directions, but one, the less desired, wholly won out. From her shaking palms came magic, and from her lips came the words of a spell. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“S-Sero Seroria.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The magical twinkling at her fingertips flitted forward, creating tiny constellations of starry birds of paradise; toucans, parrots, all kinds of wild avian creatures. They danced around the unamused guards, dodging their dismissive swats and soaring over their heads. It was a form of illusory magic, but based on how they clanged against the silvery armor of the knights with their pecking beaks, they were clearly physical in some sense. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahhh… well done.” Katalin kept her forced smile for the moment. The spell was nothing to sneeze at, but it was the work of a first year witch for certain, and that simply wouldn’t do. Her eyes glanced one final time to the parchment: It was a list which detailed the concentration of magic within the blood samples taken from the witches. Gwen’s concentration was just too low to meet Elizabeth’s cut-off, and while she would gladly consume the girl's blood, she wanted only the best for the ritual; per her own words, at least. The spell was a demonstration of that low concentration. Her magicks simply weren’t strong enough to prove that she was a witch worthy of sacrifice to the soon to be god-queen of night. “Take her away…. And then release her.” Katalin nodded slowly to her two attendants who acted accordingly, shackling Gwen in cuffs before gently escorting her away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The poor girl was crying tears of joy now. She bought the lies; she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>free</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Thank you!” So swayed was she by the powers of vampiric persuasion that she would thank her executioner. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The other two guards, the one on duty and the one with long blonde hair who had come to relieve the former, were similarly confused. Even the witches on the sidelines, Wangari and company included, were swayed. Did the vampires know mercy? Were they capable of kindness in their unbeaten hearts? “R-Release her? My lady you surely—” A finger held up by Katalin silenced the blonde haired guard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hush now. She will be released….” Katalin waited for the door at the end of the hall to close shut before finishing her statement. “Released from this mortal coil, at least.” To answer the prior question: Hell no. A low, short chortle escaped her lips as the false smile gave way to a disappointed frown. “That’s ten out of the two hundred and thirty six prisoners we've managed to gather who aren’t powerful enough to be considered as candidates for supplicancy…. A shame really.” The jaws of witches hit the floor. Hearts sank. “Though I suppose roughly five percent isn’t a bad margin for error, and the failures will keep those gluttonous lords and ladies in check.” Katalin remarked as she rolled up the scroll and tucked it within the folds of her dress. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kimberly had to hold Wangari back with a hand over her friend’s mouth; all they needed was to attract the attention of one of the higher ups. “It all… how they say, comes out in the wash?” Still, the nonchalantly with which Katalin disregarded the lives of ten, let alone any persons, disgusted Kimberly, and the others. They all held their tongues though. The earlier display of brutal punishment from the knights kept the prisoners in check. “Now then,” Katalin cleared her throat. “Ill be—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Er, my lady, if I could ask—” The on duty knight mistakenly cut Katalin off. Her indignant glare made him realize this error, prompting a quick bow. “My apologies.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose. Her expression softened. “You had a question, so be out with it.” She turned fully about face in a graceful twirl of the dress to face the knight directly. “As you can imagine, a lady of my standing has little room for leisure in her schedule amidst war-time.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Lady Katalin.” The knight bowed once more before speaking clearly, standing at attention. “I merely wish to know the status of our mission. Five sunrises have passed, and I haven’t heard much of anything from the upper levels of the fort.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You haven’t heard </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Katalin seemed genuinely bewildered by this, though by how her face scrunched, she seemed more inclined to believe this was due to the knight’s incompetence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stood firm however and nodded. “Yes, my lady. It’s not just myself either. Captain Barabas can attest to this, and forgive me for speaking fouly in your pressence, but this castle is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking maze</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Though the vampire sounded quite agitated, he kept a respectful and deadpan tone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blonde haired knight chimed in, looking more relaxed with a cross-armed and leaned back posture. “Sure enough. I almost got lost trying to reach this place again. Despit having made the trek from the armory at least ten times now…. Were it not for bumping into you, Lady Katalin, I’d still probably be lost.” He rolled his shoulders idly between his drolly toned complaints. “I think those harlot sorcerers may have given us more than what we bargained for in this fortress. Mark my word: The place is changing on us.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin casually bit down on one of the longer fingernails from her left hand and waltzed past the two knights as she thought back. She’d been flitting about the castle like a mad woman for the past few days, certainly, and now that the knights mentioned it, she was starting to realize things were indeed out of place. “Perhaps you’re right…. But I don’t think it’s anything we need to immediately concern ourselves with.” Then she spun about on a heel and gave a determined look to the two fledglings. “That said, the fact that you’ve been deprived of information speaks to a problem we may not even know about. You.” She pointed to the on-duty knight who tensed to an at-attention stance once again. “You’re relieved of this boring task, yes? Then I have a new task for you: Scour the lower the levels. Gather up no less than three scribes and have them map the foundation. Then do it again within the next two hours and bring me the results. I’d like to test this theory of yours.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As you say! It will be done.” The now relieved knight put an arm over his chest, a fist against his heart, before dutifully marching off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> theory, but sure, better him than me.” The blonde knight mumbled while rolling his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin ignored his complaint. “And I trust you’ll be fine down here…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Unless you consider baby-sitting a dangerous job, I believe I’ll be fine.” He was quite the sarcastic sort among the noble vampires. “And while I’m not about to saddle you with impossible tasks, if you see Elek, remind him it’s his turn after my shift is done.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do I look like your errand girl, Gyuri?” Katalin, surprisingly, seemed to be going along with Elek’s sarcasm, biting back in kind, though clearly not interested in fulfilling his inane request. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, but Elek shall look like a stain on the wall if he’s late again because he decided to sleep…. I mean, for God’s sake, Lady Katalin, we’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>vampires</span>
  </em>
  <span>! We’ve been gifted by Christ to only hunger for blood, and that man </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> thinks he has need for sleep! Honestly, if I didn’t know him any better, I’d say he sleeps on duty.” Gyuri lifted the face-plate of his helmet to spit at the gate of one of the cells before lowering the plate again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin dryly chortled. “I’ll keep it in mind should I stumble across him, though your qualms are yours to settle.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that your blessing to throw him overboard should be found napping?” Gyuri stretched his arms by crossing one over the inside of his elbow one way, and then the other. Katalin smiled and turned toward the exit. The clacking of her heels marked the end of the conversation, followed by the opening and closing of the door. Gyuri laughed lowly. It almost sounded like a growl or grumble. “I’ll take that as a yes….” Then he noticed that Wangari was watching him quite intensely. She had been paying careful attention ever since Katalin entered, even when Kim had to stop her from objecting to Katalin’s cruelty. “And just what in the hell are you looking at, worm?” He sounded more dismissive than the last guard. “This duty of mine is boring enough already. You could at least have the decency to not make it awkward by staring.” With that, he lazily walked down the hall to make the rounds, check the locks; the usual tasks associated with this post that weren’t associated with being intimidating or watchful. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wangari watched him go every step of the way. Once he was far enough down the hall, she turned to Kimberly and Joanna. The former was writing things in a small pile of dust the latter had collecte. Kimberly’s utensil of choice was a torn strip from their shoes. Say what you will about the Luna Nova News Network, and Yellow Team, but they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>resourceful</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  “Did you get all of that?” Kimberly looked up and flashed a weary grin. Wangari returned the smile. “Nice!” She did her best to keep her volume quiet still. “I think that’s all of the puzzle pieces we need to get this plan together!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Valerie managed a smile too. “Now we just gotta test that range theory, right?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yep!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Assuming I know what you got in mind, Gari,” Kimberly began amidst her note taking. “We’re gonna need a little more than just some telekinesis, a sleepy guard, and his keys.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah…. You’re right, but we’ve got a good basis!” Wangari put her arm around Valerie and Bridget, pulling the huddle of witches back together. “So, we need ideas: What’re we missing?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everyone was silent for a short while, occasionally piping up with the declaration of an idea, only to discard it. Then Joanna reached for her neck, where Ansel, her eye-balled and winged camera usually dangled, a habit she performed when deep in thought, and realized </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> what was missing. “Oh! Oh! Idea!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wangari darted her gaze over to the Polish witch. “Shoot, Jo!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you guys remember that time when we went to Liverpool for the EU Witches Reporting Referendum?” Joanna was referring to a meeting held every two years by witches who dedicated their lives to reporting on magical and mundane going ons in the world, and explicitly distributed said news to other witches and Fae. The one she was talking about happened last year, and concerned several votes surrounding organizational restructuring for the Reporting Witches Union. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You mean that time you had an existential crisis because you forgot Ansel in the bathroom and didn’t realize it?” Kim coyly remarked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y-Yeah!” Joanna pushed back the embarrassment that immediately rushed through her system. “But Ansel found </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, remember! Not the other way around!” Now the others were starting to catch on. They nodded in agreement, even those who weren’t present, as they started to piece together where this was going. “I just need to send Ansel a signal! They didn’t break him like they broke our words!” If Joanna was remembering correctly, she awoke from her unconscious state on that dark day to see her kidnapper yanking Ansel off from her neck, only to pocket it as a trophy. “If he’s in the castle, he’s probably asleep since I’m not there to wake him up, but if he realizes I’m in danger, he’ll come flying to us!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Wangari and Kim could applaud their fellow teammate for a plan well conjured, Valerie cocked her head. “And just how is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>camera</span>
  </em>
  <span> gonna save us?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Joanna smiled hopefully and took a deep breath. “I’ve had Ansel ever since my tenth birthday. I know he won’t come empty handed.” She thought of the necromancers; surely they had wands on them, and Ansel was just as resourceful as the photographer who wielded it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hristina hummed nervously, still unconvinced. “That’s leaving a lot to chance….” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s the best chance we got though!” Countered Wangari. “So, here’s the plan:” She paused to get her thoughts together. “First we wait for the sleepy knight to get here and nod off. We gotta make sure it’s a quiet day though, so let’s wait until we know for sure that nothing’s going on. Then Val here can try her hand at signalling for Ansel. She can do that, right?” Wangari looked to Joanna who paused, tapped her chin, and then nodded firmly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm! I can tell her what to cast!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Perfect! So all we need to do then is wait for Ansel. When he gets here, hopefully with a wand or something, we either hide him and whatever he brings, or we go to phase two.” Wangari held up two fingers to denote the change in “phases,” as it were. “We wait again until sleepy head dozes off, steal his keys, and get out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kimberly interjected. “Just one problem: They keep good tabs.” She folded her arms across her chest and gave Wangari a knowing look; they needed to account for this hole in their plan if they were to execute it. “They’d notice if the keys were missing, or if an entire cell was suddenly empty.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Couldn’t someone make a mold of the key? Like, a copy?” Bridget peered toward the edge of their cell and toward the curiously on-looking witches who had taken notice of the huddle Wangari and company had formed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kim nodded. “Maybe, but that still leaves us with the whole: We can’t all just vanish, problem.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right, right…. So….“ Wangari’s excited smile slowly melted to a determined, flat-lined frown. “So what if only </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> of us escape.” Naturally, this earned some protesting glares and head shakes from the group, alongside eyebrows raised in suspicion. “Ok, now hear me out! This ain’t about choosing who gets to live and die: Whoever’s getting out of the cell isn’t making a break for it. Kim was right when she said that’d be suicide.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So what is it about?” Mary asked as she leaned into the huddle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If we can get a small team out there, then they can find a secret spot in the castle and hide out.” Wangari hit her right fist into the palm of her left hand. Her confidence was rock solid. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Joanna joined in then, running some estimations in her head. “Yeah, yeah! That could work! Especially if there’s secret rooms or something! You heard those freaks, this place is probably enchanted, so its layout must shift pretty often!” Based on what Joanna saw of the structure when the Bathorys first attack, this place had to be bigger on the inside than the outside might let on; it’s geometry didn’t adhere to the typical laws of physics. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But then what?! They’ll just get caught and killed! And what if they find out someone left anyway!? And what about—!?” Hristina’s frantic panic was quickly cut off by Wangari squishing her cheeks with one hand one each. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Hristina?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yush…?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look at me.” Wangari and her stared at each other for a solid twenty seconds before Wangari spoke up again. “You good now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A pause followed. Then Hristina slowly nodded. “Maybe….” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok! Then take a deep breath, and let’s think about this. It’s not like we gotta do it all right now: We got time.” Wangari let go of Hristina’s face and slowly backed off, and Hristina did the same as she took measured breaths. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Valerie covered her mouth with a balled fist to hide her anxious frown. “Do we? Do we really though? Is anyone even coming to save us?” That was the question everyone had on the mind, but no one wanted to answer. “And if no one is, then what do we do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wangari sad quietly for another minute or so before she rose to her feert and started pacing. Finally, after another long silence, she shook her head. “Someone’s coming.” She was certain of it. “Someone’s gotta be coming, and we need to get some people outta here so we can be ready to help them. We need to figure out what’s going on with Luna Nova, find the weaknesses in this stupid blimp, and be there for when rescue arrives. They’ll need all of the help they can get!” Wangari was convincing enough in her speech that no one even considered questioning her aloud. The doubts remained internally though, even for Wangari herself. She’d stay strong in spite of that, for she had to. This plan was riding on decisive action, but also on luck, and if they didn’t trust their luck, then they wouldn’t be decisive. Without courage, dawn would never come for the imprisoned witches. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Meanwhile, near Whithorn, Scotland….</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another night, another desiccated farmhouse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nikolai’s men had secured the first one the night before the battle at The Balefire of Caledonia with brutal efficiency. This one was taken with the barbaric savagery of broken and beaten men. The inside was a charnel house. Only six of the original fourteen vampires remained; Nikolai included. His honour guard had been humiliated. Nikolai had been humiliated. The Fae, despite being influenced by The Fates and their magicks, were capable of felling over half of their number, and Nikolai himself had lost his left hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What remained of it from the blast Constanze delivered unto him was cut off. There was no use for a few dangling bits of bone and sinew, and the wound itself, having been rent from high-powered arcane slugs, was one that could not be regenerated. He would need the power of the Bathory necromancers to attach a replacement, and even then, it would never be the same. Little by little, the witches of Luna Nova were breaking his body down; his fighting prowess was slipping with every wound made against him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Meanwhile, Nikolai himself was the one who wounded himself most, not in body, but in mind. The bloody home was but a testament to that degradation of mental faculties. Nikolai huffed and puffed and growled all the while, ever since he’d left that mountaintop. His head darted at every unwelcome stimulus. His men avoided him like one might a rabid dog, and they themselves were stricken by their wounded pride, but none took their defeat harder than Nikolai did. He was stood up, alone in what was once a bedroom to the family that lived there, looming over a cracked wooden desk that rested against a windowed wall overlooking the winter crop-fields. His eyes were cast down at the imprints his fist had made in the tabletop, all beside the malformed stump that was once his hand. The fresh sheen of wax that the former inhabitants had put on the table reflected his partially burnt face. His right eye seemed to float, no longer nestled in the safety of a fleshy eye-socket, but in a boney, charred hole. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was covered in scratch marks from his maddened clawing, and near collapsing under the weight of his tantrumed thrashing. Now he was still though; still in all manners save for breath. His chest rose and fell like a pump put into overdrive. His eyes were wide with fury. His mind awash in memories recent and long gone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then the silence was broken with another pounding fist into the wooden table. “THRICE!” Wood chips were sent flying from the blow. “Thrice….” His yell became a low, remorseful, almost pitiful whisper. Then his words turned inward. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Thrice now have I failed you, mother…. First at </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Čachtice, then at Luna Nova, now…. Now…!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>His breathing tensed. He roared as he threw the table to the side in one swift motion, smashing it against the western wall of the bedroom with a resounding crack followed by little clatters as the wood pieces hit the floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a twitching, hunched posture, Nikolai slowly drew his gaze out to the night-time, soon to be dawn, skylight. His mind’s eye however was elsewhere. It was at Ludinghal, at Čachtice, The Balefire, Luna Nova; all of the battles he had ever fought and failed in. The paradox of his yearning struck him like a sledgehammer, and yet he remained ignorant, and unaware of himself.</span>
  <span> He desired an enemy, one worthy of his prowess, but now that he might be faced with one, or two even, his facade of honour crumbled, revealing the domineering monster that dwelt beneath the flesh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pathetic….” Nikolai looked to his one remaining claw. It tensed and trembled. His teeth chattered. His head pounded with pain. “PATHETIC!” Thus he struck himself across the face, raking his cheek clean open with his own claw. Once, then twice more. The tiniest flecks of blood marred the floor, blending in with the now drying pools of the former inhabitants of this peaceful looking abode. His wounds were quick to heal of course, and so his self mutilation was little more than an extension of his deluded tantrum. As his face reconstructed itself back into proper form, his whispering continued. “Forgive me Father… for I have sinned….” If God heard him, then they never considered Nikolai’s words as genuine. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The only sin Nikolai believed he committed was the failure to slaughter his prey. “For if I had merely…. For…. If….” Nikolai felt light headed. He’d forgotten to drink amidst the hunt for the last of the Von Braunschbanks. “I faced that witch with my ideals at my back….” He thought of the one The Twin Fates identified as “Chariot.” She was an… amusing foe, by Nikolai’s standards. “And it is by the grace of those ideals, your ideals Lord, that I… felled her….” While his words were meant to dwell only within his mind, the ranting nature of his deluded state had him speaking aloud in a deranged soliloquy. “Could it be that She, that final thorn in our side, the last of the wretched Von Braunschbanks…. Does she fight for a cause she believes to be righteous? Does she hold the conviction her ancestors knew?” It was the only explanation Nikolai could surmise in the twisted logic of his own world, for to imply that he was weak in body, or careless in action, would be far too reasonable a presumption to make. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have I become blinded, Lord?” Nikolai fell to his knees, looking up at the crescent moon, beseeching what he believed to be God. “What dark force has led me to fail you thrice? To fail my mother thrice? What purpose do I serve in defeat? For what reason do you send me down this path!?” Of course, no answer came. Time passed fluidly. The memories barraged him in a wave of gore and violence. Battle ruled his mind. His voice became a growling, pleading mixture, barely recognizable as human in origin. “Was it selfishness? Selfishness in my vengeance…?” He recalled the emotions that drove him, the way he conducted himself. All of it was right, but so very wrong, both to him and any decently minded being. “Yes…. Yes I see now….” Whatever he saw was twisted indeed. His gaze fell to the floor. His posture curled into a prostration before the moonlit window. “It cannot just be for myself, I see it now!” Nikolai’s wretched, teeth baring frown turned into a maddened smile, as though he realized something so simple, yet so vexing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>“I must…. I must fight for vengeance, but vengeance not in </span><em><span>my name</span></em> <em><span>alone</span></em><span>….” Nikolai raised his face to the moonlight. He chuckled weakly; dissonantly. “For you, God, for your son, the savior of men, and for her! For The Bathory Clan…. My battle must be won on the planes physical and spiritual! I must show them! Show them all the wickedness in their hearts!” Nikolai clawed at the ground, raking up strands of wood from the tiled floor as he formed a fist. “Just as I did with the witch atop that tower, I must show the Von Braunschbank how she is nothing more than a sinner….” Then his mind went to the flamingo-haired swordswoman. Yes, he was certain. History did not repeat itself, he knew this well, but it loved to rhyme. “And her: She must be punished…. Punished for her arrogance! Punished for her heresy! Her impudence! I will show her as well! She will see the foolish future she fights for!” Nikolai rose to his feet, running his one remaining hand through his messy, bloody hair with extreme, but slow force. He threw his head back and mumbled the final verse of his vow as the dawn crept closer. He allowed himself the immense pain the first rays of sunlight brought upon his lightly charred body. This was penance for his indignity. “I will show them that they fight for a corpse world, filled with corpse-like people, all working toward a rotten end…. Let the dead reign not over the land, for theirs is a false-freedom! May the immortal night come! The Bathorys shall rule yet! Only then….”</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Finally, Nikolai’s head fell to greet the sun for the first time in centuries. He would look upon it once, and then never again, as he was forced to duck into cover before he was wholly obliterated. Bits of ashen flesh flaked away from his face and body. He would live, but the pain would haunt him until his final death. A reminder not to stray from the honoured path ever again. “Only then shall we be saved….” Nikolai would not repeat the same mistake twice. Too much was riding on this. But he felt he had been visited upon by an angel, for next he saw visions: Visions of a battle to come. He knew exactly where to be, what time to be there at, and who he would face. Was this madness? Perhaps. It mattered not in the grand scheme though. All that mattered was the fact that Nikolai saw it, and that he would heed this vision, delusion, imagined scenario, whatever it was, to the letter. He would meet the last Von Braunschbank and her fiery-hearted comrade in the courtyard. There they would settle things before gods and men. Once and for all.  </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><hr/><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Under Arboreal Shades</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>500K WORDS BABY! WOOO!</p><p>Chapter 21 is here! If you've kept up with my tumblr, you'll know that this was going to take us to Ludinghal, but that I decided to make that chapter 22 to make it not so bloated or rushed. I hope this is still very enjoyable for you tho! Leave a comment, like, or message me on twitter or tumblr if you ever wanna give me critiques! I love to learn from my readers!</p><p>Tumblr: https://karmotrinedreams91.tumblr.com/</p><p>Twitter: https://twitter.com/KarmotrineDrea1</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The fourth morning had dawned over the village in which the Janssons resided since Amanda and Constanze arrived. It would be the last morning the sister witches and their friend Lotte would see over that land for a short while, one that seemed immeasurably long. What if one of them didn’t make it? What if they made but another of their entrapped friends didn’t? What if the town wouldn’t be here when they came back? Questions upon questions, all of which boding ill answers, bounced about the minds of everyone present. Even Lottes’ parents weren’t immune to it, though their faces were graced by soft, confident smiles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You remembered to pack a big enough blanket for yourself, right dear?” Mrs. Jansson asked of her daughter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte nodded as she looked over her two suitcases that were laid out on the kitchen room table beside Constanze and Amanda’s own luggage. “Yeah, I packed the really fluffy one you got me last year.” Indeed, the coat she’d soon be sporting was </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> fluffy. It was a dark tan parka with fluffy cuffs and an even fluffier hood. The rest of her attire was somewhat plain, but Lotte always did dress the part of the wall-flower if she was given the chance to. The only pieces that stood out were the gloves she had laid atop her luggage, and tan snow boots with a furry interior she had on her feet. The gloves were a faint orange color, complimenting her hair in tone, and were marked by a horizontal striped pattern of four jagged lines, green, black, white red, from wrist to knuckle, stitched into the backside of the hand. That same pattern was repeated on the tops of her snow boots. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The group was gathered around with Constanze and Amanda sat across from one another while Lotte stood in between the two, across from Mr. and Mrs. Jansson . The former parent was cooking up something at the stove, a quick dish for the road for all present. It was around six in the morning, and finally, the group felt prepared and well enough to get on the move. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good! Now… what else….” Mrs. Jansson tapped at her chin, examining each suitcase, filled to the absolute brim with minimized belongings and stuffed clothes and sundries. “Oh! Constanze, did you pack those extra doses of ichor I made for you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm.” Constanze nodded a tad solemnly. She was the most eager of the three to get going, but now that the day was here, the dread couldn’t help but rise up in her lungs. She could breathe, but everything felt weightier than should. “Once every morning until they're done. Ribs should be fine then?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yep!” Mrs. Jansson beamed with satisfaction. She was no doctor, but a little bit of ingenuity and herbal know-how could get a witch of her age and wisdom very far. “It’ll still feel sore even after that, but give it a week and you’ll feel peachy!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze grunted in thanks, “Mmm.” Just before Mr. Jansson slipped by and laid out simple omelette dishes for the three young witches to have. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There ya go! It’s nothin’ special, but I wasn’t sure when you’d be leaving.” Mr. Jansson rubbed the back of his head with a dopey smile. “I haven’t gotten up this early since my days working at the lumber mill! I thought you might want to wait until it got brighter, so I hope this isn’t bad on short notice.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You kiddin’ Mr. J?” Amanda asked as she forked a mouthful past her lips. “It’s great! Wouldn’t have it any other way.” She wasn’t about to turn her nose up at any well prepared meal, and the Janssons were pretty good at their cooking craft, which the sisters fully enjoyed over their stay. Especially since they’d be on the road again, this meal felt especially filling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze mouthed at her food more apprehensively, not out of questioning of the taste but out of general disinterest in eating right now. Amanda loved sensory distractions like this when it came to handling her stress, but Constanze just felt sick, and this wasn’t the kind of stress that her typical stimming seemed to handle. She could have sworn that she’d started to hear things ever since having that dream. It never repeated, but it felt like the sounds were following her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Two... three two three… one two….</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Constanze heard it seldom, but she swore she heard it. She didn’t swear to anyone’s face, mind you; she actually hadn’t spoken at all of the nightmare save for that it distressed her. She had promised she’d speak on her problem later, but that later seemed ever distant. Would she wait until Ludinghal to let the dam of emotions burst? Would she do it amidst their travel to that self-same town? Or would she suddenly just blurt it out here and now? The pressure was mounting, and Constanze didn’t know what the correct path was. What she did know though was that she had to eat something. “It’s good.” She murmured, earning a wider smile from Mr. Jansson before it fell away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong kurpitsa?” Mr. Jansson raised his brows at Lotte, who didn’t even seem to notice the dish placed before her. She was staring intently at her two suitcases, but it was clear that her mind was focused elsewhere. “Lotte?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No response came at first, and so Mrs. Jansson casually walked over and put an arm about her daughter’s shoulder. “Is everything alright?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eh!?” Lotte had fully zoned out, pulled back to the moment by touch alone. “Ahh…. Not… really, b-but….” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re probably hungry! Sit down muru, have some breakfast! You’re probably still hungry from last night.” Lotte had hardly touched what Mr. Jansson whipped up the evening prior. It set off alarm bells for him then, and this just solidified his concern, but like his wife, he was never one to show such concern as many others did. Instead he just smiled encouragingly, stepped around the table to be close to Lotte, and let his soft eyes do all the worrying work for him. “You know how you get when you don’t eat right.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know, it’s just that….” Lotte shook her head despondently. “Just how do you guys stay so calm?” It wasn’t the thing that had her zoned out, but it was the first cohesive thought that came to her lips, and so she ran with it. “It’s like nothing’s been wrong ever since the day after I first told you about this. How? How can you walk around like nothing’s happening?” Lotte almost sounded desperate in her tone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was that line of questioning left Constanze and Amanda both awkwardly silent. This was a family matter they were caught, quite literally, in the middle of. Both sisters scooted their chairs back an inch and continued to eat as quietly as possible. Mercifully, both Mr. and Mrs. Jansson weren’t bothered by it one bit. They looked to one another, returned their briefly disappeared smiles, and then looked back to Lotte. The latter spoke first, “Lotte,” And gently stroked the somewhat bed-headed hair of her daughter. “I know things have been peaceful around here for as long as you could remember.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Except maybe that time we almost became moss.” Mr. Jansson quickly quipped. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrs. Jansson pressed on as if he hadn’t said anything. “But it wasn’t always like that. Your father and I have lived long lives, muru, and even though we’re not ‘old,’ we’re not young either.” Lotte looked up at her mother and father with slight confusion. She wasn’t exactly sure where this was headed. “Your father and I went through many hardships before you were even born, on our own and together.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And we came out swinging through every ordeal!” Mr. Jansson’s fists were clenched proudly by his chest, wrapped about his suspenders. “Life was rough for us as kids, especially for your mother.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte blinked. “Really?” She was still confused, but intrigued nonetheless. Even Constanze and Amanda were paying keen attention now, as the Jansson parents had always been, not furtive, but unremarkable in terms of how they regarded their lives prior to Lotte’s birth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm!” Mrs. Jansson nodded candidly. “My family was very poor, and while we were never so unfortunate to go starving for more than a day, the fact that we had to worry about it at all was bad enough.” She sounded so nonchalant about what was indeed a demoralizing and grueling environment. She lived in a simple, small house with five siblings and but one parent; her father. “My mother, your grandmother, passed away when I was around eight or so. Papa always struggled so hard to keep the family fed though, and we did too. We helped him with any kind of work we could, even when he tried to force us just to be kids. He always said we were brimming with Sisu.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sisu?” Amanda didn’t know a lick of Finnish outside of greetings and goodbyes, and Constanze was hardly any better at the language. . </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte’s father filled the two non-Finnish speakers in. “There’s no word I can think of in english that fits it perfectly, but it’s like… courage. Not just courage though: It’s courage in the face of overwhelming adversity. Dogged stubbornness!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze touched her chin curiously. Vaal’s poem, or whatever it was, ran through her mind once more. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“We are iron… our bodies beset…. Bear the burden of living well….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Is that what Sisu meant?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mr. Jansson gestured to Amanda and Constanze both. “And I can say for certain that both of you have Sisu in spades!  After everything you’ve told us you’ve been through? Why I couldn’t have ever imagined it…. We’ve raised a hero, Helmi!” That was Mrs. Jansson’s first name; Helmi. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda and Constanze both chuckled awkwardly. Lotte protested with a vigorous head shake. “They’re the heroes! I’m just… along for the ride.” As always. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hölynpöly!” Mrs. Jansson wholeheartedly disagreed. “You’re brave enough to go with them, aren’t you?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“.... Yes….” Lotte still had her doubts, but she felt like she’d bludgeoned those metaphorical horses to death by now. She couldn’t dissuade Constanze or Amanda, and she herself couldn't find any arguments within her that were compelling enough to keep her away from this radical action. “But all I did before that was sit around and do nothing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda deeply frowned. “Lotte….” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not true.” Constanze interjected. “Vital info. Without you, we wouldn’t be here.” Her stern, curt, to the point objections were exactly what the Jansson parents were planning on saying. Constanze just made it easy for them. “And we won’t win without you either. Stay focused. Stay hopeful.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damn straight!” Amanda wagged her fork at Lotte after once again filling her mouth with omelette. She looked pretty serious even as she chewed. “You’ve always been there to keep me and Akko out of trouble in the best of times, and you’re always there to help us get by in the worst of times! Don’t sell yourself short!” Amanda swallowed her mouthful back and gave a determined smirk off, though Lotte was still unsure about all of it, so Amanda turned to comedy as a distraction. “Besides, selling themself short is Conz’s thing anyway.” Before she could even chortle at her own joke,a spoon from across the room became magnetically attracted to Amanda’s face. It slapped against her with some force, making a resounding ‘fwap’ on impact. “Ah! What the hell!?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze merely raised an eyebrow, leaning in from across the table with an otherwise blank expression. She was looking for two words in particular. “I was just kidding sis! Calm down!” That was too many words. Another spoon was sent her way and lodged itself in Amanda’s hair. The Janssons were stifling barely contained cackles and laughter at this point. “OW! Conz! Not the hair!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmmm?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok! Ok! I’m sorry! Sheesh! Stop making me the human-freakin-magnet!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mm.” That was better. With a flick of her wand, hidden beneath the table, Constanze de-magnetized Amanda, allowing the spoons to clatter down before being telekinetically put back where they should be. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda rubbed at her face and head, shooting Constanze the stink eye only to get a stuck-out tongue and sneer sent back. Then she looked to the Janssons, Lotte included, and saw them burst into laughter. Amanda slowly loosed up in expression and posture, chuckling a bit. “Eheh… ehhh….” Mission accomplished. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a minute or so merriment, the conversation came back around. “Anywho!” Mr. Jansson began. “If there’s anything we know about you and your friends, Lotte, it’s that you’re all strong in very particular ways. We’ve seen them come and go a lot over the years, and while they’re all very different from each other, they all have one thing in common: Sisu! Determination and grit! You got it too, Lotte! It’s in a Jansson’s blood!” He firmly patted the place where his heart was with his right hand while the other firmly gripped Lotte’s shoulder. “We’re not afraid anymore because we’ve built that Sisu up in us. We can joke in the face of all this tragedy because we know there’s a light at the end to look forward too. We can see you and your friends off with a smile because we trust you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And more importantly, we know that if we could get past our hardships, that you have the potential to overcome yours.” Mrs. Jansson squeezed Lotte once in a side hug. “Life tries us in many ways, and this is one of your trials, Lotte. Let it shape who you are.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte looked down at her lap as she fell into a seated position. Her parents knelt down at her side, maintaining their loving grips. “How is it going to shape me though? What if I don’t want to change that way.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Only you can change yourself.” Mrs. Jansson added sagely. “And no matter how you change, make sure you do it deliberately.” Lotte didn’t respond to that. She could only sigh and nod so as to end the conversation. Her head simply hurt too much to think on all of this now, and while she wholly loved and appreciated the sentiments and wisdom offered, she didn’t feel she was in a position to utilize it. “Now, how about you three finish eating and then we can see you off. The weather is supposed to be calm today, so you should be fine to fly as long as you want.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t forget to rest often though! Cross country trips can be exhausting!” Mr. Jansson clearly spoke from experience. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmhm.” Constanze nodded in acknowledgement, as did Amanda. “We’ll be ready in a half hour. Lotte?” She looked to the orange haired witch as if to ask for confirmation that the offered estimate was a good enough window. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s fine.” Lotte confirmed, nodding again as she began to eat, though her visage remained sullen and troubled. “Thanks guys, thanks mom, thanks dad….” She meant every word, but she just wished that she could have said them with a smile. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as promised, the weather was plain. Snow had come yesterday and left a soft blanket over the Finnish landscape, but now the sky was clear, and surprisingly sunny. The witches triumvirate were assembled a mere jaunt away from the Jansson home, with Mr. and Mrs. Jansson waiting in the wings. Their brooms were draping with luggage, minimized and otherwise. They were ready for damn near anything they could encounter on this journey. Their course was simple, but it had every chance to be interrupted. They would make for Ludinghal by way of the Struve Chain Leyline which had a portal near Taasia. From there they would appear south in Belarus, near Zediche, and would fly west toward the Bielaviežskaja national park where a leyline was rumored to be. From there, they would work out the details of travel as needed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Got it?” Amanda asked, having just finished reading through their little plan off the top of her head. She lowered the map to look at her compatriots who all nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte did so with hesitancy. She wasn’t any more confident now that she had food, but at least the slight headache that was forming had gone away. Even as her parents talked about all of the various warnings and “don’t forget abouts” they were obligated to go through by way of being parents, everything fell to white noise. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you actually about to go become a criminal? Are you even ready to be a mage? A witch who fights? You’re none of those things, and now suddenly, in a single day, you’re going to be ALL of them!?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her internal voice made all other audible stimuli hard to process. In one ear, out the other. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Get real, Lotte! This is way beyond you! You can turn back right now and do the sane thing! Just go to Porthcurno and wait for them there. You can find ways to be helpful then. You don’t need to</span>
  </em>
  <span>—” Lotte silenced that naysaying with a sharp exhale; an annoyed sigh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm? Lotte?” Constanze queried.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No! I’m going to be something from now on. No more just going along for the ride…. I’m not the one who started this, and I’m not a great witch either, but they need me and… and…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lotte? Yoohoo? Are you well?” Mrs. Jansson prodded her daughter gently, earning a quick turn of the head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A-Ah! S-Sorry mama! I was just… thinking about stuff. It’s a-alot to take in, and y-you know how I get.” Lotte always did have a penchant to overplan whenever she was left in charge of something. Luckily Amanda and Constanze were around to anchor her spiraling anxieties. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, my sweet kullanmuru, we know you’ll rise to the occasion.” Mrs. Jansson had full confidence in her daughter. She herself was terrified of what was going on in the world, but in a strange way, she was glad for Lotte. Mrs. and Mr. Jansson had seen times of struggle like this come and go throughout their lives, and it was those who struggled the most who grew the most, in mind, body and soul. They would be proud of Lotte unto the end, for she would no doubt exit this time a changed, and wonderful woman. Well, maybe not a woman, but that tale is yet to be told.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Never hesitate to call us though! It’s not brave to fight something all on your own.” Mr. Jansson assured them. “We’ll do anything we can to help from here. And the village will be just as safe as when you left it.” Then he got a wonderful idea, one that already had him brimming with excitement. “And when it’s all over you should invite all of your friends for one big feast! The whole town can get in on it!” No doubt that when this battle with the Bathorys was ended, there would be a time for celebration. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That comforted Lotte at least, and grounded her just before the takeoff. “Thanks papa. I’d love that…. Would you guys want to do that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hell yeah!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.” A thumbs up accompanied Constanze’s confirmation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Smiles lit up the group. A celebratory feast to welcome home the heroes; there would need to be one for the fallen though, a grim fact that all present currently ignored, if only for the sake of their own well being. Now wasn’t a time to get despondent. Hope would carry the day. Hope would see them to and through Ludinghal. Hope would bring the dawn. And so hope carried them. Goodbyes were given. Hugs and kisses all around from the Jansson parents left the cheeks of all present, but especially Lotte, warm with compassion. Then the wind kissed them all too differently. They were away, where eagles dared, flying south to Taasia, the southernmost point of the Struve Chain in Finland. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a minute or so of travel, once the triumvirate was settled in their glide, the sisters got chatting. They were mostly discussing the matters of reforging Dyrnwyn and Carnwennan, and on what to do about any other gear they might need. Constanze seemed adamant about Amanda using the chain-shot gauntlet she crafted, but Amanda had other ideas. In her mind, once the Shadow-Dagger was rebuilt, she wouldn’t have needed something like the gauntlet. Constanze couldn’t argue against the logic, but she had put a lot of hard work and effort into that piece nonetheless. On and on they went as Lotte fell back into her internal dialogue: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“So is that really what you want to be? Is that what your friends have become?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“They’re not evil! We’re not doing anything wrong!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh sure, but you might just have to shoot someone. To HURT someone. Someone innocent. That’s not wrong?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“W-We…. Only if-if we have to! And, and, and, Constanze said….”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Constanze said this, Amanda said that! You want to be something but you just listen to what people tell you. When are you going to make people hear what YOU have to say?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I-I don’t need to</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“But you WANT to.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And? Just because I want something doesn’t mean it’s right!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“But do you want this?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Truly this plan seemed one fueled by desperation. Is this what Lotte wanted? Constanze clearly had more intention in this than just filming the video there, but she also knew that Constanze wasn’t just suggesting this for her own ends. Constanze wasn’t selfish or inefficient like that. And Amanda trusted her judgement, and she seemed not all that worried either, now that she had time to walk it through her head and discuss it with her sister. Lotte had been left in the metaphorical dust though as far as being on board with things went. She still had no idea how she’d reconcile her actions should worse come to worst. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte sighed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I just have to trust them for now. This is NOT the time OR the place to get all stuck up in my own stupid problems….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>All she could do for now, at least in her mind, was tuck it away. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“We’ll play it safe, and we’ll beat those ugly vampires.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> It was one thing to fight a blatantly evil group such as the Bathorys. It was another thing to stand against the powers that be in any way shape or form, even in such a minor one as to sneak past a fenced in zone. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s all it’s gonna be, right?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lotte rationalized. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Just a fenced off town with some watch towers and guards who probably just want to go to bed! Nothing major, nothing serious…. We just float on by or sneak past and do a little video. No one gets hurt, no one feels bad and… and….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lotte sighed again after along minute of contemplation. This time she was just tired sounding. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“And then the real fight begins….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lotte never prayed to the Nine, or any deity prior, but she was looking for intervention from above, below, within and without to aid them in this journey. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hours passed by, mercifully, as they would be expected to. It was a humdrum trek across the Finnish country that saw the trio to Taasia, and then another hour spent in the leyline had them appearing in Belarus. Again, the ride was simple, tranquil even. One might forget the chaos in the world in moments like this. Banter was shared, jokes were had, and uncomfortable silence often followed those moments of levity. The full weight of their journey could never truly be escaped, and it never felt safe to stop anywhere, for the news was all but hopeful and comforting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once they’d emerged from the leyline, leaving them in Balrus, Constanze managed to get her wand linked to witch-net  and decided to run an online radio cast to help provide insight into what was going on in the world. Maybe they’d hear something about Ludinghal or Luna Nova, though both wished to hear nothing at all about either locale. No news was good news in that regard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And that was our report on the continued investigation by Algerian and Moroccan officials into the firestorms raging across North-Western Africa.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The voice was of a reporter by the name of Phou Manivong, and sounded masculine and slightly dry in tone.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “One thing is certain: These storms are not a natural arcane phenomenon. Hopefully, due to the willingness of the Algerian and Moroccan states to work with, and actively request the aid of magically capable specialists, this crisis can hopefully be solved before more damage is done to the farmers in the region….” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The reports were in most languages, and ran on a cycle every four hours, updating constantly to try and keep pace with the frantic news cycle of the globalized world. It didn’t sound too dissimilar to the “mundane” media outlets, though it lacked the dreads of advertisement, and heavily focused on more arcane events. Understandably, it favored the magical factions and beings of the world, and spoke much on their plights and struggles. The broadcast continued, nearing the end of this update: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Now, our cycle is coming to an end, but within a few hours you’ll be getting new updates on these quickfire stories as they emerge. To give you a list of the headlines, let’s run through them quickly. Of course, as with every quickfire roundup, we have no idea whether these breaking stories are true, or if they are, how much of the content therein is true. That said, if you have any information on these budding reports, please, we advise you to contact us at Cabal News Network dot spell. Please submit your name and any applicable mode of contact you may have so that we can follow up with you….”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>Amanda glanced at Lotte as the announcer went on. “Maybe we could send that video of ours in. Once we film it of course.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I… considered calling something like Cabal anyway, but I didn’t think to mention it.” Lotte shook her head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda leaned to the right of her broom. “Why not?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’d be a waste of time that I don’t know if we even have.” Lotte sounded almost dejected at the explanation she gave, as if the fact offended her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda seemed all the more confused, but Constanze was able to explain. “Need hard evidence. A video isn’t hard evidence. Not a video like what we’re making. Three witnesses is good, but we have no other proof.” Constanze shared Lotte’s annoyance at the fact of their inability to go to the more easily accessible outlets of witching media. “Might be able to convince them to mention it or invite us on, but that could take days.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte picked up where Constanze left off. “I don’t doubt that we’d get the help we need if we went to Cabal with this, but what if it’s too late by then?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda nodded solemnly. “Yeah, yeah…. I getcha.” Then she rolled her shoulders and sighed. “It just sucks being kept in the dark like this. We still don’t even know if all of this is still a secret to everyone but the people we told.” If only matters were simpler. The trio had no idea how much or how little the Bathorys and the Fates knew, or how well the barrier was holding. Amanda was most concerned with another rogue factor though: “Do you guys really think that some jarheads might actually do something as crazy as bomb the island?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte had no way to answer that, and so she glanced away, hiding the dread on her face. Constanze however seemed far too certain that things would go poorly if the situation was discovered by the powers that be. She spoke tersely, almost spitefully. “Worse things have been done for worse reasons. Ends just the means. They wouldn’t care.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda knew the words to be true to some extent, if not wholly so, but she couldn’t easily imagine that something so inhumane could be ordered without issue. Would no actors from within protest it? Would the grunts resist the order? “I know everyone was worried about it, and look, you ain’t about to hear me lickin’ boots, but, seriously…?” Constanze merely grunted grimly in response. Amanda leaned back on her broom and held her face with a sigh. “Shit, shit, shit….” They could only trust in themselves and those masses who rose up to aid them. The broadcast, meanwhile, had just finished up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“This has been a Cabal News Network update. Stay safe out there listeners. Nine knows that things are only gonna get worse before they get better.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Even the reporter seemed despondent toward the end; his dry and clinical reading of events couldn’t hold forever. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With his final words, Constanze switched off the broadcast; they’d heard enough. “Mmmm. Close?” She asked of Lotte who had the map. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y-yeah, we’re getting there…. Just need to…. Yeah we’re pointed too far south.” Lotte gestured for them to orient their brooms more to the right and so they did. Lotte then looked back to the map and followed the magically moving arrow that showed their location. “We should be entering the park now, but I don’t know where the portal station is here. Do you think we could ask around?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda shifted her jaw from left to right with uncertainty. “Uhhh…. Oi, do you guys... speak Russian?” No response followed, as expected. Constanze knew a few simple phrases and statements she picked up from Jasminka, but none of them were fluent. “Well fuck.” Amanda lazily held her cheek and slumped forward on her broom. “So much for not wasting time.” Maybe they should have thought this through more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm. Mm-mmm.” Luckily, Constanze had done just that. She pulled out her re-assembled magical detector. It may not have as many uses anymore now that magic was reborn across the land, but ley-lines were </span>
  <em>
    <span>especially</span>
  </em>
  <span> powerful in terms of their magical signal. They overpowered almost everything else in terms of scale and scope. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda recognized the tool from their many adventures and saw her own expression lighten up; her hand went back down to her broom. “Eyyy, nice thinking, sis!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“O-Oh! You’ve got a sensor-thing for it! Neat!” Lotte too saw her worries fall away for a brief moment; her existential frown replaced by a soft smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.” Constanze affirmed while turning on the device which acted like a sort of geiger counter for magical enter. “Follow. Shouldn’t take long.” The order preceded Constanze urging her broom forward. She herself saw no change in emotion, for the weight of things to come was especially heavy on her. The closer they got to the portal, the closer they got to Ludinghal. The clicking of her magical sensor didn’t help either. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Two three one two three three…. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That blasted rhythm leaked through the ticks and tacks of her device, wearing ever so slowly away at Constanze’s stonewall composure. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Gott I hope I can keep it together….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> All they needed was for Constanze to get them caught due to a breakdown on her part. She already hated losing control of her emotions in a general sense, and her blunder on the mountaintop had only exacerbated that to the level of being near phobia. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Need to trust them.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze thought as she glanced back to make sure her sister and friend were keeping pace. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Have to. They're all I have right now.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Then she looked forward again once she saw them close behind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The trio of brooms flew true across the wooded parkland, soaring over the treetops where birds would congregate in the warmer seasons. The air was dead though; winter had come. The feathered beings, the mundane ones who couldn’t stand winter at least, had all flown south. Even the magical creatures of the air were seldom about during winter hours, save Frost Beetles and Glacial Doves, but such creatures were rarely spotted in the daytime. Soon though, night would be upon them, and one way or another, the triumvirate would need to find a place to stay, or make one themselves. It was suicide to fly in the winter at night; such frigid weather was not to be trifled with, even by witches.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nine willing, luck was on their side. An hour may have passed, but it was an hour well spent. With the spikes and dips in readings, Constanze was able to triangulate a likely location for the portal, and thus they descended into the wood as an early winter moon rose over the horizon. As their feet touched the lightly snow covered ground, the trio found themselves beset upon by wayward eyes of creatures who did not hibernate in these long winter months. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ghostly stags illuminated themselves from the brush, carrying out a simulacra of the behavior of their once living existence. Winter owls watched from afar with piercingly curious eyes; some of which seemed to have strange patterns on their feathers, denoting arcane influence at the time of birth. The group even spotted a few Snow-Puff dogs, or Ice-Prairie Pups as they are otherwise known. They were gentle, but long toothed balls of white and grey fur with two or three beady little eyes. They usually sat still, near motionless in the snow, only coming out when small prey came tumbling about or when they grew hungry enough to gnaw apart the bark of nearby trees to get at the crunchy and nutrient rich center. They didn’t walk so much as rolled everywhere, that is, until spring came, when they shed their winter coats like a bad hair day and revealed their armadillian and mole like body. Hibernation for them began when the heat rose, and they took refuge in deep dirt tunnels to remain cool while their coats grew back, thus beginning their cycle anew. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Little insects of the winter nights, untouched and unphased by the biting cold, flittered about the grove in which they landed. Amanda, Lotte, and Constanze were all awestruck in a way. It was the little sights like this that kept surprising them. They knew what it was like to be out in a forest at night, but to be out in a forest at night when magic spilled over the land? That was something else entirely. Lotte herself found the Snow-Puffs to be absolutely adorable, and so she reached down to pet one. The first was less than interested in human contact, and so it snapped at her, but the one beside it was curious and unrooted itself from the compact snow to inch itself toward her. It accepted her scritching with a gurgling purr, sounding almost like a cat and a bird mixed together. “Awwww…. What a good little boy!” The puffy creature shook itself as a wet dog might before rolling over, bidding Lotte scratch it further, which she wholly welcomed. “Who’s a little fluffy boy? You are! That’s right!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda couldn’t help but chuckle. “Try not to get too attached, we got a portal to find.” By now, the strangeness of the human presence became unimportant to the rest of the creatures, and so they went about their business. Thus, Amanda looked up and around with a shivered breath before she summoned up a flame to the end of her wand to keep the group warm. “Alright sis, where to?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm….” Constanze had been circling the small clearing since she snapped out of her naturalist daze. She liked wondering at animals, magical ones especially, as much as the next person, but she wasn’t keen on taking long to find this ley-line. After some pacing, she found a direction that bore a particularly strong signal. “East.” With a point eastward, Constanze drew her wand and started clearing away the underbrush with simple magics to bid the plants aside or to reshape parts of the earth to create small ramps and paths for them to walk on. Amanda and Lotte followed suit, the latter needing to jog to catch back up after having spent a few too many seconds petting the Snow-Puff which curiously whooped upon Lotte’s departure. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their trek east was simple at least. The forest wasn’t as dark as one might think with all of the luminescent flowers and bugs of frost that gave the shadows betwixt trees a blue and teal aura, as if they radiated magic from their very core; and indeed, some probably did. The tree they were after, unbeknownst to the group, was close by, and unveiled itself to them as Constanze’s counter spikes, and suddenly broke. It wasn’t permanently damaged, but the needle read on the maximum setting and wouldn’t go down until Constanze turned it off. “Getting close.” She knew well what that meant. The group hastened their pace, with Constanze still taking charge with an unerring, prodigious step, just as Amanda more daringly leapt over any obstacles or practiced her acrobatics with wind magic to get by anything bigger. Lotte meanwhile stumbled and looked around in a dreamlike daze, but she didn’t get lost. She was as much a witch as her two friends, but even now, after five years of living in a world now brimming with magic, the sensations produced by that new state of natural being never ceased to amaze her. Everything was like from one of the novels she dove into as a child. They made Nightfall seem almost normal in comparison, were it not for the absurdity of the time travel and dimensional hopping present in those tales. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, the path became so clear to them that they couldn’t miss it. Constanze, Amanda, and Lotte all came to realize around the same time that they were no longer walking on compact snow or hoar-frosted dirt, but on mighty roots which snaked out from the ground. The very size of these appendages spoke well of the collsass that lay hidden nearby, invisible from above, but a titan from below. Even the canopy of pine trees and boreal plant life was now being replaced with the messy mazes of arching branchwork and tunneling roots. Their quick pace became slower until they reached a careful tread through the tunnels of boughs and ticketed wood. Were it not for Lotte’s aid in gently whispering to the bark that impeded them, Amanda would have had to start slashing and burning just to make progress. Instead, the rooted tunnels gave way to woodland highway as the ancient grove welcomed them. They exited from the relative darkness of the rootwalls to the nightly mystique that fell in the wake of the enchanted oak which carried the ley-line portal they sought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a truly titanic organism. An entire acre of land lay untouched by any other plantlife, for the uneven writhing roots had taken over every inch of earth. It towered high above any other tree reaching the heights of a city building, reminiscent more of redwoods in California than of any typical tree of Eastern Europe. Its pines were unmistakable though, placing it firmly as some primeval relative of the rest of the forest which stirred around it, as if this were the beating heart, the origin from which all else sprung in these woods. In it’s center, within the trunk that stood about fifty feet wide, a pathway made of stone and root led up to a great gaping maw illuminated by the greens, blacks, and whites of the ley-line energies. They had arrived. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mein gott….” Even in her determined, no-nonsense state of mind, Constanze couldn’t disregard the majesty before her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re tellin’ me.” Amanda quipped, wiping her brow of cold sweat before she put her hands at her hips. “That’s one big fucking tree.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t read much about this ley-line, but I’m honestly really surprised we didn’t see it coming in.” Lotte couldn’t imagine something so massive could be so easily missed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe it’s enchanted or something?” Posited Amanda as she began to slow and careful descent down the roots, aiding Constanze along the way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It must be a really old enchantment then. A-And a really powerful one too!” Lotte just </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to know what this place was. The beauties of nature and its magical wonders when in harmony with the olde peoples of Earth astounded her. Much like the study of spirits and Fae, druidry was a special interest of hers when it came to arcane topics. Sadly though, she knew they couldn’t stay long, so instead she met herself in the middle. With her wand, she snapped simple pictures with flashes of light, catching sights of spritely spirits dancing about the grove. “Oooh! I don’t think we’re alone!” Normally one might hear that and be afraid, but that delighted Lotte to no end. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda and Constanze looked about where Lotte flashed her light, marvelling at the sea of ghostly forms bearing only the crudest of humanoid shapes to them. Despite their uncanny human resemblance, they drifted harmlessly through the air, as if this place was their home; their resting place. Thus the two sisters managed a soft smile each. Maybe it was good that they weren’t alone. It meant someone gentle was watching over them, spirit or no. “Mmmm. Mmm, mm.” Constanze grunted and gestured to the ghosts curiously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte quirked her head at first, not being the best at understanding Constanzes’ more complex grunts, but silently “ohhhed” at Amanda’s explanation: “Yeah, maybe they’re the ones keeping this place all secret. Lotte, you’d know more about that right? Do you think these spirits are guardians or something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y-Yeah! That would actually make a lot of sense.” Though Lotte seemed uncertain about her answer. She grunted in effort while heaving herself over a particularly large root to keep pace with her friends and spoke again after catching her breath. “But usually that would mean that something’s binding them here, like a waystone, or a kind of obelisk like thing…. You know, something to ground the spirits in our world.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, I get yah.” Amanda peered about in search of such a structure, and the other two joined her, but nothing seemed to turn up. What caught Amanda’s eye though lay on the tree itself. They were now just about forty yards from it and could clearly see that on the roof of the chasm within the truck that contained the ley-line, a sort of carving was present, illuminated only by the eminent light of the portal. “Hey, you guys see that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?” Constanze looked up at her sister’s gesture. “Mmm. We got a light?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah! One sec.” Lotte hummed to herself as she ran through her mental catalogue of spells. “Oh! Right! Ahem….” Lotte lifted her wand up and pointed it toward the portal. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Luminaria Lux!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A bright ball of light swelled at the tip of her casting tool before firing off from her wand at high speed. It silently coasted through the air before coming to an abrupt halt mid air. It’s light was like the sun, pure and radiant, and gave clarity to what the shadows obscured. What they saw only awed them further:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A great mural, carved in the wood from a time gone by, an age Arcturian, or perhaps beyond, depicted a feminine figure, a mother of plants, horned with the antlers of a stag, holding wide her arms out to welcome the travelers who passed through the portal from on high. Braided patterns and repetitions of spirals, Triskelion circles, dotted the sides of the arches, and without from there, more carvings, this time of smaller humans and Fae, all tending to the great tree with offerings of nutrients and ancient tools for gardening. Above them, vague humanoid shapes marked by black pits, no doubt representations of the spirits which dwelt in the clearing all around them, fanned out in a sea of reaching limbs and gentle expressions, looking down upon the living with the same kindness that the great antlered witch in the center had. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Woah….” That was the response of just about all three of them, though Constanze didn’t make any noise. She seemed almost unsettled by the mural, not by its scope, but by one being in particular. The antlered witch, opulent and resplendent in her depiction, reminded her of someone that yet evaded her immediate memory, if only because she had heard a second hand description of her. Constanze’s eyes became locked on that rendition, searching for the name that haunted her; no, that haunted </span>
  <em>
    <span>all of them</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright! Ley-line here we come! Let’s go guys! I’m starting to get numb in the fingers!” AManda’s enthusiastic call snapped Constanze out of it and bade her follow as her sister began jogging and rolling over the roots with semi-practiced athleticism. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte again kept pace, but with difficulties. “W-Why aren’t you wearing gloves then!?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda joked loudly as she reached the walkway up to the portal. “Too lazy to get them out!!” Lotte could only groan and sigh in response. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once the trio was assembled just before the gate, Constanze stopped to catch her breath, as did Lotte. They weren’t as physically fit as Amanda, who still breathed heavily, but stood taller than the others. “Did you… really have to run?” Asked Constanze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda threw her arms and let them fall to her sides. “What? I was cold! I’m tryna stay warm here!” She had a half smile on her face. The feelings of adventure and wanderlust were strong in her. It was discoveries like this that made her yearn so desperately to strike out into the world like she had ever since her expulsion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Could you please….” Lotte bent over to hold her kneecaps with both hands. “Phew…. Please just put on some gloves….” She sounded like Jasminka with how motherly that came out. Sure enough. Amanda obliged, giving the group time to make sure they had everything they brought with them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Brooms…. Check…. Luggage…. Check…. Wands…. Check.” Constanze ran through the metaphorical list, nodding with each confirmation. “We got everything?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda looked around and nodded as well before her head shot up in realization. “Oh! Wait! Lemme make sure I got my keys.” Amanda eagerly checked her coat and pants pockets, rummaging about in them with a curious but content look on her face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your… keys?” Lotte was dumbfounded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah! The keys to my—” Then it dawned on Amanda. “Oh my god…. MY BIKE!” She had her keys alright, but it wasn’t like she brought the Lune Rouge with them. “Ohhhh </span>
  <em>
    <span>god</span>
  </em>
  <span> dammit!” Her hands rose to her face, holding it in complete despondency. Her posture fell over into a hunched lean. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze felt her eyebrow twitch. “Mmmmm….?” She meant to ask with her grunt: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re only realizing this now?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, if they SCRATCHED MY BABY AFTER YOU FIXED HER UP! I swear…. Mother…. Aughghhh!” Amanda was beyond reasoning in those moments. It was like her pride and joy had been torn from her heart and tossed into a pit. “Look we NEED to get my bike back when this is all done!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that really something we should be worrying about right now!?” Lotte couldn’t believe Amanda was torn up over a bike and </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> over the crushing sense of existential dread that seemed to haunt Lotte and Constanze wherever they went. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In truth, Amanda was simply great at grinning and bearing it. “Yes! It is! It’s my baby!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Schwester.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you. But you’re an idiot.” There could be no more perfect a monotone than Constanze’s in that instance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? And?” Amanda leaned over to Constanze, her hands squarely on her hips, and her face scowling in defiance. She wasn’t denying anything! She needed her “baby’ back damn you! “Being and idiot got me this far didn’t it?! Hell you’re the one who put her back together! Shouldn’t you be all torn up to? Hell, when Jasminka broke that blender you made for her you were torn up over it for </span>
  <em>
    <span>weeks</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm!” Constanze leaned forward in turn, matching Amanda’s sibling aggression. “Not just a blender! Blender, oven, microwave, and sink all in one, </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank you very much!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She took great pride in her gift making, and that piece in particular was a very difficult one to get working.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Guys!” Lotte groaned. Can you guys argue on the way there? The ride could still take a few hours! Time gets all weird in leylines, remember?” It wasn’t often when she had to be the voice of reason, but when she did, it was usually a sign that things had truly gotten derailed. The sisters both leered at each other before upturning their faces at one another and getting on their brooms. Lotte gave a sigh of relief. “Alright, after me, okay?” Her friends nodded and gave lazy vocal responses; grunts in Constanze’s case, and muffled “yeahs” in Amanda’s. “Good!” With that, Lotte mounted her broom and summoned from her luggage the skull of Malitrix. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Maximozious!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The skull took on its proper size and flashed it’s eyes thrice in what must have been a greeting as Lotte held it close to her face. “Ok Maly, I need you to help us here. I’m not that familiar with this highway, but maybe you could help us?” The skull flashed once in agreement. “Great! Ok, so you remember where we’re trying to go right?” Another singular signaled a “yes” response. “Could you tell us when we should exit the highway then?” A pause followed before a final confirmation lit up Lotte’s face, both literally with how the light reflected off of Malitrix’s gemstone eyes, and with how she smiled. “Awesome! Start flashing when we get close, alright?” With that matter settled, Lotte secured Malitrix to her broom much like how she secured her old skull-lantern. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Tia Freyre!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her broom took flight with the words of power and she was quick to dive into the portal. Her form became hazy and obscured before disappearing into the spiral, leaving Constanze and Amanda to follow in her wake.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda took flight first. “You know I’m still mad you fixed my bike using trash.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you ever going to let that down?” Constanze did so afterward.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nope.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Noted.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That means I’m never living down that time you got me in trouble for stealing my fireworks launcher.” Constanze was of course referring to that time Amanda and Sucy got drunk and tried to start a riot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ugh! Why does everyone think we were trying to start a riot?! We were just having fun!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You said it, not me.” Constanze then left before Amanda could even fire back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You—! I mean…. It was—” Only then did she realize how she painted herself into a corner, and that Constanze wasn’t even around to hear her come back. Amanda sighed heavily as she lazily drifted into the portal. “I really gotta learn when to shut my own damn mouth….” Too bad Amanda enjoyed her loud-mouthed nature all too much to ever let it go. It was part of what made Amanda, Amanda, after all.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The passage through the ley-line was humdrum. As humdrum as something could be nowadays. They were glad not to be beset upon by visions of strife in the waking world, but the very occasional spectre, mysteries in the corner of their vision, kept the trio on edge. Tendrils, black as the void, blended in with the black veins that spiraled throughout the ley-line tunnel. Something felt wrong, and even Lotte had the sinking notion in her gut that they were being watched. None spoke of it though. All of their fear remained internal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Just seeing things.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze reasoned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I really need to get better sleep tonight….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lotte sighed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well it’s not like shit wasn’t weird enough already.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Amanda meanwhile just assumed it was nothing dangerous. She and the others were acting on the modus operandi they had set about the inexplicable strangeness of the not-tower that never existed near Luna Nova. To speak of it would invite headaches and dizziness; bleeding noses. They assumed a similar thing might happen with the tendrils and the darting, amorphous entities that flitted in the distant, infinite greens and whites of magical energy. So long as the trio didn’t think about it too hard, it would go away, right?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It most certainly did, but not because they ignored it, but because Malitrix began to flash violently, signalling the end of their journey. Lotte’s eyes, downcast in a tired droop, shot wide open as her posture stiffened. “Hmm? Are we there Maly!?” Singular flashes came in intervals of ten seconds, marking Malitrix’s agreement. “H-Hey! Guys! If you’re asleep, wake up!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmmmhmmmm….” Constanze wasn’t asleep, but she was quite tired herself. Anger and anxiety could only take her so far. If anything, it just made her more tired. “Heard you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Loud and clear, Lotte! Where’s our exit?” Amanda was more awake compared to the others. She was used to, no, she reveled in the long rides that came with road trips. This was nothing compared to some of the singular broom rides she’d made in the past.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um….” Lotte paused to scan the tunnel up down and side to side until she saw a whirlpool on the “ceiling” of the tunnel. “There!” She pointed to it, and with her motion, Malitrix blinked excitedly. “That’s our stop!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright! Up and out we go!” Amanda whipped her wand to attention and flicked it once. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Typherious Phos!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The spell had her broom soaring past Constanze and Lotte. The latter was quick to hasten her broom to match Amanda’s speed while Constanze more gently cruised into the tunnel above. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze may have been the one to suggest this trip to Ludinghal, but her growing regret was a duplicitous and fickle thing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“No turning back now.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She knew it would serve only as a distraction, for the path before them was immutable. They would go to Ludinghal. They would do what they needed to, both Constanze and the trio as a whole, and then they would make for Porthcurno. Nine willing, they would find a host of brave witches to aid them in the fight to come, but Constanze was not a woman of faith. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Even if the odds are terrible, we have to try.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The strength of defiance was the only thing Constanze knew they would all have at their backs when the fighting against the Bathorys began again in earnest. Whether or not that would be enough was yet to be seen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze’s final thought preceded the crossing of the threshold. The final thing she saw of the ley-line was a blinding flash as the waking world became clear to her once again. The light faded slowly as her eyes adjusted to the darker, but surprisingly luminous, locale they found themselves in. The light of the portal behind them made their immediate surroundings clear, but beyond that, lanterns and candles, floating in the air, or draped from great stalks and stems of plants bent in the vague shape of street-lamps gave clarity to the walkways that lined what was undeniably a village. Huts and homes, made from stone and bark in walls and foundation, roofed with thatch and bound leaves from megafauna-esque trees, dotted the vast grove before them. It matched the grove the trio had just departed from in size, but where the prior place was swarmed by the hungering roots of the tree that lived there, this place was far more hospitable. Roots did indeed stretch and strain to reach far and wide, but they grew </span>
  <em>
    <span>around</span>
  </em>
  <span> the homes of the village, along the dirt and cobblestone pathways, over small, partially man-made creeks and rivers, forming arches and bridges. In fact, there were no signs of pruning </span>
  <em>
    <span>at all</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The grand tree, carved similarly to the one in Belarus, grew alongside the humans and Fae that could be seen scattered across the village, going about their evening activities with ease and splendor. This was a place of harmony, and the very air carried such serenity with the smell of mint, flowery scents, and baked goods finding its way to the noses of the new arrivals. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze, Lotte, and Amanda all inhaled reflexively. If they weren’t feeling very awake before, they were now. “Well I’ll be damned….” If the grove of spirits was awe inspiring, then this was downright fantastical to behold.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I didn’t know a… whole village would be here.” Lotte couldn’t even imagine why such a community existed. Just how long was it here? Based on the lack of roads and clearings on the edge of the space where the forest became thick once more, any travel outside of the village must have been done almost exclusively by foot, portal, or broom, making it quite the secluded location; assuming one wasn’t a witch or Fae, it seemed. “Just how old is this place?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we can find out.” Amanda dismounted her broom and gestured down the ramp made of stone and wood, pointing to a small procession of ten or so individuals wearing simple, but varied attire. Some were Fae, but most were humans, and they were led by a figure cloaked in soft, minty greens, adorned by a crown of nine different flowers. Their features were hidden from afar, but they seemed to command some respect with how they walked, gentle as their stride might have been. “They seem friendly enough.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm…. Should be careful anyway.” Constanze dismounted as Lotte did. Both put their brooms over their shoulders while Amanda leaned against hers more casually. “Hopefully they don’t mind.” Constanze referred both to their presence, and to the fact that she was reaching for her pen and paper. She wasn’t in the mood to speak with strangers, friendly or otherwise. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, as the small crowd drew closer, the soft, natural smiles on the faces of the Fae and humans alike spoke to their innocence. The Mint-Cloaked witch led them and held out her arms wide and low, welcoming the triumvirate. “Friede sei mit Euch, Reisende. Willkommen in Donars Eiche.” She was an elderly woman, likely in her seventies. Her skin was pale and her hair was spindly, short, and a faded pink color; soft like rose. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For Amanda’s sake, Constanze translated in writing. “Peace be upon you, travellers. Welcome to Donar’s Oak.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda nodded as she read the paper. “Donar’s oak, eh?” It didn’t ring any bells, but it sounded important just by how it was named after some person; at least she assumed it was named after a person. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just after Amanda spoke, The Mint-Cloaked witch turned to one of her compatriots, a humanoid being made entirely of plant-matter, but unlike dryads and ents, they were far more floral in appearance. “Ahhh, es scheint, Sie sprechen Englisch. Gerbera, könntest du bitte für mich übersetzen?” The Sylvan Fae nodded once and looked back to the trio while pondering on what to say. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’d she say now?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Someone named Gerbera is going to translate for us.” Constanze wrote out before looking to the crowd expectantly alongside her sister.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte meanwhile tapped at her chin thoughtfully.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Donar…. Donar….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The name seemed familiar. It sounded mythological in origin, but the exact correlation wasn’t coming to her easily. The familiarity of the name had Lotte so curious that she lost her way in the conversation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An awkward silence fell over the group for a few moments before the Sylvan, Gerbera, stepped forward and raised a four-digit hand to wave at the newcomers. “Hello there! I apologize if my speaking is rough, it has been a long time since I used this language.” As a Fae of course, almost all languages came to Gerbera naturally, so long as they originated on Earth, of course. And indeed, Gerbera’s speaking seemed a bit robotic, ironically enough given he was no Rust Fae, but a Wyld Fae. His build and structure was, as stated, humanoid, but as one might infer from his four fingers instead of five, there were key differences that made his kind stand out from humanity in terms of shape. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stood around five foot five, not counting the root and leaflike growths atop his head that reached up another half a foot. His body was predominantly dark green in coloration, composed of heavily compact, thick vines wrapped snugly about a flexible wooden frame. The bumps and tones that would come with muscle were simulated by the vines and by way of protruding chunks of wood from the center, which also included a spike that protruded from where his heart should be, though most of the wood there was surrounded by ever-blooming gerbera flowers, hence the name which he took. Lastly, his face was sharp, for it was more like a carved wooden mask that had been so perfectly detailed to represent a human face that one might believe it to be the work of machine printing, or divine construction. His words were crisp in a way that was hard to describe; energetic, but reserved. Lively, pleasant, but never over the top or too loud. “I will be speaking on behalf of our Grove Ward, Lady Adelinde.” His accent was notably German though, a product of the place in which he had spent many years. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Much obliged uh….” Amanda snapped her fingers. Her signature smirk returned to her face. “Gerbera, right?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, that is the name I have.” Gerbera’s English wasn’t perfect, not for lack of ability, but merely due to such prolonged use of solely German. He wasn’t incorrect in what he said at least; merely awkward sounding, and rigid in delivery. He gave pause for the Mint-Cloaked Witch to speak, and would continue to await her word before offering his own piece, unless he had something specific to add. “We are glad to have visitors. We are still becoming accustomed to travelers into our sacred wood, but we hope that our hospitality is not very poor.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze assured Gerbera and company with a written note, written in German and in English so as to make sure the meaning was not lost. “You said we were at Donar’s Oak. Where is that geographically?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A pause followed as the translation went back and forth; this would become more fluid and expected as the conversation went on. Gerbera eventually replied with what Adelinde had to say. “We are within the nation of Germany; Hesse to be more accurate. Our exact location is something we like to keep secret however, because we wish to remain alone.” Gerbera gestured above to the shadowing canopy, illuminated by traces of moonlight that streaked down through the gaps. “The Oak of Donar keeps us hidden, and it is our duty to tend to it. That is why we must keep it secret.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s it!” Exclaimed Lotte with scholarly suddentity. Her friends and the group of locals all raised their brows and jolted in slight surprise, turning to the Finnish witch. “O-Oh! Um…. Sorry! Uhhh… I  just remembered what Donar means, is all!” With a nervous laugh, Lotte turned to Constanze. “Could you t-translate for me? I don’t wanna seem weird, and I’m really curious if I got this right.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Constanze nodded once, awaiting Lotte’s explanation with pen and pad at the ready. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Donar is an Olde Germanic name for Thor! So that means this is Thor’s Oak, and if I’m remembering my arcane history class right…. Wait, shouldn’t this tree be cut down?”  Lotte looked behind her, confused and curious.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze fumbled where Lotte did, but managed to get the right question across anyway, albeit with some messy handwriting. “Donar is another name for Thor. (Right?) And that means this is Thor’s Oak. But wasn’t Thor’s Oak cut down?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Every one of the local witches and Fae leaned in, past and over each other’s shoulders. Then a wave of realization and acknowledgement rolled over the crowd. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ohhhhh…. Haha!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahhh! Das ist, was Sie meinte!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ja, ja…. Ok.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The noise died down as Adelinde brought order to the procession with a soft raise of the hand. Gerbera listened closely to her words and translated them. “Yes! You are correct. This is sometimes known as Thor’s Oak, though we prefer the name Donar, for it was his name the ancestors of some of our fellows used to call him. And yes, once it was cut down by a prophet of the Catholics and his missionaries. The man of the Christian God had cut down the tree as a way of showing us that our gods were false, and that his God was true. His plan worked, and he took many of the original worshipers of the Oak and the Olde faith with him, for he had converted them to his cause with his display. Those who did not wish to join him remained at the site of the fallen Oak, mournful, weeping. He could not be stopped in time, and so all that they could do was mourn. That was, until She Who Fell From The Clouds With Lightning came.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She Who…. Can you be more specific or is that just her name?” Constanze elbowed Amanda lightly for that. “Ow! What? I’m just trying to get the facts straight here.” Amanda tried not to sound insensitive, but that was never one of her strong points. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gerbera laughed calmly. “It is not a problem, stranger. Come. Walk with us. We can speak more on the history of this place as we show you around. It is late, and you no doubt wish to stay the night, correct?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda didn’t say anything to that, and instead turned to Constanze. She deferred to her sister alone in this matter if only because of their final destination. Ludinghal was Constanze’s business and no one else's lest she made so. Thus it would be Constanze who decided when they stopped and when they went. Constanze seemed unsure about that though, and her humming grunts made that clear. “Ohh, can’t we please stay?” Interjected Lotte, sensing that a denial of the offer was on the tip of Constanze’s tongue. “We’ve already flown so much and we’re all really tired!” But Lotte looked so giddy and full of wonder that the witch-gineer simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> deny her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte had her hands clasped together, fingers interwoven just below her chin, with the most genuine of smiles, almost childlike in nature, gracing her face. If they could, her eyes would be sparkling. She had been mystified by the explanation of the history that surrounded this place, and, if only to stifle her fear and loathing, Lotte </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to know more about this place. “Pleeeeease?” Lotte learned how to beg in an endearing manner from Akko. If Akko could get Diana to capitulate to almost any request, then those same methods could make just about anyone reconsider. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze sighed. “What time is it?” She asked of Gerbera using her words this time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Sylvan man regarded the sky, for what little bit he could see of it. “It is ten hours past the zenith of the sun.” Somehow he seemed to know the general state of the cosmos regardless.  While his awkwardly worded delivery was correct, even he knew that his statement sounded obtuse and strange. “Er…. Noon, ten hours past noon.” Twenty two hundred hours then, or ten at night. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze pursed her lips before lazily writing a response on her pad. “Fine.” That face was just too precious to turn down, and Constanze couldn’t ignore the fact that she was indeed very tired. “We’ll stay.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte brought her hands close to her heart and stood on the tips of her toes, spinning around once before leaning in toward Constanze. “Thank you! I promise you won’t regret it!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze rolled her eyes and adjusted the broom over her shoulder. “Mmm….” That was her way of saying “Don’t mention it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda couldn’t help but scratch at the back of her head in confusion. She hadn’t seen Lotte act like this, unless something involving Nightfall or any particularly interest spirit was around. That said, Amanda didn’t spend a lot of time around Lotte to begin with. She was more Barbara’s close friend, and of course, a member of the red team. “Eheh…. Weren’t you guys worried about not wasting time?” Not that Amanda minded a bit of sight seeing while they intended to rest anyway, but the pressure remained to make their stay quick. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Constanze had to agree, but it was better if they spoke in private. The people of Donar’s oak seemed nice, but she preferred privacy when it came to strangers and family matters. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the three went back and forth, Gerbera relayed the agreement to his compatriots. They all hummed and chattered in casual glee once the message came to them. They clearly liked the fact that their realm was seeing more traffic, even if Gerbera himself had spoken on behalf of their would-be leader when saying that the people of Donar’s Oak preferred to remain hidden. It seemed they meant that more so in the context of the mundane world rather than the magical one. “Splendid! We have three abodes set aside for wanderers such as yourself. You may choose whichever one you prefer the most, for no one else resides in them. The evening meal has already passed, but we have left overs and ingredients which we could provide you with.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze held up her pad in response. “We’ll be fine. Wait for us at the bottom of the ramp. We’ll be there in a moment. Need to work some things out.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gerbera nodded in understanding before beginning to waltz down the path toward the village, beckoning for his fellows to follow. “Sie kommen zu uns, nachdem Sie mit dem reden fertig sind.” With his explanation, the group followed. The last of them to depart was Adelinde who offered a bow of the head before she turned and made to join her friends. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda gave Adelinde a simple wave as a sign that they’d be down shortly before she looked to Constanze and Lotte. “So yeah, like I said, shouldn’t we be light on our feet here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I… don’t think that’s the turn of phrase you’re looking for.” Said Lotte as she forced herself to calm down. She was worried she might embarrass herself if she let herself get too excited; she didn’t have Akko’s complete lack of shame to fall back on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know what I mean.” Amanda shrugged it off and threw her broom over her shoulders horizontally, draping her arms up and over it from the back so she looked like a scarecrow. “If we need to rest then let’s rest. Otherwise, we should try and get a few more miles in.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze nodded understandingly, though her written response came as a disagreement. “Easy for you to say road-warrior.” Even Constanze had room for a bit of levity despite the heaviness in the air. The comment earned her a hoaky scoff and humored look from Amanda, though the latter didn’t respond immediately. Constanze had a more serious response just below that: “We’ll be fine. If we’re in Hesse, then we’re close enough. Better to get a full night’s rest and use tomorrow morning to reach Ludinghal. Shouldn’t take longer than four hours. Five if the weather's rough.” A pause followed when Amanda quirked her head at an arrow written at the bottom of the page. Constanze flipped it over, prompting Amanda to mouth acknowledgement at the second page of text began. “If we leave at six, we’ll be there by noon at latest. Then we can use all of the time before the sun goes down to scout the town out. Need a rock solid plan. Can’t make one without intel.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda’s brow became slightly knit, and her smirk became more serious. “Alright! Sounds like a plan.” Then it all fell apart back to Amanda’s more typical half-confident look. “Er, like a plan to make a plan I mean…. Look: I just wanted to make sure we know what we’re doing.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm.” Constanze lowered her pad and gave Amanda a thumbs up. She appreciated Amanda keeping them on track. Constanze only wished that Amanda had been able to keep her on track when Nikolai showed himself, though Constanze didn’t blame Amanda for that. It was quite the contrary. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Can’t worry about that right now.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She thought to herself, shooing the intrusive issue away from her for the moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, so,” Amanda began as she twirled her broom off of her shoulder in elegant and skilled fashion, clearly showing off for the sake of showing off. “If we’re staying here for the night, then I’ll take our stuff to the house they got set up for us. If you guys wanna walk around for a while go ahead, but I’m feelin’ like I should get some food cooked up now that they’ve mentioned it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte’s smile only grew. “Aww! That’s sweet of you!” Then her stomach growled loudly. She brought her hands over it and felt her expression turn more awkward, though it kept that same joyous energy. “Eheh…. If only we knew what they had on the menu.” She could really go for some of Jasminka’s cooking right now.Their Russian friend’s cooking could lift up even the most downtrodden of spirits. At the least, the wondrous history lesson to come would distract Lotte from the trying times yet to come, and Amanda’s cooking, while nowhere near as good as Jasminka’s own, would fill their bellies. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, if you love what your parents make, then I think I can whip up something close.” Amanda absolutely could </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> replicate traditional Finnish dishes, but she could </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe</span>
  </em>
  <span> capture the flavor at least; or at least something close. The sentiment garnered a smile from Lotte followed by a quick hug, and that was good enough for Amanda who reciprocated with a pat on the back. Amanda wasn’t sure why Lotte seemed so emotional, but she could hazard a guess that perhaps the typically reserved, albeit bubbly witch was just sensitive given the state of affairs. Putting that thought behind her, Amanda gathered up their brooms and luggage, heaving them over her shoulder. She was glad beyond belief that the minimized cargo wasn’t as weighty as they would normally be. “Alright you two. I’ll see you soon.” Then she was off down the ramp with a wave, and the remaining two witches saw her escorted casually to where their visitor’s dwelling must have been. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte was the first to follow after. She beckoned for Constanze to follow as she jogged down to meet Gerbera and the others. “Come on Constanze!” Lotte could only hope that a little historical tour would lift Constanze’s spirit just as it would lift Lotte’s own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze forced a small smile for Lotte’s sake. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Couldn’t hurt to try….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> And so began her slow descent down the ramp. Every footfall felt like a drag. Eventually, Constanze reached Lotte, Gerbera, and Adelinde, and a few remaining curious witches and Fae. Only then did she think to look back at the great tree that was Donar’s Oak. She saw the carving of the stag-horned woman again. The spirits alongside her, the worshiping Fae and human figures, but something else. The spiral patterns remained, triskelions abounding, but they were accompanied not by traditional braiding shapes, but by </span>
  <em>
    <span>lightning</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Cracks and streaks of thunder striking down and around the tree. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“She who fell from</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze’s thought was interrupted by Gerbera welcoming the both of them with his rich and crispy voice. “Now, friends, let us begin this lesson with a simple tour of our fair village. Certainly you must be curious as to how we thrive in isolation.” Her suspicions would have to wait. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Only half an hour had passed, and Lotte had managed to almost exhaust the Stewards des heiligen Schösslings of questions. The Stewards of The Sacred Sapling, as they were otherwise known, were all too happy to indulge Lotte though, but they were yet to speak on the matters of their ancient history, only their customs, current affairs, and the structure of their community. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Most of the conversation failed to even register in Constanze’s mind. She had sought blissful noise to cloud her mind, but escape seemed impossible. That damnable song! It was everywhere now, and it was fast too! Before, after the dream, it came slowly, fading in and out on rare occasions, but now she was hearing it at a doubled tempo every few minutes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Two three one two three three one two three</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze heard it from a troll hammering a nail into his door to complete the new lock he just installed. Upon turning to face him, the tune dispersed, but the hammering remained. She couldn’t accurately count his strikes to determine if his rhythm matched that of the elusive song, for he was doing so with ginger quietess. There’s no way Constanze could have heard his hammer from where she walked. And yet she would later here it again</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Two three one two three two</span>
  </em>
  <span>— </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She turned faster this time and saw a group of three walking by on a parallel road. Their footsteps; those were the only things that could have walked in such a pattern, and yet now she didn’t hear them. Again and again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Three three one two</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Verdammt it all, am I losing my mind?!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze’s dream felt like a waking nightmare now, though the tune alone was not enough to frighten her outwardly. She was unsettled and sweating mildly, but she hid it well.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Just endure it…. Just stay calm…. Breathe. Breathe….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Maybe she was just more tired than her body let on and was starting to hear things as a result.</span>
  <span> Regardless of the why, the tour carried on without a peep from her, and Lotte was too enmeshed with her conversation and query to really notice any discomfort on Constanze’s end. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We Stewards live long and well. We’ve gone untroubled for at least seven decades now.” Gerbera’s English was becoming more fluid now that he had been given a chance to practice with it. “For as long as I or anyone who still lives with us can remember, we’ve lived as a singular, loving community. Ever since She Who Fell From The Clouds With Lightning gifted us the Sacred Sapling, and brought joy to where there was sorrow, we have stood hand in hand with one another. Problems arise, sure, and we have our worries, but nothing so frightening that anyone ever feels gripped by anxiety. And if they do fall deep into despair, we’re all very quick to ensure that our friend and family member is cared to.” Indeed, the very atmosphere of Donar’s Oak radiated compassion. This commune was a place of justice and equity not seen since ancient times. But such things were easy to craft in near complete isolation. They were so very lucky to be far and away from the worries of the outside world; and so very ignorant for that self-same reason. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Some of us decide it is best for them to leave though, and I can’t blame them. I actually wandered for a good few years myself before I felt like I should </span>
  <em>
    <span>put down my roots</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Gerbera seemed all too keen to make tree and plant based puns. Constanze tolerated his puns in part because she only heard every other word he said, and otherwise because she was a guest, and this Sylvan was a kindly stranger. Woeful as they may be, enduring puns was a small price to pay for safe lodging. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hahaha!” Lotte was having a blast on the other hand. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved</span>
  </em>
  <span> puns. “But what you’re saying is that people can come back even after they leave?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course!” Gerbera chortled, his neck creaking as bark grinded against vine to produce the noise. “I think I may have painted a bad picture earlier. When I spoke for Adelinde about how we like to be left alone, I didn’t mean that we’re dismissive of outsiders! Some of the current Stewards were originally outsiders even.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There must be some kind of selection process then, right? I can’t imagine you’d just let anyone into your coven.” They </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> speak very reverently of Donar’s Oak itself, Lotte noticed, and so she deduced that harm done unto the tree must have been a great taboo of this village. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know, we actually don’t get that many visitors who </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to stay with us, so it’s actually never been a problem!” Gerbera gestured far and wide across the village from the root-bridge the group stood on. “We’ve had a few </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad apples</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” If Gerbera had a tongue, it would be firmly against his cheek. “Here and there, but the only reason we’ve had to exile anyone is for crimes such as murder, and let me assure that crimes like that are </span>
  <em>
    <span>very rare</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze almost didn’t like how Gerbera joked about the bad apples, for she hadn’t forgotten how she first distrusted Maxwell as a potential murderer and cultist of some malicious origin, but she also didn’t have the energy to be paranoid about that right now. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Amanda seems to trust them at least….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> And they sounded honest enough, so Constanze set it aside for now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte spoke again, just as curious and eager for answers as she was when this tour began. “So how does your coven thrive? Are most of your Stewards second or even third generation?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ohh, Lotte,” They had exchanged names with each other earlier. “Some families like Adelinde’s here are fourteenth generation Stewards!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte felt her breath stiffen with awe. “Wow….” The lessons that could be learned from such a family. Just how much history about this place went unknown to the world at large? Lotte knew she would never know the answer to that question any time soon, for they had only one night to spare, but worse, she feared that </span>
  <em>
    <span>no one</span>
  </em>
  <span> would ever know of this place. After all, Lotte was nothing but Lotte. She wasn’t some historian or ethnographer or social-scientifically minded witch, and while she could tell any number of professors or esteemed sorcerers of this place— </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’d just be forgotten….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The thought lingered during the silence that followed her amazed sigh. Then she pushed it away with a slight grunt of discomfort as she quietly chastised herself for such selfish thinking. “M-Maybe you could tell us a-about how it all began then? Donar’s Oak, I mean. The Stewards.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gerbera nodded, but took a moment to convene with Adelinde through hushed, German whispers. They exchanged a few words before Adelinde eventually smiled and gave gerbera a pat on the back. Then she began to shuffle off, craning her neck to look back at the group as she waved. “Auf Wiedersehen Ihr zwei! Pass gut auf Sie auf, Gerbera!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eh? Where’s she going?” Lotte raised a brow in Adelinde’s direction, ostensibly waving back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gerbera spoke as the crowd dispersed, deciding to go about their business before it became too late to do much of anything. “Adelinde was feeling quite tired, and has entrusted me to tell you of our history; of Donar’s Oak and its origins.” He paused to permit himself a seat on the “railing” of the root-bridge, holding onto it like a care-free child in summer. “We can be a little protective of our history sometimes, but only because we’re worried that people might twist it, on purpose or by accident. It’s our story to tell, and we prefer to keep it that way.” A firm yet gentle nod accompanied his sentiment; his tone was ever-genuine. “Why don’t you have a seat. It might not be the most comfy, but we’ll probably be here for a little while.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte hopped up onto the railing and let her legs dangle back and forth. Her eyes drifted to Constanze and saw her staring out over the opposite side of the bridge some distance away from them. “Constanze, can you hear from over there?” Lotte didn’t even think to question whether or not Constanze was actually listening or not, only that she </span>
  <em>
    <span>must have been</span>
  </em>
  <span> interested, for the topic itself was interesting! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm!?” Constanze grunted in surprise and glanced back with surprising speed, as if scared back to reality. She was quick to suck in a breath and tighten her lips. The low light of the locale helped to further mask her anxieties. “Mmm…. I can hear.” Why was she even playing along at this point? Constanze had no idea, but it seemed like one of those ever-vexing social situations where you so </span>
  <em>
    <span>desperately</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanted to leave, but felt that doing so would make you look like an ass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Great!” Lotte clapped her hands together and turned back to Gerbera with an expression that could only be described as one worn by a child about to be told a previously unheard bed-time story. “Ready when you are!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gerbera chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he began to feel a bit of mounting pressure to perform well for the visitors. It was easier when he wasn’t alone, for whatever reason. “Well, I’ll start from the beginning then…. Over a thousand years ago—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And so Constanze endured it in silence as her eyes drifted back to where the tune carried itself on the wind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I can’t be just hearing this!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She exhaled sharply, shaking her head once. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Something’s fucking with me, and I’m not in the mood.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gerbera continued uninterrupted now. “—When the forests of these lands were plentiful, unsundered, and praised by the olde men and Fae of the Earth, there stood a tree ancient and sacred. It was the first of two oaks of this grove to be offered up to Donar as a shrine to him and his fellow gods.” Gerbera held up his right hand as if to offer something. It was empty at first, prompting a curious look from Lotte only for his vines' flesh to begin to form small humanoid shapes. The tendril extensions of his body rose up from his palm and created small, rudimentary representations; at first it showed a circle of little beings dancing around a tree. Sometimes they brought things forward and laid it at the foot of said tree before rejoining the circle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They danced and gave praise to him, living as many others did in the olden days. Notable strife came to this place however, when missionaries and soldiers from the south rode in, bearing cross and sword as their weapons.” The scene being played out in Gerbera’s palm changed. The dancing figures scattered and ran as viney figures astride plant-horses stomped in from Gerbera’s wrist. “At first they came bearing only the news of their lord. They spoke of a god all encompassing, all knowing, and all loving. He was the singular and absolute power in our universe, they claimed.” The lead most rider waved their arms about with a miniature cross made of tiny splinters in their hands. The cowering persons slowly came forward, though some remained apprehensive. “They spoke with fire in their hearts, and held an unwavering zeal. That alone swayed some of the original inhabitants.” A few of the former dancers joined the horsemen and gave praise before the cross. “But that was not enough in the eyes of the southerners.” The cross bearing horseman approached the reserved remainder of the vine-people and appeared to beseech them. “On and on they preached. It is said they spoke to the people for a whole day straight, and by weight of sheer attrition and perseverance, more of the original worshippers were convinced to abandon Donar and the Olde ways. Pagans. That’s what they called the olde peoples, Fae and men alike.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But some of them still refused?” Said Lotte, who was otherwise silently listening and watching with wonder in her eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That they did.” About a third of the original dancers remained, and now only the tree and the cross-bearing rider stood in the scene. “Despite having converted more than half of the village, the southern missionaries would settle for nothing less than absolute submission.” The cross-bearing rider leaned down from their tiny horse to wave the cross in the face of the remaining worshippers. They stood their ground and shook their heads as one. “So when they realized that words alone would not sway the holdouts of the olde faith, they turned to action.” The twig cross was suddenly twisted and transformed to resemble an axe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gerbera spoke in a deeper tone to symbolize that he spoke on behalf of the axeman. “And still you deny the truth of God’s light? In favor of this tree and the false idols you have dedicated it to? Very well, then I shall show you the nonexistence of your idols. Then you shall have no choice but to see the truth!” The rider dismounted and waltzed over to the tree, readying the axe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then Gerbera spoke in a differently toned series of voices, ranging from deeper to lighter. “No! Stop!” “You cannot cut the oak down! You shall be struck down by Donar for such transgressions!” “You would defile our home and hearth!? How could you do this!?” Then he cleared his own oaken throat to speak in his more naturally crisp voice. “But their cries went unheard, and the soldiers accompanying the missionaries promised bloodshed should the remaining worshippers strike out against the axeman.” The axeman figure wound up a blow and chopped once, twice, thrice, felling the viney representation of the oak which melded back into Gerbera’s form after falling away. “Alas, the tree was cut down, and no thunder from on high paid back the axeman for his slight. Tears were shed, many fell to their knees, and by the end of the day, only ten remained, determined to cling to the olde ways. The others joined the southerners on their northward march out of desperation, and otherwise out of disillusionment with Donar.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The scene shifted, creating ruined homes and abodes as the horseman and the converted peoples walked away, fading back into Gerbera’s viney flesh. “The ten survivors were left with nothing. Their homes were defiled, and their shrine had been uprooted. All they could do was try to rebuild, but despair gripped their hearts.” The figures wept and curled up on the ground amidst the ruins. “They prayed to Donar and his fellows gods in hopes that their plight might be heard. Nothing came for a month, and before it was over, two more left, swearing an oath of vengeance and steel as they took up axes and shields to hunt down the ones who destroyed the oak.” Two of the ten figures took up twig weapons and walked off in accordance with Gerbera’s words. “Two more then died of sorrow.” Another two fell to the ground and were subsequently “buried” in Gerbera’s palm. “Six remained, and upon the thirtieth day that passed since the felling of the oak, an agent of the gods came.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To accentuate the arrival of this supposed “agent of the gods,” Gerbera pulled out a pinch of arcane dusty from his wool pants pocket. He dashed it forcefully against the palm he used as the “stage” for this “play,” creating a puff of smoke that twinkled with tiny sparks like lightning. “It is said that She came from the sky in a flash of lightning, hence the name we gave unto her: She Who Fell From The Clouds With Lightning.” From between the smoke, the humanoid figures gathered around a tall, antlered being with a flowing, flowery dress, adorned by a singular flower to represent a crown. She had long flowing hair represented by blades of grass, and she swirled with arcane energies summoned up from Gerbera’s own being. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze jerked her head around at the crackling noise that the arcane dust made, sighing when she saw it was nothing but part of the display. She had been struggling the entire time to keep composure, but her endurance was wearing thin. She wanted to stim, wanted to hold Sucy close, wanted something! Anything! But her mind never thought to leave that situation. Not until she laid eyes on the antlered figurine. Realization came upon her face in the form of distrust and discomfort. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She really just came from the sky?” Queried Lotte, blissfully unaware of Constanze’s concern, and wholly unaware of the resemblance the figure bore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gerbera nodded. “That is how the tale goes. She came from above and crashed into the earth like lightning. Yet she was unharmed.” The scene played out as though the worshipers and the antlered woman were conversing. “She was very curious about these lands and about the people of the ruined village. We are unsure of which of the nine realms she hailed from, but she confirmed that she was sent by Donar and the gods to aid the six survivors.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No fucking way….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze almost couldn’t believe this. Was it just a coincidence that this “messenger” bore such a striking resemblance? Or was this truly a tale that involved the mysterious Woodward? And why did that possibility just make the uneasy feeling in her gut worse?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Meanwhile, as Constanze struggled with the realization, Gerbera continued. The figure that represented Woodward took from her own chest, a small wooden sphere. “Unto the six, she bestowed a gift: A seed unlike any other which would sprout into a sapling most sacred.” The survivors rejoiced and clapped, accepting the seed with grace. “She gave it to our ancestors, those six survivors, with only one request.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What did she ask?” Lotte could barely handle the suspense. She was wholly enjoying herself.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She asked the survivors this:” Gerbera cleared his throat to speak in a gentle voice, one that tried as much as possible to mimic a spring breeze over a meadow. “Tell me strangers, where might I find the most sorcerous of your kind?” The effigy of Woodward gently waved its arms as Gerbera mimicked her voice, albeit poorly. “The gods have tasked me with assembling a council of the wise. I ask only that you aid me in finding those worthy of the gods’ favor. Do this and you shall have an oak that pierces the clouds.” The worshippers all nodded in agreement to this. “And that’s how it goes.” Said Gerbera in his normal tone. “The survivors agreed. They helped the messenger by pointing her far to the south where word had spread of a woman who could command all four elements with ease, and in exchange, She planted the sapling. The descendants of the original six have tended to the tree ever since, and after many years, folks gathered from far and wide to worship Donar at his risen oak.” With finality, Gerbera closed his open palm, dissolving the figures of vine back into his form as his smile grew wider. “I hope you enjoyed that. I’m… not much of a storyteller, but I think, much like humans, even we Fae have a… </span>
  <em>
    <span>natural</span>
  </em>
  <span> ability at telling tales.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I….” Constanze stammered. “I need to go lie down.” She couldn’t take it anymore. And by it, she meant </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She needed to be somewhere else. Somewhere safer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Only now did Lotte take notice of Constanze’s mounting anxiety. “C-Constanze?” She asked as the latter witch began to walk off toward in a seemingly random direction. “W-Where are you going!?” Lotte raised her voice to call after her friend, and stood to begin following her. Gerbera meanwhile looked concernedly toward Constanze, but said nothing, opting to hold a finger by his barky lips, gently biting it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“To bed.” Constanze called back, not even bothering to turn around as her walk turned to a brisk, awkward jog, and then a beleaguered run. The pain in her chest wasn’t very appreciated at that moment, but it wasn’t as bad as the rising bile in her throat. She’d no doubt hurl up something awful on her way to the house; her whole edifice was falling to pieces. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte hummed nervously to herself, unsure of whether to follow after her friend or let it be. With a gentle touch from Gerbera, Lotte turned her head. “I don’t know her very well, but… she seems like she needs to be alone.” Gerbera wasn’t exactly correct, but the sentiment that Lotte shouldn’t follow was a wise one indeed. Nevertheless, it upset Lotte to feel so useless in a situation like that. Her balloon of excitement, built up from the tale of Donar’s Oak, deflated unceremoniously. She fell back onto the railing, holding her chin with both hands, and sighed deeply. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why can’t anything good happen without something bad coming right after it...?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A few minutes later….</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sizzling of the magicked, oaken oven delighted Amanda’s ears. The smell of cooking fish graced her nostrils, and the quaint, floral, and generally peaceful interior of their lodgings blessed her eyes. The furniture of the house wasn’t crafted so much as it was formed. Donar’s oak lived in harmony with the people here; that statement was not said in mistaken hyperbole. It was meant to the fullest extent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two couches fit for two persons sat opposite each other just ten feet from the kitchen, molded out of roots that similarly made up the bulk of the rest of the furnishings. A fireplace sat back and in between the touches, fed by a natural drip of detritus wood carried through the “veins” of the tree by magical and anomalous means kept the house warm. The oven and kitchen counters themselves were roots as well, with the burning spots being designated by holes in the oak where one could safely store coal or other forms of fuel without burning the rest of the tree. Up the stairs one would find root-beds that dangled gentle leafs for hammocks, each of which bearing a hand made blanket with stitched illustrations of Donar’s Oak or olde Germanic symbols and patterns. The pillows too were handmade, but not in the traditional sense. They were leaf-wraps that contained flowery plant matter, allowing for gentle rest and firm support, as well as a constant, sweet, and soft aroma. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The home lacked nothing in terms of comforts of necessities, despite being a visitor’s abode. Truly, the people of Donar’s Oak treated their guests as one of their own. Were it not for the burden of knowledge, Amanda would have thought this a verdant paradise, or perhaps a fairytale locale. A mistaken movement of her left hand saw it touching a hot part of the cast iron pan. “Hssss!” She hissed and pulled it away, shaking away the heat as if that might do anything. “Oof…. Gotta be more careful….” She muttered to herself before examining the hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda’s eyes glossed over the tiny, insignificant burn at first, but then something caught her eye. She saw her hand twitch a little bit, and then her eyes went to the faint scarring of where Asgall had reattached her fingers. She tried to hold her hand steady only to realize that her hand trembled ever so slightly every now and then. “God damnit….” Indeed, her twitching was what a phantom side-effect of her healed injury. It wasn’t as bad as it was when the wound was first made, or the day after, but the reminder remained; the reminder that she failed. That stung worse than any burn could. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda shook her head. She had to finish prepping the trio’s dinner. After a few minutes, she had done just that, and laid each dish out on the three-chaired table for each of the witches to have. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Colacoaleria.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The lazily incanted spell made sure the food stayed warm for a time at least. With the dishes prepared, Amanda began to tap her feet or pace around, waiting for her friends to return. When they didn’t do so immediately, Amanda fell into a slow spiral of thoughts. She couldn’t hold off the nagging voices that had been triggered by the sight of the wound on her hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Once a failure, always a failure.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You deserve a worse reminder than just a little scar.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Go ahead and try again. Nothing’s going to change.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No matter how hard you struggle, you’ll always be</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda sucked in a breath and fell into one of the chairs, holding her forehead with her twitching hand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll always be able to bounce back…. I’ve come back from worse. I can come back from this too…. Just… take a deep breath. Remind yourself why they’re wrong, and</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And keep wallowing in your own degeneracy!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Keep tripping over the same bumps in the road despite everything you try to fix!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Keep ruining every good thing you might have with your idiotic blundering!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Keep failing to see just how much of a disgrace you really</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I. Am NOT. A disgrace….”</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Amanda’s breathing was measured, but strained. She had to battle like this every time the voices came, but even with the emotional tools Mrs. Jansson and Constanze provided her, it only tipped the balance somewhat in Amanda’s favor. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m Amanda-Freakin-O’Neill, and I’m not a failure…. I’m not!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She couldn’t even tell if she was trying to lie to herself anymore, or if she actually believed her self-affirmations. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tell that to Hannah!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tell that to Barbara!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tell it to Maxwell!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And Asgall!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And worst of all, tell it to Cons</span>
  </em>
  <span>—!</span>
  <em>
    <span>” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda dug into her fish with fierce speed. She had grabbed her cutlery as a scowl built on her face, and scarfed down a chunk of flesh with frustration. Her feet kept on tapping irregularly. Where affirmations couldn’t help, denial and dismissal did the trick. Well, kind of. The pain remained, as did the anger, but at least she stopped hearing the voices for a short while. Her rage would not last long though, for Amanda was tired of this song and dance. After years of doing it, she had to keep trying at the new method, if only to break the pattern and make it seem like she was trying. Her internal voice began again, shaky at first, matching the tremble in her left hand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m not like what they say I’m like. I’m not worthless, I’m not a failure…. And….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her grip on the utensils tightened. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“And I still fucked up big time….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Then they relaxed; Amanda could keep it contained no longer. “Ugh! Why can’t I just have one peaceful fucking moment? Why? Why does it always have to come down to some out-of-the-blue bullshit ruining my mood? Why!? Why can’t I just trust myself or anything I do? Why does every single mistake have to…. Aahhh!” Amanda let the utensils clatter to table as she kicked back in her chair and let her head lol back, casting her vision to the ceiling. “I can’t ignore how bad my mistakes were, but I can’t not obsess over them either! Where’s the happy-fucking-medium?! You know? Where I learn from my mistakes and not beat myself to death with them!?” Her anger turned to genuine sorrow. She felt like she might cry soon. Maybe she needed that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Silence was her answer. Silence and… flashing? It took Amanda a moment of sulking to realize it, but something was flashing at her from across the room. She cocked her head up suddenly, unsure of what was trying to get her attention, only to see Malitrix, dangingly from Lotte’s broom, flashing her gemstone eyes at Amanda like a fireworks show. “Uhhh….” Amanda looked around as the despair drained from her face, replaced by temporary confusion. She sought to find the source of the flashing, suspecting that someone was pointing a light at Malitrix. When she found nothing of the sort to be possible, her eyes fell back onto Malitrix. “Umm…. Ooookkaaaay….” The flashing continued, even faster now. Amanda couldn’t write it off as just a weird occurrence anymore. “Are you… trying… to…?” Amanda had learned from Lotte that Malitrix “spoke” to them, and that one flash meant yes, and two meant no, but what in the hells did a cacophony of flashes mean?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Malitrix blinked once, paused, and then blinked again. She was signalling yes. “Ok, so you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> trying to talk to me, right?” Malitrix blinked once. Amanda paused to sniffle and wipe her lightly damp eyes. “Uh huh…. How exactly are you going to… y’know, say more than yes or no? You’re kinda a skull, dude. I can’t really understand you.” Malitrix made no sights or sounds for a moment, though she and Amanda were locked in a pseudo-staring contest. Of course, Amanda lost out when she blinked, only to nearly fall out of her chair when Malitrix appeared just a few inches from her on the edge of the dining table. “Oi! What the—!? BWUAAHAAH!” Amanda flailed and adjusted her body in a desperate attempt to keep herself steady, and with luck, she managed not to fall backward. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Heavy breathing followed in the wake of Amanda’s stability. Then she started chuckling. “Alright…. New rule….” She raised her left hand’s pointer finger to accentuate her words. “Never…. Never fuckin’ do that again without a warning…. Okay?” Malitrix blinked once after a pause. “Cool, cool…. The warning’s gonna be four blinks, ok?” Malitrix blinked again. “Great…. Glad we could settle that.” Amanda wiped her forehead and laughed a little. She was almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>glad</span>
  </em>
  <span> to have nearly suffered a heart attack. It scared the depression out of her; at least for a moment. “So you wanted to talk about something, but getting closer doesn’t really help us fix the whole skull problem.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Malirtix seemed to ponder those words. How could Amanda, or anyone tell for that matter? It was impossible to say, but the skull was pontificating on the dilemma at hand, both Amanda’s sorrow and Malitrix’s own skull-problems. After a short wait, Malitrix blinked twice, then once, then thrice. “Yeah, sorry but that doesn’t mean anything to me.” Malitrix blinked brightly, her eyes becoming alight with arcane might for a moment before dying down. Was that equivalent of a skull saying “fuck” very loudly? It was some kind of swear or curse, that’s for sure. “Yeesh, and I thought I had a bad mouth.” Amanda couldn’t help but joke. Her chuckle at her own joke was interrupted by a sobering realization though. “Wait how the fuck did I know you just swore?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Amanda could pursue that line of questioning any further though, a creaking from the door made Constanze’s presence known. Amanda didn’t know it to be Constanze immediately, but when she called out, “Someone there?” Constanze revealed herself by sluggishly opening the door. Her face was wrought with strife and grief. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Constanze made a pained sort of grunt. Not physically pained, but emotionally. Her lips quivered. Every stimulus felt turned up to eleven. The tune. That damnable song! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Two three one two three three one two three two three one two three! </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The flapping of moth wings! Even they could produce the noise!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Two three one two three three!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze swatted at the candle lamp above the door as she entered, but there was no escape from it. There was no escape from anything that plagued them! This place had been visited upon by Woodward, and her family yet lay dead, and Nikolai was still out there, and Luna Nova was still in danger and—! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“C-Conz? How long were you standing out there?” Amanda shouldn’t feel embarrassed about the possibility of her sister hearing her rants and ravings; she was just trying to deal with her emotional problems, and Constanze was well aware of them. Yet here Amanda was, nervous that she may have been heard talking to herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze blinked twice. A tear managed to break free in the midst of the reflex, streaming down her cheek slowly. “A-A few minutes.” Her choppy, tearful voice signaled the beginning of a breakdown, one that could no longer be postponed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda saw the red flags from a mile away. Her own troubles were set to the side for the moment as she sprung up from her chair; even Malitrix was facing Constanze now. Amanda moved toward Constanze slowly and spoke seriously, but softly. “Did something happen? Or is it the usual stuff?” Constanze choked on her own words. No matter how hard she tried, now wasn’t the time for speaking, and she couldn’t change that.. Constanze shook her in the negative. “Wait—So, nothing happened? Right?” An affirmative nod had Amanda sighing with relief. The situation was still bad, obviously, but at least nothing new was troubling them; well, nothing new but the unknown fact about Woodward, but Constanze would get to explaining that in time. “Ok, ok….” Amanda had dealt with Constanze during one of her breakdowns in the past. She remembered very vividly how to best handle it. She began by going down a list of wants and needs: “Do you need your tools right now?” A negative shake. “Do you want some food?” A negative shake. “Water?” Nope. “But you don’t want to be alone, right?” A pause, followed by an affirmative shake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda nodded in turn. “I’ll stay with you. Promise.” Another pause came before Constanze threw herself into Amanda, wrapping herself about her sister as tightly as she could. That’s when the tears began in earnest. Amanda held her close in that spot for a few moments before struggling to reach for the door and close it shut. “L-Lets…. Lay down maybe?” Constanze nodded into Amanda’s chest, and the two slowly began to ascend up the stairs, side by side with Constanze burying her face into Amanda’s side. Surprisingly, Amanda saw Malitrix on the nightstand by one of the leafy-hammocks, but now wasn’t the time to question why Malitrix was following them; not that Amanda was likely to get a good answer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two gently sat themselves down in the hammock closest to the window, careful at first for fear that the leaf wasn’t actually as sturdy as the shape it took might imply, but more casually once they felt firmly supported. Slowly then, Amanda allowed Constanze to lay down before Amanda herself joined her. Amanda supported her sister’s head on her left shoulder and kept her close with her left arm wrapped around Constanze’s body. She was flat on her back while Constanze was curled in on her side, trying to make herself as small as possible. For a while, the only audible sounds in the rooms were the ones made from Constanze’s muffled sobbing and erratic, caught breaths. Amanda held her as tight as she could, looking over at her every now and then before letting her own face turn back toward the ceiling. Amanda stared at it senselessly, knowing the best thing to do right now was just to keep quiet and let Constanze feel her way out of the worst of this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sadly for Amanda though, her own problems wouldn’t allow such silence to last long. The voices came back with a vengeance, quietly at first, but loud as ever soon enough. They taunted and teased her, insulted and spat, hissed and howled, all lamenting her failures and flaws over and over again! Ceaselessly did they repeat and rant and rave! Amanda felt her head swell with an aching pain. She tried to close her eyes and hope that this terrible moment for her and Constanze would pass soon, but hope alone would not prevent the inevitable. Amanda tore her vision away from the ceiling one more time to look at Constanze, catching a glimpse of her red, teary, and sorrow ridden expression. In the corner of Amanda’s eye though, the twitching of her own left hand haunted her. The voices continued, on and on, until Amanda too had to let her guard down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It came as a shock to Constanze at first, the whimper which most certainly didn’t belong to her. She had to hear it twice more before she actually lifted her head up to find Amanda covering her eyes with her right hand. Her lips were turned down, and they opened and closed erratically as she struggled not to make any noise. The tell tale high pitched inhale and sniffle told Constanze everything she needed to. She may have been having her own breakdown, but Constanze was determined to show Amanda the same attention her sister had shown her. “Mmmm…?” Amanda shook her head. “Mmm?” Again, another no. “Stay here?” Finally, Amanda nodded and let her covering hand fall away, revealing her puffy, bloodshot eyes that swelled with tears, and her flushed cheeks. “Mmmm….” Constanze sniffled and put her face up against Amanda’s side once more, further wetting it with the tears that were shed amidst that short interlude.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two did as they promised to one another. They stayed by each other’s side and never let go. At some point, Amanda rolled onto her side to face Constanze and held her sister with both arms. Constanze reciprocated the hug and the two cried harder for a short while after, letting every sensible and nonsensical emotion and whim that had been building ever since Porthcurno, ever since all of this began, everything; all of it just flowed out of them. Constanze had expected to do this at Ludinghal itself, but clearly the time was now and not then. Meanwhile, Amanda hadn’t even suspected that such a breakdown would occur in her. It snuck up on her as silently as death, and the actual trigger to it was something unknown. Maybe it was because she just couldn’t take the voices anymore. Maybe it was because Constanze had broken down, and thus it made it easier for Amanda to feel a similarly intense sorrow empathically. Or maybe it was because of the ever lingering fears that kept both her and Constanze fighting: The idea that they might be going home to one or more less loved ones when this was all over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The why didn’t matter. It didn’t matter now, it wouldn’t matter later, and it didn’t matter before either. All that mattered was the release and the promise; the promise that at each of their weakest points, when the rest of the world was in turmoil, both Constanze and Amanda would have someone to hold them. Their tear ducts bled and wept. Their forms caressed one another in tight, but never uncomfortable fashion. Only when there was nothing left to cry, when their eyes had run dry, and when the room fell silent for another ten minutes to follow, did either consider speaking. Even then, neither witch actually said anything until another ten minutes had passed when the words could no longer linger on the edges of their tongues. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.” It was a simple start, but Amanda had to begin somewhere. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm.” Constanze nodded. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Likewise.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Is what she meant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A brief pause followed as Amanda opened her eyes, taking long, measured breaths in order to come down from her emotional and agitated state. “Why didn’t you come in sooner?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm….” Constanze wasn’t sure how to explain it through grunts alone. Her cracking voice whispered out the answer instead. “Heard you struggling. Didn’t want to upset you. Didn’t want to be a burden.” Indeed, the very thing she feared was dragging Amanda into her own breakdown. “Sorry.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda leaned her forehead up against Constanze’s and closed her eyes. “Don’t apologize. It ain’t your fault I’m all fucked up.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t… need…. Mmmmm…. Taking up space.” Constanze struggled to speak every word. Her social exhaustion had struck her like it used to back during her first year at Luna Nova, when spoken words were almost impossible to utter without causing distress. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda was used to that though. “You’re not taking up space. You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> takin’ up space.” She accentuated the point with a squeezing hug. “When I wanted you to be my sis, I meant that through and through. Real family’s supposed to always be there for one another, right?” Constanze didn’t move or speak in response. Her eyes merely opened and her lips trembled once more as an urge to cry ran up her spine. Amanda opened her own eyes and pulled her head away to look her sister in the eyes. Amanda smiled weakly, painfully even, and then, so did Constanze. They leaned their heads over each other’s shoulders for one final embrace that brought out tears they didn’t know they had; bittersweet, and defiant, but comforting to feel roll down their faces. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, after a few more minutes together, Amanda nudged her head back, gesture with a tilt to sit up, and Constanze nodded in agreement. Both slowly rose up with Constanze turning to sit on the right side of the leafy hammock while Amanda sat on the left. Their backs were up against one another, keeping each other from falling back down into the surprisingly  comfortable bedding. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Given Amanda was a foot and then some taller than Constanze, Amanda let her head loll back, casting her eyes to the ceiling which only now did she realize had perforated holes in it. They weren’t there from damages, but by design: It let just enough moon and sunlight into the room that one would never be uncomfortably in the dark, nor would they ever find themselves in a room that was too bright to snooze in. It was a soothing sight, like looking up at a children’s room ceiling with glow-in-the-dark stars and planets marking the otherwise bland, plain roof. Each tiny hole was like a star in of itself, glimmering gently throughout the day. “I’m gonna have to remember how to get to this place.” Said Amanda, offhandedly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm?” Constanze was glad to begin this talk in earnest with an unrelated topic; something to ease her back into a conversational mode. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s just…. It’s not like anywhere else I’ve been.” Amanda had a simple smile stuck on her face for the moment. Her eyes gilded back and forth over the array of shining little dots on the ceiling, unknowingly searching for patterns that didn’t exist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Surprised….” Constanze let her eyes settle on Malitrix, who had been, perhaps uncomfortably, staring at them the entire time. She sighed and decided to pay no mind to the skull for now, though she was curious what exactly it had to say. “Really? Nowhere?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>nowhere</span>
  </em>
  <span>….” Amanda thought long and hard on her many journeys. She’d been across France, Egypt, Ukraine, and even spent some time in western India; everywhere in between was fair game for her escapades too. “There’s a lot of places I just passed on through. I bet if I sat down, got to know some people better…. Maybe it’d start looking as cozy as this.” The foreign and alien had a way of making itself look negative and unpalatable; society’s teachings had a great deal in shaping Amanda, and just about everyone, to believe such things. “I ain’t about settlin’ down though. I just think I miss a lot of the beauty by just wandering around without thinkin’ to stop and appreciate more places.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm?” Asked Constanze. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Why’s that?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well I only got one life to live, don’t I?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But it’s more than that.” Amanda cracked her neck to the left and right. Her smile slowly faded, though the mirth remained internal. “Gives me all the more reason to keep fighting. It’s hard sometimes doing what I do when you don’t stick around. Sure, I ain’t in it for the money, but it’s hard to do any kind of work when you don’t see anything good come out of it.” Amanda couldn’t help but think of the Balefire and the purpose it served. Maxwell may have sounded like a romantic huckster, but he spoke and acted so genuinely as to defy all doubt that he meant every word. “It’s another reason to keep fighting. It’s the good that we can do that lets us know to keep going.” her head was turned to glanced around her shoulder, catching a glimpse of Constanze’s hair. “You wouldn’t wanna build something and just have it collect dust would yah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze shook her head. “Mm-mm.” Her eyes slowly drifted from Malitrix to her backpack. Amanda had brought it up when first settling in, and thankfully so. Telekinetic magic brought her adjustable wrench over from within the bag, and her stimming began; softly at first. “Always to solve a problem. The formula.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right, right.” Amanda nodded, remembering back to their talk at the gas station. “Speaking of,” They had to get onto the heavier stuff eventually, and the throat clear on Amanda’s part was enough to signal to Constanze that it might be that time. “Did you ever get that motive sorted?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze froze up briefly, her thoughts coming to a halt. Then she remembered it well; her own words echoing in her mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Without a problem, the motive, and the right tools, I’ll never feel satisfied doing anything…. They’re dead, Amanda. Nothing’s going to change that in any good way. There’s no way I could do it for them or anyone else…. This started with Ludinghal, and it’s going to be finished because of Ludinghal.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>But vengeance alone felt wrong to pursue. At least, it felt wrong up until she saw what Nikolai was. The look in his eyes. The grin on his face. The casualness with which he swaggered and struck out at Constanze. The way he </span>
  <em>
    <span>taunted her</span>
  </em>
  <span> with the death of her own father amidst their clash; calling him weak. Constanze had no doubt now that Nikolai likely tried to “have fun” with her father too, and likely came out of it disappointed. He reeked of sadism, and that alone made him a monster worth putting down. “Motive…. The….” None of that made putting her desire into cohesive sentences easier. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Take as much time as you need.” Amanda reassured. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Constanze took a deep breath and nodded. “Thanks.” She needed that. She began again then, working through her formula in a logical fashion. “Problem: Nikolai and the Bathorys are destroying Luna Nova. They’ve killed my parents. Destroyed my home. Probably causing chaos everywhere else too.” She hadn’t forgotten Lotte’s report on the agent-vampires infiltrating institutions of power. That would no doubt be the first problem to tackle once Luna Nova was safe. “Motive….” On she went. “Motive: I’m getting revenge for myself.” A pause followed, and Amanda raised her brows in surprise. She didn’t imagine it was that simple and she was right to think so. “Also: I’m doing what I promised I would.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That seemed to confuse Amanda. “Ehh?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Vaal.” Constanze nodded. “Promised I’d rebuild the order. First step: Finish this fight.” The rivalry between the Balefire and the Bathorys could only end in one of two away: One would flourish, and the other would fade. Constanze would ensure that the Balefire won out. “Second: Have to make sure we make it through this. All of us.” That was her second promise, after all. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t let the chains break.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you worried about losing yourself though? You know, that thing you mentioned about the anger issues and obsessing over that creep.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am.” Constanze, even now, felt that call to violence. It was wanton, chaotic, and carnal. Ripping and tearing; the images still flashed in her mind on occasion. “That’s its own problem.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So how’re you gonna fix it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze raised her left hand to her mouth and leaned on it; thumb and pointer finger across her lips. She wasn’t exactly certain anymore, but she had a better idea than she did a few days prior. “I’m not going to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, what?” This didn’t sound like the Constanze that Amanda knew. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Constanze grunted and nodded, glancing back to Amanda to signal to her sister with a thoughtful expression that she needed to explain further. A minute or so passed as the words came to her. “Can’t deny it. Just makes it stronger.” Constanze theorized that her bottling up of anger had been what led to her suicidal charge toward Nikolai on the mountaintop. All of that hate was released in a singular moment, and it made Constanze snap. “Need to hone it. Control it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well that sounds like a fix to me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not…. Mmm…. Different.” Constanze shook her head. “Didn’t want to change at all before. Made a promise to Sucy…. I… took it too literally.” A sigh escaped her mumbling lips. “Natural to get angry. Especially about this. I don’t like how… often, I think about it, but… mmm.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda listened intently, awaiting an answer. When it didn’t come, she nudged Constanze with her shoulder and spoke. “But what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A note passed back to her was Constanze’s answer. Amanda read it aloud in a hushed tone. “It’s scary, Amanda. It’s scary how graphic my thoughts get when I think about him. I don’t want to describe any of it. It makes me sick. But I can’t ignore it. I’m going to use it. Then I’m going to let it go. Can’t let it consume me…. Can’t let it go undealt with.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.” Constanze nodded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s kind of ironic, you know.” Constanze raised a brow and glanced back at that. She saw Amanda staring at the paper, contemplating the wisdom therein. “I never feel like anything’s changing for me, and it sucks, but you didn’t wanna change at all, and now you’re saying you’ve gotta change, even if it’s just for a little bit.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm….” Constanze hummed, now staring at the ceiling as Amanda did prior. “Not sure if it’s irony. But I get you.” Her stimming clicks and clacks became slightly more frequent as her volume rose from a whisper to a normal level. “I don’t want to give into it fully. Just enough to not do something stupid.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So how can I help you work that out? I don’t think we’ll be seeing him again until we’re back at Luna Nova, and it’s not like anything else set you off like he did.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re right.” Constanze’s eyes traced along the dots in a pattern of her own making. Left to right, from farthest to nearest in orderly fashion. “But maybe there’s a way.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lay it on me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Croix.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nevermind, let’s talk about something</span>
  <span>—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘Mm! I’m serious!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda sighed, a grin forming on her face. “Ok, ok…. How does this involve Croix?” She didn’t like Croix very much, but she had to assume this idea of Constanze’s would be humorous.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not directly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh thank fucking god, I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> prepared to try and break her out of time-jail.” And Lotte would have likely had a heart attack if either of them even joked about the idea. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Her missile.” Before Amanda could humorously interject more comedically time interruptions, Constanze raised a silencing finger that Amanda saw from the corner of her eyes. “The tech she used to make it. Emotion based magic. Powered it. Created it.” Constanze felt her eyes slowly drift down from the moon-lit ceiling toward the black box marked by the Red Dragon of Wales. “She was teaching me the principles. Not sure exactly how to do it, but I can try.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda’s eyes too went to the twin blade’s case. “Wait, you’re going to try and put your emotions in those things?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Try.” That was the operative term. “Worth a shot.” Constanze rose from the bed and walked over to the box. She knelt down and opened it, examining each piece of the broken blades carefully. The song of her dreams began again now, quietly, far off, and in the distance. She was bothered to hear it, but it fed into a budding suspicion. “Mmmm. Mmm?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda was silent for a few moments before she realized what Constanze had asked her. “O-Oh? Oh right, yeah. Yeah I remember.” Amanda stood up from the bed and put her hands in her pockets. She turned around and faced Constanze as her left foot began to unconsciously tap. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Work keeps me sane.” Constanze reiterated. “Always has. Always will.” She thought of all the times in which her crushing social anxieties had nearly left her broken in the middle of class, only to escape it at the sound of a bell and immediately retreat to her workshop. There, she would engineer and craft tirelessly, working through her emotions like one would with a gunked up engine. It wasn’t a healthy coping strategy all of the time, but it was reliable when it came to the small things. And with blades that possessed a history like Dyrnwyn and Carnwennan, with the Balefire now known to her, her familys’ ghosts looming, and Nikolai waiting in the shadows, Constanze knew that she had to at least consider the principle of emotional magictronics when reforging the twin blades. “Not like anyone told me how to be a witch-smith. Need to improvise.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda’s foot tapping turned to pacing interspersed with tapping. “I know I probably shouldn’t be gettin’ this worked up about it, but I’m worried that somehow this is gonna backfire spectacularly.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze opened her mouth to respond, but the tune drowned her own internal voice out. She glanced back and heard it coming from Amanda’s steps. “Mmm.” She grunted, pointing down with one finger. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please stop pacing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, uh, sure.” Amanda didn’t know why Consrtanze minded it so much, but she didn’t see a reason to argue. Instead, she sat herself on the leafy hammock they laid in earlier and twiddled her thumbs to channel that active energy of hers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” Just as Amanda stopped, so did the tune; at least the tune coming from Amanda’s erratic stepping, the latent tune from the twin blades remained. Now Constanze could think clearly. “We’re going to Ludinghal. Going to check my old house and my aunt and uncle’s. Might have something. Could explain things about witch-smithing.” It was a longshot hope, but it wasn’t wholly absurd to consider. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just be careful if you try that whole emotional magic stuff without anything to guide you. I don’t know jack or shit about smithing swords,” But by the Nine did Amanda wish she knew. “But I remember that freaky missile, and I didn’t really like what I saw.” Who knew what so much hate could do to a simple blade? If only Amanda herself knew how Croix transformed that suit of armor back at Appleton. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It shouldn’t be the same.” Constanze could be confident in that fact at least. She rose to her feet after closing the lid on the case and turned to Amanda. “Different form of enchantment. Emotions were processed. Distilled.” That’s how Croix described it at least. “Context was removed. Rendered incomplex. Won’t be like that with me.” Constanze </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> remove the context from her emotions; the pain. Even if she wanted to, it was an impossibility.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, fair enough.” Amanda sighed, throwing her arms up in defeat. This wasn’t her field to argue on, even if a gut feeling she had told her it was a bad idea. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I guess if there’s anyone who could tame something as weird as emotions into working for good, then it would be Conz, wouldn’t it?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She mused to herself as her arms fell back to her sides. A soft smile returned to her face. “Hey, as long as they work and don’t try to eat me, I’ll be happy.” How could Amanda argue otherwise? If Maxwell was telling the truth then she would get— </span>
  <em>
    <span>“A freakin’ flaming sword!? Oh, fuck yeah!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Which was roughly her thought process when she first found the twins blades.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze felt a smile flash on her face for a faint moment before she replied. “Speaking of you,” The beginning of the statement prompted Amanda to lean forward in her seat, clasping her hands together between her legs, entwining her fingers. “Tools: I don’t think I have them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Amanda’s smile fell away into a frown almost instantly. “You mean… to deal with Nikolai?” The nod from Constanze only deepened it. “Look, I know he kinda almost killed us, but you said it yourself: That charge was stupid. You could have just—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mm-mm.” Constanze shook her head. “I know what I did. It was dumb. But it was dumber not to have you with me.” Constanze slowly approached Amanda, speaking as she did so. “I need to make myself better gear. That’s step one. Step two: You need to be able to use those swords. Step three: We fight him together. It’s my battle, but I need you with me. You’re part of my toolkit. I don’t think I’ll make it without you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Conz....”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean it.” Constanze reached down and snatched Amanda’s hands into her own, gripping them tightly and staring her sister in the eyes with a grim expression. “You said you’d be there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, sis, I don’t remember ever going back on that statement.” Said Amanda with a hint of defensiveness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “I know you’re not backing out, but I need you to promise me something: If we see him, you’ll either hold me back, or charge in with me. One or the other. Don’t do anything else. And if you hear him, if you see him before I do, if you so much as think that he’s around, you tell me immediately. Promise?” Constanze was dead flat in her delivery. She meant it wholeheartedly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda was a little taken aback at Constanze’s unblinking resolve. She seemed almost scary, like how she looked right before Amanda took a blow to the nose from her shorter sister. She wasn’t devoid of emotion, but all joy and love felt like it had gone from her, even as Amanda rationalized that it was this very hate that Constanze sought to be rid of. Amanda breathed in deep and exhaled long, keeping her eyes on Constanze’s own as her lips tightened. Eventually, she spoke. “I promise you I’ll be there. I’ll follow you every step of the way if I can, and if it’s not a good fight, I’ll do damn near anything to put distance between him and us.” Then she paused.  She realized she may have to strike out at her own sister just to stop her from running into an early grave. “…. And… I mean, anything, if… you know, you’re ok with that.” Her eyes started to look down as her initial confidence waned into uncertainty. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Schwester.” The flatness of Constanze’s voice was enough to bring Amanda’s eyes back up to meet her sisters. “I said you have two options. Follow me, or stop me. I don’t care how you do either. Just commit.” Come heaven or hell, Constanze would fight or fly by her sister’s side. That was the only way she saw herself, and by extension many of their friends, surviving this. Constanze didn’t want to get so stern or near aggressive with Amanda, but she knew how uncertain her sister could be when it came to the responsibilities she bore, and now was not the time for doubt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda heard it loud and clear. Her brows knit downward, and her lips stiffened into a determined grimace. “I promise.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze slowly closed her eyes before leaning in to gently caress Amanda, removing her hands from her sisters, and wrapping them about Amanda’s shoulders. “Thank you.” While flatly toned, the words came softer than before, as a whisper into Amanda’s ear. Amanda reciprocated the hug after a pause. Amanda was relieved to know Constanze trusted so much as to trust her with possibly harming Constanze if it meant saving her life. They both squeezed one another, took a deep breath, and then pulled away. Their determined gazes met one another a final time before fading away into some semblance of relaxed; more like, emotionally spent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Feeling better now?’ Asked Amanda. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze cocked her head top the left, then the right. “Mm-n-m” She shrugged bealuguredly. Now that she knew Amanda would be with her unto the breach no matter what happened, she could drop her serious guard and speak more plainly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes and no?” Constanze nodded at the clarification. “Better than just ‘no’ right?” Amanda smirked, and Constanze tried to smirk back, but it never manifested. The attempt was good enough for Amanda, at least. “Why don’t we get some food then? I’ve got salmon cooked up downstairs. It ain’t fancy, but it aint bad.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze felt her admittedly empty stomach for a moment before shaking her head. “I’m ok for a bit.” She said before sitting beside Amanda in the hammock. “Want to know if you’re ok though. I wasn’t the only one who broke down.” Constanze could’ve gone into the thing which set this breakdown into motion: The allusions to Woodward and Donar’s oak, and why that upset her, but that was the problem, she had no idea why it upset her, but it was the straw which broke the camel’s back. In the grand scheme of things, it didn’t matter to Constanze right now. She had placated the gnawing in her mind on the issues that most intensely plagued her, at least until they arrived in Ludinghal, and that was good enough. Now Amanda deserved a chance to wind down and figure her own stuff out. “Only fair.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda looked away, holding her cheek up with a hand, and an elbow on her knee. “Man, why do you gotta care so much?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sarcasm later. Emotional help now.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah….” Amanda couldn’t run from it forever. “Before I get into this… mess, this, this—Whatever the fuck is getting me sad at this point, because, frankly, I feel like it’s eight different things all at once.” Only five seconds in and she was already getting caught up in her ranty tone; the kind she used just before getting clocked by Constanze back at Winnie’s. “And I know you kinda feel that way too, but at least the big thing, you know, the anger shit and Nikolai and the dead parents; all of that’s connected. Meanwhile I feel like half of my problems are barely even related to one another.” And by the tenth second mark, Amanda was already tired of talking about it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze offered a gentle hand upon Amanda’s back and began to rub it gently. The motion may or may not have helped; it was hard to tell. “Start from square one. Work our way up. Just like last time. Agreed?” With Amanda’s reluctant nod, Constanze was at least certain that, despite Amanda’s tone and initial sarcasm, she wanted nothing more than to put these woes of her to a final and healthy rest; resolve them once and for all, even if that was impossible right now. “Where do you want to start?” At the least, her and Constanze would make progress, just as they made progress with Constanze’s troubles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda rummaged through her mind as she would an unfolded load of laundry. She tossed problems to and through in her mind, so to speak, darting from one matter to another. To bring order to this chaos, she spoke internally. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“OK! That’s enough horshittin’ around! Let’s make a list, people!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>It wasn’t the most elegant way to get the intrusive thoughts to stop flying around like bats out of hell, a bit of hard thinking and judicious mindfulness on Amanda’s part got things in order eventually. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“First off: Fuck my blood family.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>That wasn’t even part of the list, she just wanted to preface the list with that sentiment. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Now, let’s catalogue this shit ….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>If she could count her problems on her fingers in her mind, she would; though she felt she was liable to run out of fingers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ve got crippling self doubt. I may or may not have a drinking problem depending on how well I manage to fucking control myself after all of this is over. I’ve been a shitty and neglectful girlfriend who doesn’t deserve anyone as good as Hannah or Barbara. I’ve</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda paused part way through to correct herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Ok, yes, I’ve been a bad girlfriend, but let's try to be productive here. They fell in love with me for a reason and it’s not just because I’m hot.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>While it may have sounded like a tongue-in-cheek comment, that last bit was directed more at the mental construction she had of Diana, who had previously, and semi-often, joked that her teammates were only dating her because she was every femme’s wet dream when it came to appearances and demeanor. The sentiment was wholly in jest on Diana’s part, but prodding jokes like that had a way of unintentionally, and even unknowingly to the recipient, forming their own little wounds.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda began her list again, doing her best to not beat herself up needlessly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ve got crippling self doubt, drinking problem, maybe, girlfriend problem, definitely, and… and god damnit I just wish I knew why the fuck any of these people trust me to do what they want me to do?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her eyes mournfully turned to Constanze who was watching on patiently, yet sternly; a neutral expression by Constanze’s standards. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Hell, I’m starting to wonder why she’s ever trusted me? After all of the dumb shit I’ve done? After I took the fall for her needlessly just so I could throw my education away? Not that my parents made me wanna fucking stay but</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ugh!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda wiped her face curtly and continued where she left off before she began to become sidetracked. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“After I fucked up my hand like that? And she never even saw me trying to after that bug-eyed freak as if a punch was going to do anything….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She may have taken Chaos’ eye, but with how much danger that witch was putting them in, Amanda was eager to take more than that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda blinked, realizing she had been staring at Constanze for a minute or so now. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Guess I know where to start then.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda reached up and gently moved Constanze’s arm, the one that was rubbing her back down. She caressed it gently and rubbed her thumb along Constanze’s knuckles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A-Ah….” Constanze’s eyes widened just a little bit, and she shifted uncomfortably. “A-Amanda…. S-Sorry, but… can…. Don’t rub.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm? I thought it helped you when Sucy did something like this? I mean, I know we’re talking about me now, but—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do it with Sucy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Only</span>
  </em>
  <span> with Sucy.” Constanze gently tugged her hand away from Amanda’s grip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ohhhhh, my bad.” Amanda hadn’t realized it was a matter of intimacy. “Well that was awkward.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no, it’s fine.” Constanze shook her head before letting her body lean against Amanda’s as a sign of forgiveness. “Should’ve said that. Was unclear before.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda nodded before looking at her twitching left hand; the one she’d offered. “Could you maybe still hold mine? I’m not trying to make it weird, and I won’t do the thing, but—” Before she could finish, Constanze was already holding it firmly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm mmm?” Grumbled Constanze. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Like this?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She had spotted the trembling when Amanda gave special attention to her hand, and she remembered how torn up about it her sister had gotten back at Maxwell’s shack. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, like that…. Now where was I….” Amanda paused, drummed her right hand along her knee, and then spoke up once she found her place. “I wanted to ask, and I know you might get mad at me for even doubting this, and the only thing I wanna ask is that you </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> punch me out for asking a stupid question like this, because really, I should—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Constanze leaned in sternly, squeezing Amanda’s hand tighter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda sighed. She had to get to the point for her own sake. “Constanze: I don’t even know why </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> trust me of all people.” Constanze’s sternness fell into confusion. She truly hadn’t expected it, and it made Amanda’s long winded preamble make more sense. “See, this is why I was trying to over-explain this shit before I went and said it, but it’s out there now, so if you gotta get mad at me, then go ahead and—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Another grunt silenced Amanda. She looked toward Constanze, expecting the worst in terms of expression, but finding one borne of determined compassion. “I’ll tell you </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> why.” Constanze had a point to prove, maybe one of the most important ones she’d ever make. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But….” Amanda couldn’t help but run her self-disparaging mouth, even when in the face of such stalwart love. “But what about back when we first met? What about all of the trouble I got you into? What about all of the lies I told you and everyone else? What about—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mm!” It was Constanze’s turn to talk, and Amanda’s turn to listen. The latter shut her lips and slowly let her gaze droop to her own lap. She felt ashamed, but hopeful that she might be able to beat that depressing cloud that haunted her away with Constanze’s aid. “First: Do you remember </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> about what we’ve been through?” It was a rhetorical question of course. Constanze lifted up her free hand in the form of a fist and raised one finger per noted event. “You promised you’d help me get revenge. We fought everything we could just to make sure our school had a chance of getting help. We saved Porthcurno and helped fortify it. We beat two of three trials back in Scotland and nearly beat the third. You saved me from Nikolai.” That was five, and so Constanze brought the hand to rest over her other as she spoke of the six and final point on her current list. “And now we’re on our way to a militarized zone so I can….” She didn’t want to say it, but she did know most of what she wanted to do; just not </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do it. That would come later. “Irrelevant.” Constanze shook her head. “That’s just the </span>
  <em>
    <span>literal, life threatening things</span>
  </em>
  <span> you’ve helped me out with. That happened </span>
  <em>
    <span>all in the span of about a week.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stunning silence forced Amanda to look up. Her brows waggled uneasily. “Jesus wept it really only </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> been a week.” Two thousand and Twenty was going to be a </span>
  <em>
    <span>long</span>
  </em>
  <span> year, she could tell. And it hadn’t even started yet! They were but ten days from Christmas! </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Also Irrelevant!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze huffed. “Amanda. Schwester. You’ve spoken to me for </span>
  <em>
    <span>hours</span>
  </em>
  <span> about my problems. It’s my fight, and I’ve told you that, but you keep caring, and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>want you to keep caring.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She brought both of their hands up to chest height and clasped them together, clutching them intently. “That’s just in a week. Literally. A week. We’ve known each other for five years.” Amanda opened her mouth to comment, again, on the trouble she caused, but Constanze cocked her head forward and parted her own lips to scoff. The audacity of the motion alone was enough to cow Amanda’s reflexive self-kicking. “You didn’t get into trouble. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We </span>
  </em>
  <span>got into trouble. I could have stopped at any time. I didn’t. Why? Because it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>fun</span>
  </em>
  <span> getting into trouble with you. Because I trusted that you wouldn’t get us into anything </span>
  <em>
    <span>too stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span> for us to get out of. And you didn’t. We got out of everything. I had fun. I loved every second of it.” Constanze couldn’t help but form a soft smile as memories of happier times washed over her. “And I love you, schwester.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda fought off her own smile, tooth and nail. She failed however, though she could still resist with her words. “And what about me taking the blame for you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze sighed; the smile remained. “We’ve been over this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and I don’t remember you ever telling me why you didn’t stop me or say something after Finnelan all but said I was getting kicked out right on the spot.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda had a point there, and Constanze still felt a little guilty for that. She had her reasons though; Amanda and Constanze both did. “You always wanted out. Even after you got better about grades.” She’d said it just about every day, after all. It was no secret to anyone that Amanda simply didn’t care about getting kicked out until Hannah and Barbara entered the frame. “I knew what you were doing. You would have been mad at me. You needed a way out. Why then and there? I don’t know. I don’t need to know. Ancient history.” Constanze paused to nod in assurance. “And like I said before: You’re always there for me. That’s another example. You stuck your neck out </span>
  <em>
    <span>for me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I didn’t ask you, but you did it.” Amanda sniffled as her smile grew a little wider. Constanze continued: “You looked out for me. Even when we fought. Even though we were near strangers half of the time. You were there. You were </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> there.” She too began to feel the urge to weep just a little bit more. “That’s why I trust you, schwester. That’s why I can call you that and mean it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda sputtered; it was hard to speak initially when she had to force herself to not cry or whimper with a mix of joy and sorrow. “J-Je…. M…. God damnit Conz…. Why the fuck…?” Before her words could become cohesive, Amanda had to give into her loving instinct. She lunged forward and pressed Constanze close in a hug. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ough!” It was actually strong enough to make Constanze flinch; her face was peeking out over Amanda’s left shoulder, squeezed between her arm, face, and chest. “Mmm-mmm!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“O-Oh! Sorry!” Amanda eased up, but didn’t pull away, affording Constanze enough room to breath and actually reciprocate the hug. Finally, Amanda could ask her question. “What the fuck did I do to deserve you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze murmured her response. “Everything.” She shifted her posture so that her head more directly faced Amanda’s ear so that she could speak into it, wanting to give her voice a rest. “Everything. Even the lies. You learned from them. You made them right. We’re only human.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda could deny not a single word. Every fiber of her depressed being screamed at her to, to fall back into the pit, but Constanze had so succinctly and plainly laid bare Amanda’s meaningful life, and told her that it was, in of itself, one that mattered, one that held value not just by weight of existence, but through how much good Amanda had done for Constanze</span>
  <em>
    <span> alone</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It said nothing of the good she did for the rest of the New Nine, or anyone else. Such blatant truths could not be rejected, even by the most irrational fits of depression. It was so obvious now, so obligatory why Constanze trusted her, that she almost wondered why she asked Constanze the question at all. Then again, what was a depressive breakdown without a healthy dose of imposter syndrome? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some problems yet remained though: Amanda was in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>far</span>
  </em>
  <span> better state of mind, but some of her questions went unanswered. They were similar however, and so by way of her own judgement, she sought to answer them internally: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Constanze trusts me, and she always has, but what about everyone else involved in this? Do they think the same way?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>There were nearly a thousand students at Luna Nova. Did Amanda need all of them to trust her? Not literally, but that’s what it felt like given the earth shattering responsibility laid bare at the feet of the sister’s and Lotte. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“And then there’s that fire…. Asgall, Maxwell, if you old-as-dust bastards are still alive, then god, I hope you know how much I wanna do right by your order now. I know I came in running my mouth and acting like the punk-ass-bitch I am, but if there’s anything that’s going to keep me alive while doing what I do, it’s three things: My girlfriends, Constanze, and a cause to fight for.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>If only Amanda trusted herself to fight for that self same cause. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You guys didn’t know about that. I doubt Jehanne knew about it either.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> But she could prove her worth to them. It’s what the trials were for! Amanda’s eyes opened, and she looked down at her left hand. It still twitched occasionally. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I nearly gave my hand, and I’m going to have to risk a lot more if we wanna make it out of this.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her relaxed fingers slowly formed a fist. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Unworthy my ass! This fight’s just getting started!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her brows knit, a scowl formed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I ain’t Finnish, but I’ve got enough Sisu to kick that creep to the curb and then some!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Nikolai was going to pay for all he did. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“And don’t you get complacent, Queen Bitch!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Amanda had never seen Elizabeth Bathory in all her wretched splendor, but just knowing she existed was enough to earn Amanda’s ire. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“After we off your cronies, we’re coming for you next!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her eyes turned up, as if to swear by the stars themselves this oath of blood. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re goin’ down Bathory! Or my name ain’t Amanda-Freakin-O’Neill!”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Spite. That would be what Amanda defeated her doubt with. She didn’t realize it until now, but spite was the very thing which had her surviving as long as she did. Spite was what got her up every morning to fight. Spite was what pushed her to do all of the stupidly reckless stuff she did; spite aimed at the universe for not only challenging her, but threatening her loved ones. Spite is what helped her survive her blood family’s abuse. Spite borne from the very family that hurt her so deeply. All of it, Amanda theorized, all of it stemmed from her experience. When she could only know a life of resistance and struggle, it was only natural that after a time of relative peace, that she returned to that mode of struggle and spite. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spite wasn’t panacea though. Spite wasn’t the miracle elixir, the titular tincture to cure all woes, it was a tool. Spite wouldn’t convince her paradoxically thinking brain to suddenly “stop” being depressed, it wouldn’t cure any of the wounds her family inflicted on her, and it wouldn’t fix anything between her, Hannah, and Barbara. This was a fight that would last far beyond the Bathorys and their assault on Luna Nova, but before the war could be waged within, this battle before them would need to be won. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Similarly, amidst their drawn out hug, Constanze knew that she had only scratched the surface of what had been ruining her for the past few days. The dream had yet been elaborated on, but there was time for that later; time for that at Ludinghal. She was glad to have gotten all of the tears out of the way though, and while she expected to shed just a few more at the site of her likely ruined home, she knew that any conversations going forward on such heavy matters would flow more smoothly.. They may have known each other for five years, and they may have been sisters now, but only after tonight would their hearts be fully in sync. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even then, as Constanze held her head to Amanda’s chest, she could hear their hearts beating. They did not do so as one, but instead, they performed the very rhythm that haunted the witchgineer, no, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>witch-smith</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Two three one two three three one two three two three one two three two three one two three three….</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“If it’s coming from you and me too….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Then maybe I shouldn’t be so afraid of it.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Time had passed. The Forest had calmed. Will’s eyes opened slowly, intently. She had undisturbed for the duration of her meditations. No vile plantlife snaked toward no, no fel or fair beast dared enter her grove, and even the rain, acidic and erratic, had left nary a thread of her cloak wet. Even the stump she sat upon, and the ground immediately surrounding it was dry, as if the droplets themselves feared awakening Will from her pseudo-slumber. Arcturus remembered her well, and for good reason, and such was the inverse. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though all intrusions avoided Will, Will too avoided the intrusions. On the many occasions that she had returned here, not once did she go out of her way to antagonize the local fauna. She did not walk where she did not mean to, and did not linger anywhere save the grove she found herself in now. Will couldn’t accurately describe the relation she had to the forest. Was their mutual respect of one another built on understanding, or fear, and on who’s end did one fear, and the other understand? Did they both fear AND understand each other? Did the forest fear her, while she understood it? Or did she fear it while the forest understood her? One wouldn’t be incorrect to hazard a guess at any of the three possibilities, for even Will herself believed there to be truth in all answers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She rose from her stump, orderly as could be, and regarded the old and rotten thing with a backward glance. A slow blink saw it refurbished, healthy, freshly hewn of the tree that once grew from it. The grass was green, vibrant, but pressed down, showing signs of recent travel by human shaped prints. Lyrics, wispy and ephemeral, danced in the. Another slow blink saw the darkness return. The maggots at the base of where the roots met the earth writhed just as they had on arrival. A twelve legged arachnid skittered fast across the dead, grey grass, snatching up a few of the plump yellow insects before chittering away with its wriggling in its maw. The space remained well trodden, but not because Will had been pacing, but because some unspeakable horror had walked through her long before she arrived, and its imprint had left an inch deep, four-pronged shape in the earth. This place would never be the same. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Good.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Will thought as her slight, ever present scowl returned. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Let it always remain as such. May the memories of its former beauty die with me.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>From her cloak, Will produced a flower, beautifully white, splashed with pink on the petals, and thornless on the stem. She examined it in her hand for a moment before her skin radiated blinding heat. Her cloak billowed as the flower wilted and shriveled. Then it caught fire, and quickly became ash. Her aura receded with the flower’s destruction, and she cast the remnants to the stump, an offering of continued hate unto this place that had made her feel such love. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will turned about to make her leave, but she stopped herself calmly mid-stride. She saw, through the distant treelines, three figures, bearing full body cloaks and veils which obscured all features they may have possessed. Gloves concealed the flesh of their hands, and their draping clothes hid away any sight of footwork as they moved, making them appear to glide as ghosts. They were variable in height, and the only markings that differentiated them aside from bodily shape came in the form of colors. Red, Green, Black,  each possessing a gold diamond where their face would be. “Ahh…. You again.” She had encountered these… persons on several occasions. They were native to Arcturus, or at least that’s what Will theorized. She didn’t know this place inside and out, no one did, and no one could, but she knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>most</span>
  </em>
  <span> of it. “Pray tell if you have come here in search of Us, or if you merely pass by. We mean you no harm.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Silent as ever, the ghostly beings stared on. The one in black stepped forth and gestured carefully, fluidly, and slowly with their hands. In the air, Olde Lunar script bore their question: A singular word. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Release?”</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will sighed. “No…. We know nothing of release yet.” They had conversed several times prior, maybe not with these exact ghosts, but ones belonging to the same coven. Will knew them as witches, but her hatred for witching was stayed by a question she once asked them long ago; these ones followed not in the ways of The Nine. Their culture was an enigma, their people reclusive, and their presence in Arcturus unique. Will had no energy or time to waste lashing out the Pact’s wrath on those who posed no threat, or who earned no vengeance from past transgression. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Ghost In Black continued. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Victory?” </em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nay. Victory is yet beyond Our grasp.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Ghost In Black looked to its comrades, nodded, and retreated into the thickets. The Ghost In Red stepped forward. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Hope?”</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will did not answer for a long while. Her laps parted with an audible click as her downcast expression raised to meet the “eyes” of her visitors. “Hope fades.” She would not lie to them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Ghost In Red nodded, stepped out from the wood, and passed Will. She glanced back to see where it had gone, expecting them to have disappeared, and was satisfied to find it true. When she looked back to The Ghost In Green, she found them gesturing with another symbol; a final message. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Struggle?” </em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will shook her head, not in the negative, but in despair. She cut open a hole to the black void of hate, and left the final ghost with her answer. “That is all We can ever do anymore.” She stepped through the portal, leaving The Ghost In Green alone. With Will’s departure, Arcturus breathed a sigh of relief as natural sound returned, and the many crazed and demented things that roamed that land fled their hiding holes. The Ghost In Green looked about as the forest awakened once again. Then it left to places unknown, guided through paths unseen, that their vigil would resume. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is it really worth the effort to test this ritual when it’s barely even complete?” Cause never had that much patience for Effect’s over preparedness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You heard the Pursuer! This ritual could take two whole months to perfect! And that, We, assume, is only if we get lucky!” Effect finished up her side of the ritual triangle of gold shavings before she continued. “Or if we’re judicious enough to try and err.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause rolled her eyes. “So be it.” Neither of them had the energy or desire to fight for now. All that would do is anger Will, and their heads still hurt from that scolding they were given. The Twins stood in the dark void on opposite sides of a golden triangle, surrounded by jagged, lightning like shapes that twisted out from each vertex in random directions. Inside the triangle were one hundred and eighty candles, filling the entirety of the space between the sparse lines of gold shaves that gave the triangle shape. Above them fluttered disembodied moth wings. The ritual was coming together, or at least, a tiny, </span>
  <em>
    <span>tiny </span>
  </em>
  <span>piece of it. “Is there anything we need to do now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Effect hummed thoroughly, regarding the Nahuatl tablet, held aloft by Fiela, that gave greater insights into the grand scheme of the ritual. “Sadly, We believe this to be an incomplete source.” Indeed, on closer inspection, the sides of the tablet are jagged and rough, but not due to weathering; as if broken away from a wall. “It doesn’t specify what the amethyst is for yet, and Elements be damned if We’re going to waste our time hunting down Vishaps for their venom before we know if we actually need it or not!” Some rambling in the visionic, dream-like recounts from the books the Twins searched through made several mentions of sea serpents, or sea dragons; one Armenian text described them as Vishaps, serving as the Twins only solid lead on that detail. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, We understand, but if we’re going to go through with this, then let’s be about it! We already know it won’t work.” Cause crossed her arms about her chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well that </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>the point, you know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, We know al</span>
  <span>—Just….”  Cause let her arms fall then as she sighed and rolled her head back. “Just start the damn ritual already.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We would see this for ourselves as well. Please, Effect, entreat Us to your progress.” Will’s voice sent shivers up the Twins’ spines. They borth spun about in search of Will, finding her having just emerged from a portal with her hands held neatly behind her back. All of the emotional baggage she had been carrying in the prior conversation had been dropped at the gateway, allowing Will to focus more on the matters at hand. “Don’t just stand there and gawk at Us, you were testing the counterspell ritual, no?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y-Yes, Will, but only to see if w-we have the initial steps correct.” Effect nodded thrice over, still fearful of Will’s questionable stability. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause cast her gaze to the side, lowering her eyes. “Effect thinks it p-prudent to root out any mistakes as we create them, rather than cleaning up the ritual at the end when all of the parts are in motion.” Now that Cause said it out loud, she could understand why Effect was so adamant on conducting their research like this. Still, she was an obstinate twin with little patience for work she thought or knew to be useless in the short term. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A sound stratagem, albeit…. One that may require more time than we can afford.” Cause took silent pride at her “rightness” as signified by Will’s words. “Regardless, please, proceed.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Effect nodded once and turned to face Cause. The Twins locked eyes and begrudgingly nodded while raising up their left and right hand respectively. They held their arms out perpendicular to their bodies and began to circle around the ritual triangle, keeping perfect pace with one another, always staying in the exact same spots relative to the other’s positions. Then came the chanting. They were low whispers in both a Lunar dialect, and a magical tongue that none of the Fates understood intimately, but one they could mimic based on the scribework they managed to dig up. From their palms, golden lightening began to form into orbs which then shot out to meet one another over the center of the triangle. The mothless, disembodied wings then cogregrated, forming their own circle around the conjoined orb of golden energy. The candles began to light, one by one, as strikes from the center mass set fire the dry wicks. Three minutes passed before the striking of the candles ceased, and with the last lighting of the candle, the whispering incants grew louder, if only for a moment. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Susperia, Ent, Eternia, Anhak!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Their words resonated along the lightning which connected their palms to the central mass of swirling energy. The orb grew in size, burgeoning large enough to consume the circle of fluttering moth wings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s where it ended though. The next step lay hidden, and so the growing orb soon sputtered and spasmed, breaking apart into little strands of sand and dust before dissipating into nothing. The candles all went out in an instant, and the Twins’ palms were shocked. “Tch!” Both of them winced back in minor pain, waving their wounded hands about to rid themselves of the sensation. Both grumbled and groaned before speaking in unison. “That’s all we have.” Though Effect stated it with much more promise while Cause sounded expectantly annoyed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will hummed and rubbed at her chin. “You will need a stabilizing agent to keep the mass of… whatever that energy is, from breaking apart. We would suggest an earthen reagent, perhaps a… crystal of sorts? Cause, if We are not mistaken, was the earthen realm’s knowledge not something you understood keenly?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Crystal…?” Cause paused, unsure at first, until a metaphorical light bulb flashed over her head. “Ah! That’s what the amethyst is for?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Effect was understandably confused. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause, being the geomancer of the two, shook her head. There was no time to explain the intricacies of grounding minerals in regard to magical flow. “Simply trust Us, sister. We know what to do.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will smiled for the briefest of moments. Perhaps they would win the day yet. Looming problems remained however, problems Will would see fixed if at all possible. “Before you resume your research, We demand an update on a few matters.” The twins snapped to attention, leaning in curiously. “Firstly, what has been done with the parasite? The one that followed Us here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The twins spoke as one again. “We sealed him tightly and bound him in arcane chains! Without any magic to aid him, he is at our mercy.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will nodded. “Good. See to it that he survives. We may have use for him in the coming battles.” She walked past Effect and began to round the ritual triangle, passing by Cause as well, and continuing her circular path as she asked further questions. “Secondly, how does Chaos fare? Is she awoken?” The displeased looks on the Twins’ faces told Will all she needed to know. “How many days do you believe she shall remain unconscious for?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Er…. Three?” Began Effect. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Four at most, surely!” Cause concluded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will sighed. “It’s better than nothing…. Now, lastly, have our allies,” She hated to even call them that at this point. “Done anything useful in the meantime? Do they even have a plan, or was Nikolai the only one with any intention of actually solving the problems which face us.” She didn’t even like the fact that Nikolai </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> the only leading Bathory figure to do such a thing. If anything, that just angered will further, for she found him to be… detestable at best. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause and Effect look to one another with growing concern. They hadn’t heard </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> from the Bathorys since they began their research into the counterspell. “We… weren’t exactly,” Cause began. “Trying to keep an eye on them.” Effect continued before they spoke as one. “The prospects of our research were too demanding for us to perform both tasks. Surely you understand.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will sighed yet again, deeper this time. “Yes, We understand.” She understood all too well, but the fact that the Bathorys hadn’t summoned any of them during this time spoke to likely inaction on their part. “There’s only one thing to do then. We shall host a war council. We will demand that they show us the fruits of their labors as a sign of continued loyalty, but furthermore, so that we may guide them toward our shared goal of restoring time.” Her upset tiredness had been long replaced by stalwart, dutiful monotone now. “We shall see to this meeting being arranged for sometime tomorrow. Hopefully they will not disappoint us, given all of the resources we’ve left at their disposal.” But then again, Will and the other Fates had little trust in noble sorts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We await your call then,” Cause nodded in agreement while Effect continued. “Though in the meantime we shall continue our research.” Effect snapped Fiela away before she joined her twin in speaking: “But what if they </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> disappoint? What is our course then, Bearer of The Mantle?” Neither twin had any clue what exactly to do at that point. They could only hope that Will had contingencies waiting in the wings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sadly, Will did not. “There is no point in plotting a course for the worst when we do not even know where we stand.” At the least, she had ideas bouncing around her head. The problem merely lay in lacking a context to apply them, and Will was never a very creative thinker when it came to dreaming up scenarios and how to best navigate them. She worked better with the hard coded, and visible material reality provided her with; she was calculating, careful. “That said, We would also entreat you to tend to Chaos as you see fit. The sooner that we can have her on her feet, the better.” Beyond the obvious benefit that came with having four minds at work rather than three, Will was quietly concerned for the well being of her erratic sister. Her condition had been deteriorating so terribly fast, and times were becoming desperate. These were dark days for the Fates indeed, but Will refused to let her light die out without a fight. “Now we go. Await Our word, and then join Us in the throne room. Understood?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The twins nodded fervently. “We shall be swift! You can be certain of that!” With that, the Twins departed in opposite directions, flying off to continue their research for lost and ancient knowledge on the magicks of time. They needed to split up to cover more ground, but more importantly, to get away from one another. It was one of the few things keeping them from biting at each other’s throats, literally and figuratively. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With Will now alone, she turned about and opened another portal, one that led to where Castle Bathory hovered. She had many words for Elizabeth and her ilk, and they would be heard in time. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><hr/><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Hold The Hammer High [PART 1]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So uh... damn. AO3 can't fit this one chapter in one post. It's gotta be two parts. I know from a wordcount and content standpoint, yes, I wish I could make thise 2 chapters, but I really can't. Narratively speaking, I feel like if I stopped the chapter early it would be a huge drop in flow, especially for readers who are reading as I post. THAT SAID! Part 2 of this chapter, and it's companion scene titled: Cup Runneth Over, are also posted! Just head over to the next chapter to get the rest of this, and idealy, these two chapters should be treated as one, titled: Hold The Hammer High | Cup Runneth Over, but this is what we have to do. Oh well!</p><p>I hope you enjoy it regardless!</p><p>Tumblr: https://karmotrinedreams91.tumblr.com/</p><p>Twitter: https://twitter.com/KarmotrineDrea1</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>The canopy may have been thick, suffocating even, when stared at from afar, but life and light found a way down into the grove of Donar’s Oak. There was no mistaking the morning for the evening, sunrise from sunset; there was an aura about the place deeply rooted in the time of day. Maybe it was the plants and wildlife that intrinsically knew the time of day, or maybe Donar’s Oak itself kept track of time for the world under it, and simulated the feelings by way of spores or some magical influence. Regardless, the trio of witches had awoken pleasantly, dined well, and saw themselves at the end of a simple road at the northernmost edge of the grove, accompanied by a host of the local witches and Fae. They were being given an especially warm departure after they spoke of their quest when pressed over breakfast. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shock and disbelief were the most common of responses, but not in the same way the witches of the wider world reacted on Vexfulhexful. The people of Donar’s Oak were bewildered, but defaulted to the truth in their judgement. They offered what supplies they could give, and what supplies the trio could actually accept, both logistically and conscientiously, were taken with smiles and thanks. What the wayward witches truly needed though were allies in the coming battle. The people of Donar’s Oak were peaceful and unfamiliar to such conflicts, understandably so, but a few Fae offered their magics only to be turned away for their own safety. Constanze and Amanda remembered what became of their Fae allies back in Scotland. They wouldn’t ever want to take up arms against those who willingly came to their aid, let alone against the already enslaved beings that fought for the Bathorys. And so, Amanda, Constanze, and Lotte would be leaving Donar’s Oak just as uncertain of their victory as they were when they arrived. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, that’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>wholly</span>
  </em>
  <span> fair to say, for Amanda and Constanze felt that they had made a sort of breakthrough last night. Maybe not a breakthrough with their individual issues, but a breakthrough in how they relate to each other as sisters, and how they would come to carry their burdens as one, rather than as individuals. That had to serve for something in the face of all consuming dread, right?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright! Conz, checklist!” Amanda was in a much better mood today. She felt it was right to be hyped up, but also necessary. She knew that things would only get grim again come tonight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Constanze knew that fact all the more than Amanda did. She hoped more than her sister that the process would be painless, though she was certain that fate wouldn’t be kind in that regard. “Clothes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte ran over their assembled luggage, putting them onto their respective brooms and minimizing them as Constanze rattled off the items in question. “Check!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze crossed off the word on her notepad as she went. “Potions.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Check!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Weapons.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda all-too-coyly kicked the side of the black case containing the shattered twin blades. The case opened, just as planned, revealing the blades in all their broken glory. “Check.” Her words coincided with the clack of the case closing as her boot shut it; her posture was now bent at the knee with one foot leveled higher on the case, and the matching arm resting on the aforementioned knee. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze rolled her eyes at Amanda before continuing. “Tools….” Constanze looked to her left and saw her bag beside her legs. “Check.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anything else?” Asked Amanda. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cash. And sleeping bags.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda checked her jacket pockets and found the funds the Jansson parents had given them and nodded. Meanwhile, Lotte opened up one of the suitcases only for the over-stuffed sleeping bags to burgeon out, knocking her onto her back as their forms returned to normal size. She was laid out flat on the ground under a pile of three heavy duty sleeping bags and a folded up tent, packed just in case. Her response was a simple, if annoyed, thumbs up that stuck out from below the pile. “Heheh, check and check!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda strolled over to aid Lotte in setting the suitcase and its contents right while Constanze finished off the list and turned to Gerbera and the others. “We’re leaving now.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few helpful villages came closer to help Lotte and Amanda in re-stuffing the magically large suitcase with all of the beddings. Gerbera spoke as they did so. “We’re glad to have had you! And of course, I think I can speak for everyone when I say that I hope you and yours prevail against this ancient foe.” He paused. Realization encroached on his glad but sorry-to-see-you-go expression. His hands reached to his waist, into what must have been a pocket formed by his root and vine borne biology, and pulled out a small charm. “And take this, as a token of our belief in your cause.” Gerbera held it out for Constanze to accept it:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze’s eyebrows rose by a hair as she opened her left palm to accept the gift. It was a necklace that Gerbera held aloft from between two of his four fingers, comprised of three parts: Two strands of leather, expertly cut and preserved, served as the base for the necklace, entwined in a perfect braid from end to end, showing no signs of a knot, or of terminating, likely due to magical bindings. The charm itself that contrasted the dark brown of the leathers was a silver hammer, resembling ancient depictions of Mjölnir hanging down from the hilt, stuck against a silver Triskelion. Gerbera smiled wider now as he spoke. “May </span>
  <em>
    <span>His</span>
  </em>
  <span> thunder sound your approach, and may </span>
  <em>
    <span>Her</span>
  </em>
  <span> lightning brighten your path.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze already had the necklace in her hands when the words came to her ears. She almost wanted to reject the gift, if only for the prayer he offered them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Her lightning….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She hadn’t spoken to Amanda about it at all, but all she knew surrounding The Nine, and Woodward specifically, disquieted Constanze, and the history of Donar’s Oak only fueled that fire. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Convenient. Again.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze could go her whole life without saying that word ever again, but the worst of her inclinations told her that things would only get more convenient as time went on. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Can’t just be us.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She reasoned. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Woodward came for Akko. Now Vaal and Jehanne came for us.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze focused intently on the necklace, forgetting to speak to Gerbera, prompting a slightly concerned look from the Sylvan man. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“That leaves six unaccounted for.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze thought hard on the words Vaal let slip down in the chamber, on how their legacies would live on. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Who will they go to next? I know they call us the New Nine, but</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is something wrong, Constanze?” Gerbera held a hand to his chin uncertainly. “Is it not to your liking? I know you three do not worship as we do, but I thought—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mm? No, no. Fine. It’s good.” Constanze bit her tongue on what she actually thought. As she always said, or rather, thought, better to avoid any awkward social confrontation by going with the flow; it usually meant that the interaction would end sooner rather than later. “Thank you.” Just to show her thanks, and to reassure Gerbera that no problems were present, Constanze donned the necklace. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, I apologize. I can be a bit self… conscious! That’s the word. Self conscious when it comes to my handiwork.” Gerbera chuckled a tad nervously. “For all the ways I can change my body, you’d think it’d make sense for me to add another finger. It would make </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>many things much easier, but, ahh well. So it goes.” A nonchalant and friendly shrug saw the topic left behind. “I can only imagine how stricken you are about all of this. I hope my necklace helps alleviate that, even if it is... well, a necklace.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It will.” No it wouldn’t, but, lying made this less painful. Not that it was terribly uncomfortable to endure, more mildly uncomfortable in a way that agitated Constanze in a very particular way. “Thanks again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Any time friend.” Gerbera nodded his head, signalling that he’d spoken his piece. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze turned her head and found a host of Goblins, Boggarts, a Troll, and many Faeries all struggling alongside Lotte and Amanda to get the tents and sleeping bags stuffed into the suitcase that, logically, should never be able to hold them. Finally, with one last grunting heave, the group fell into a big pile as the suitcase slammed shut, its contents sealed inside. Gerbera and the other onlookers couldn’t help but laugh, and by way of infection, Constanze laughed a bit too. Once everyone had had their fun, the pile untangled itself with about as much grace as one might expect from such a group. “We ready?” Asked Constanze now that her sister and friend were upright and unoccupied. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m game.” Amanda fixed her coat as she replied, turning to Lotte who was busy repairing her glasses with a simple spell. After a few moments of adjusting the spectacles to rest neatly on her face, she nodded, prompting Amanda to turn back to Constanze and the others. “We’re all set then!” Her words coincided with a simple stomp that brought her broom upright and into her hands. “Oh, but before we go, Gerbera!” The Sylvan man had initially begun to wave alongside his village compatriots, but paused, pointing at himself curiously as Amanda called to him. “Yeah, I wanted to know how to get back here.” Amanda used her free hand to produce a small pocket-map. “For a special occasion, y’know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gerbera rubbed the back of his barky neck. “I’m not so sure if I’m allowed to do that….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm?” Constanze grunted a question, meaning to ask: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What for?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda grinned. “What, not even for newly-weds?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If Lotte had a drink to spit out, it’d be everywhere now. Instead, she choked on air while Constanze blinked in bewilderment while the villagers were taken up with happy surprise. “Did you…?!” Constanze couldn’t imagine it. There’s no way Amanda proposed to Hannah and Barbara amidst a crisis like this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, she didn’t. “Damn, you two need to chill out!” Amanda laughed, rolling her neck. “It’s for the future! I ain’t got nothing set in stone, but I think this place would be pretty nice to take Hannah and Babs to.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gerbera, being a Sylvan of soft heart and sappy eyes, in the more literal sense since he couldn’t cry actual tears, gave in. “Ohh! Give your map here, I’ll mark it for you, but please don’t bring anyone else but your friends and loved ones here! You have to promise me this!” Gerbera wiped away a small sap-tear from his eyes while molding a finger into a sort of writing utensil that utilized a resin instead of ink. Amanda confidently handed over her map and took it back after a quick X marked the relative location of Donar’s Oak for her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Course I promise! I may be a bit of a rabble rouser, but I know when to cool my jets.” Amanda stowed the map in her jacket before snapping a finger to point at Gerbera. “Y’all take care now! And if you ever need any help call—” She paused upon realizing that they didn’t have phones, and Amanda wasn’t all too bright about how long distance communication magic worked. She just knew that when she did “the thing” with the “thing associated with the person” one was trying to contact, and then “it does the calling thing,” which was, of course, a very educated perspective to have. Amanda had to improvise. “Uhhh…. Here!” She swapped out the map for her flask and handed it over in Gerbera’s direction. “Take this and use it in whatever kinda ritual you need to do to give me a ring.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“O-Oh! That’s v-very kind, but, we wouldn’t want to be a burden on you!” Gerbera accepted the gift nonetheless. He didn’t want to seem cross by refusing it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t sweat it! I owe you guys for last night, and I might as well pay it forward for the future.” Amanda stuffed her hand back into her jacket pocket and casually rested against her broom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not exactly sure why we’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> you anyway, n-not to sound rude!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah! I didn’t really say much about myself.” Amanda fauxly cleared her throat. “To keep it short: I’m a bit of a wand for hire. I’m out here to do whatever good I can for anyone who needs it. So, if you got a big-ass monster stomping around your woods that needs dealing with, you know to call.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gerbera spoke more confidently now. “Ah! But of course! You would be something of a warrior given you’re off to fight vampires! And, I must admit, we do sometimes find ourselves worrying about what we might do if a chimera or something else big and terrifying managed to trundle its way into our wood.” He paused to think on his words a bit more. “Though the monsters we’re worried about are hardly anything like that.” His mind went to men and women who came with axes, saws, trucks, and chippers. The thought of Donar’s Oak being felled a second time sent a shiver up his vines. “We may just take you up on that, Amanda.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda gave a cocksure thumbs up in response before she heard the tapping of Constanzes’ impatient foot. Amanda turned to find Constanze with her arms crossed about her chest, tilting her head in Amanda’s direction. “Mmm mm mmm…?” What Constanze meant was: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you done advertising…?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda rubbed the back of her head, smiling innocently. “Sorry to keep you guys waiting,” Her head then turned back to the people of Donar’s Oak. “We don’t mean to cut and run, but we gotta go!” States of understanding and waves goodbye were offered as the sentiment reached the peoples’ ears; they didn’t mind at all. With their goodbyes said, Amanda, Constanze, and Lotte settled up onto their brooms and took flight. A fluted-tune followed them as they ascended, bidding the wood to part at the thickest point to give the triumvirate a clear, skyward path out of the grove. A final wave was given by Lotte to the people below as they ascended past the canopy and then flew off to the north. Immediately, Constanze took point of the formation. She may have seldom visited home, but the landscape made sense to her in a way that she didn’t fully understand, and so she’d be the one to spearhead this leg of the journey. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sadly, the head of the spear is exactly what they would find in that ruined town. Or rather, the spear’s tip. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>About thirty minutes later….</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“N-Not to pry, Amanda,” Lotte wanted anything to alleviate the silence of their broomride. “But w-w-were you really thinking, or, er, are you thinking about uh…. You know….” A short silence followed. The only thing that prompted Lotte to continue was Amanda glancing back in understandable confusion. “Pr…. Pro… proposing?” Matters of romance and love </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> got Lotte flustered. She was blushing </span>
  <em>
    <span>for</span>
  </em>
  <span> Amanda at this point!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda meanwhile couldn’t help but laugh and cover the lower part of her face to stifle it. “Oh god, you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> gonna ask me that? At a time like this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze interjected pointedly; they would be the only words she had to say on this matter. “You brought it up first. </span>
  <em>
    <span>At a time like this</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, shit, guess I can’t argue with that.” Amanda lowered her hand, revealing a slightly flush grin that was stuck on her face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I mean it though! That’s a big deal! Like! The biggest deal! It’s the culmination of love! The climax of a relationship! The moment that you, Hannah, and Barbara will remember up until the grave! The final thing you think about before the sweet bliss of death takes you and them away into a final embrace of love and passion and—!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Woah, woah! Lotte!” Amanda had to stop Lotte before she waxed enough poetics to put all of the world’s candlemakers out of business. “Kinda morbid, don’tcha think?” Amanda chortled, her complaint only half-serious. “I mean, I know you’ve kinda made friends with a skull that talks to you, but maybe let's save the ‘when we’re old and grey’ talk for when, well, when we’re old and grey!” As if Amanda ever believed she’d reach such an age. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte grew timid, as she was want to become when her unintend ramblings bled out from her mind and into words. “Sorry….” Her apology was more a sigh than anything else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda caught onto the embarrassed vibes coming from Lotte quickly and decided to entreat her subject. “I’m curious though. What’s got you so interested in this whole proposal thing?” After all, it’s not like she was trying to shame Lotte for speaking of what Amanda first brought up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte sucked her lips in for a moment before peering up to meet Amanda’s backward gaze. “Well…. I was talking to Barbara a week or so before… well, all of this stuff happened, and she…. I didn’t say anything and….” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Worry began to spread through Amanda’s body. A queasiness in her gut and an aching in her throat; guilt, undirected, and uncertain. Outwardly, she did her best to keep cool. “You gotta be more specific, Lotte, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She….” Lotte sighed. “She vented at me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>A lot</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Amanda didn’t need to ask any further questions. The cannonball that just sank into her gut did all of the deductional work for her. Even though she had begun to make amends with Hannah and Barbara, the idea of this problem having affected Barbara so much that she had to “vent,” a thing that Barbara of all people hardly ever did, left Amanda silent. The dreadful look on Amanda’s face stung at Lotte in a similar manner; a sudden realization of guilt. “I…. I’m sorry, I told her I’d keep it secret, but…. Ohh….” Now Lotte just felt like an ass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no, it’s fine. You didn’t say anything specific. I’m….” Amanda sighed. “It’s ok. Let’s just… not worry about it.” Amanda faced forward and let her words carry back to Lotte after a moment of resolution. “You weren’t there for this, but…. I’m working things out with them. One step at a time.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-Is that why you gave away your flask?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y-You know…. The thing you gave Gerbera so they could perform an </span>
  <em>
    <span>Astralia Projecta</span>
  </em>
  <span> spell?” Such was the incantation to make contact with someone from afar; at least when you weren’t certain of their location. Otherwise, the object or merely the thoughts related to the person one sought to contact was enough. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda blinked twice. “I gave him my flask?” A quick pat down of her pants and jacket pockets confirmed her own question. “Well…. Shit!” She hadn’t even thought twice about it when they were talking. It was all reflexive, instinctual. He needed something that had a connection to Amanda, something she had used a great deal, or held a sentimental bond with. In Amanda’s case, it was both of those. “Fuck! How far away are we?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We are </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> turning around for a flask.” Constanze chided. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>A</span>
  </em>
  <span> flask, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>MY </span>
  </em>
  <span>flask that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hannah</span>
  </em>
  <span> got me for our first anniversary.” Amanda thumbed at herself, sounding a bit angry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the two sisters began to argue, Lotte could only fall into a brief argument of her own; all internally of course. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You already said that she vented a lot, so why don’t you say something about it? The promise is null anyway, so just do it!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No! Amanda said herself to just change the subject! And I don’t think Barbara would…. I didn’t say anything incriminating so</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“So what? You said SOMETHING and Barbara said to not say ANYTHING about that talk you had. Something is anything, right?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“But it’s not right!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Maybe Amanda NEEDS to hear this. Ever think of that?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“B-But</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte’s argument was cut short by a loud groan of defeat from Amanda. “Fuck it, whatever. I’ll come back for it another time…. God, Hannah better not find out though, she’d KILL me if she knew I lost that.” Given all that’s gone down, maybe Hannah would mean it literally. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte interjected, having decided between her uncertain selves. “Er… Amanda?” Amanda turned her head around beleagueredly to see what Lotte would ask about now. She hardly seemed like in a mood to speak more on it, but Lotte had to push her. “Barbara was… actually venting about Hannah, mostly….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The exhaustion sloughed off of Amanda, being replaced by morbid curiosity. The concern remained just as strong as before though. “About Hannah…? I mean, I know she’s got her own problems, like, we all do, but… what’s that gotta do with this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y-You have to promise first you won’t say that I told you. I promised Barbara I wouldn’t, a-and I don’t wanna be a bad friend. I’m just telling you because… well, maybe it’ll help you three figure things out.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda shifted her jaw from left to right before blowing air up from her cheek. “Ok. I won’t say any of that. I’ll… try and make it seem like I just guessed about whatever it is you have to say, or something.” She was more baffled if anything now. Barbara wasn’t one to like secrets at all. If anything, she hated keeping anything and everything from Hannah and Amanda, so this either had to be tragically awful information, or something that rubbed Barbara in such a way as to make her clamp up like a frozen scallop. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok…. Barbara was… she was actually kinda mad about Hannah buying you that flask.” Amanda felt a bit of horror take hold of her eyebrows as Lotte began, as if she’d made a terrible mistake, even if this seemed “trivial” in the greater scheme of things. “She was worried it would enable you, and kind hated that Hannah would get on your case about drinking only to, well, do that…. It’s… it’s, dumb, I know, but…. Maybe giving it away like that is a good thing. That’s all I really wanted to say. Er, that’s what I meant by…. Ohhh, you get the point!” There were plenty of other things Barbara vented about, but most of those things didn’t have a place in this conversation, and Lotte wasn’t one to air dirty laundry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shit… seriously?” Amanda looked forward once more, her eyes cast down on the passing landscape below. “Why didn’t she just say something back then? I’m certain Hannah would have…. Oh whatever….” Amanda wasn’t dismissive of Barbara’s possible reasons, and more so of the topic as a whole. “We’re not going back for it, and… maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t need to be carryin’ around something like that after I promised I wouldn’t be drinking as often.” Did Amanda want it to happen this way? Of course not. But would she argue that the irony didn’t work out in her favor? No, because she couldn’t. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Get your head back in the game O’Neill.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Amanda thought to herself as awkward silence fell over the group. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s not a big deal. Just head back there sometime after this vampire shit is over with and get it back. You can always leave something else with them for the whole contacting spell thing.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>In the end, it was a minor issue, one dwarfed a thousand times over by any she might otherwise face soon. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Besides, we started making up with them already. There’s no point feeling guilt again when all that’s gonna do is slow us down.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just then, Constanze decided that she had enough of the silence, and decided to raise a concern of hers with Lotte. “We’re not far from Ludinghal. You can still sit this out. Probably a town nearby with a hostel. We can meet you there once we’re done.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte snapped to attention at Constanze’s sentiment, summoning up what sternness she could to retort. “No way! I-I said I’d… go with you guys! And I meant it!” She brought her fists close to her chest and clenched them tightly. “I’m afraid. I’m terrified even, but, but you guys can’t…. I can’t leave you! Not now. If I can’t do this, then how am I going to help anyone at Luna Nova?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No one’s making you fight.” Constanze remarked with an unintended bit of sharpness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I’m making myself fight!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda let her broom slow down to be neck and neck with Lotte’s, such that she wouldn’t have to awkwardly keep looking back to talk. “I know I said I’d help you learn some more offensive spells, and I will, but you know, Conz is right. If—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop treating me like a kid!” Lotte shook her head and tightly gripped her broom, looking quite annoyed. It all fell away though after a moment of frustration; tired concern returned to Lotte in its place as she took note of Amanda and Constanze’s surprise and concern raised by her shout. She sighed heavily as she began to speak. “I’m sorry…. I didn’t mean to yell but…. Can I be a bit honest? I know you guys have a lot on your plate, but I just wanna say this really quick so I can at least say I didn’t just bottle it up all this time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze slowed her own broom and quietly came beside Lotte, flanking her on the left while Amanda flanked the right. Both sisters nodded to each other and looked intently to Lotte. With her companions’ eyes fixed upon her, Lotte began a brief venting of her own. “I’m tired, you guys. Tired of always being the one who shies away from the r-really bad stuff we get ourselves into. And when I don’t do that, I feel like I’m just along for the ride…. And yeah, I’m just along for the ride right now, b-but it’s different this time, or at—at least, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> it to be different. I want to be right there with you guys through this because… because too much is riding on the line for me to hang back!” A final huff signaled the end of her immediate speaking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze hummed sympathetically. Parts of what Lotte said rang familiar in her ears, but she knew her problems were fundamentally different. “Mmmmm….” Constanze preferred to write more wordy responses when up in the air like this, but the wind made that a problem, so she spoke over it, and did her best to be curt, but helpful. “Do what’s best for you. Only you know that. But don’t force it if you’re unsure.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte shook her head. “The problem is I always feel like I’m unsure! For once I… I wanna be certain that I’m going to do something and be there right alongside everyone!” Even then, that certainty only added on more uncertainties, ones that Lotte couldn’t as easily reconcile, only adding to how she detested the whole situation. “It’s why I wanted you to help teach me a few spells, Amanda. And, i-if you know any Constanze, then please, teach me them. I always stayed away from the self defense and… well… all of the aggressive sounding classes because…. Because….” Lotte sighed. “I don’t know why, I just did, but I’m regretting it now and I really just want to be sure I won’t drag you two down or be a burden. If someone got hurt or worse because I… needed saving or something…. God, I couldn’t imagine what I’d do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda would have nudged Lotte’s shoulder as a gesture to cheer her friend up, but they were flying right now, so that was probably a bad idea. “You’re not gonna get anyone killed, or hurt, or, whatever. And hey, maybe you’re not the best mage or fighter, but you can talk to spirits like no one else.” Lotte wanted to deny that; anyone who tried and learned well enough could surpass her, but she digressed and let Amanda continue, hoping there was an affirming point to be made. “That may not sound all too useful, but think about it: Luna Nova’s one of the oldest places we’ve ever been to. Hell, it’s definitely the oldest place we’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>lived in</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Imagine it, Lotte: The school itself could come alive and help us fight off those freaks if you’re able to wake enough of ‘em up! I’m sure they’d help!” Amanda had a lot of experience dealing with spirits now. Not in the same way that Lotte did, but in the sense that Amanda had seen just how varied and powerful spirits could be, whether they were ghostly apparitions, or consciousnesses born within objects themselves. The spectral was not to be assumed to be weak, even if its ability to act upon the physical seemed limited at first. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte knew that very well! She had studied spirits for all of her life, but still, she never thought herself as someone to rouse them to anger. She sang to them, quietly, softly, and would listen into the wee hours of the night, about all of the stories the spirits had to tell, all of the history they had experienced and kept hidden from those who couldn’t sing like Lotte could. “M-Maybe, but…. But I don’t… you can’t just wake up an entire school’s worth of spirits just like that. I’d need to do a </span>
  <em>
    <span>really big</span>
  </em>
  <span> ritual to get that to work, and I doubt we’d have the space or time to set it up if everything’s paused in the middle of a battle.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, shit…!” Amanda spat to the side opposite of Lotte, racking her brain for an answer. “There’s gotta be some way you can help out with that! And like, I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> gonna try and teach you some useful spells, but I’m not exactly a teacher, and even if Conz can do that better than me, we gotta stay on the move. We don’t know how much time we have, and we won’t know until we get there, so I can’t make any promises on how much you’ll be able to pick up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte sighed. “S-Something’s better than nothing….” A short, contemplative silence followed, broken by a whisper that was hard to identify. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Protect…. You….” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was faded, ancient, and feminine in tone, prompting a jolt of surprise to rush through the group. Lotte was quick to identify it though. It sounded familiar, after all. She looked down to her broom and spotted Malitrix’s bright eyes flashing incoherently. “M-Mali? Was that you?” A pause in the flashing preceded a singular blink, and then a repeat of her prior message. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Protect…. You…. Will… pro….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Then Malitrix’s eyes grew dim, as if she had been saving up power all of this time just to utter a few syllables without the aid of ritual or charm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“M-Mali!” Lotte slowed her broom down to a halt, prompting Amanda and Constanze to circle back around and cautiously watch the skull. Lotte reached down and took Malitrix off of the hook she had been attached to and shook her gently. “Mali? Mali, are you ok?” Lotte seemed quite concerned for a possessed skull, but Amanda and Constanze weren’t about to call it strange. The spirit-singer looked up from her boney friend and spoke urgently. “You guys h-heard her too, right?” Both Constanze and Amanda nodded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… somethin’ about protecting you.” Said the latter. The former merely grunted and nodded in agreement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ohhh….” Lotte looked back down to Malitrix before pulling the skull close. “This is exactly what I was afraid of though!” She paused to consider her words. “Ok, maybe not </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span>, b-but, I mean, I didn’t wanna be a burden and need protecting. I want to be able to stand alone like you guys do!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We don’t stand alone.” Constanze confidently asserted. “Talked about it last night with Amanda. Same goes for you. We’re a team. Luna Nova works together or it falls apart. Witches stick together or we disappear.” She flew closer so that she could grip Lotte’s forearm in a show of comradery. “We </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> stand alone.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte tensed at the touch, but allowed it to remain until Constanze pulled away of her own accord. Lotte opened her mouth to speak, though no words came. She didn’t have any immediate thoughts to respond with, only the desire to respond in general. Luckily for her, Malitrixs’ eyes lit up again and flashed once to signal her continued existence. A final whisper came from her, one that sent shivers up all their spines, but one that comforted Lotte in a strangely chilling way. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Trust…. Me…. Trust…. You….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> With the final note delivered, Malitrix resorted back to pure flashes for communication; her power to communicate, for the moment, having been spent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Trust me….” Lotte echoed the words wistfully, earning a singular blink in response from Malitrix, as if to encourage her to take the message to heart. “I… I do trust you guys….” She just wished that she wasn’t the plain, boring old Lotte that she assumed everyone knew. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And we trust you too, Lotte.” Amanda flashed a confident grin, a truly confident grin, toward her downtrodden friend. “You ain’t gotta prove anything to us. Just being along for the ride is all you need to be for us to know you’re our friend, and that you got our back.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.” Constanze raised a singular thumb up, echoing Amanda’s sentiment. Lotte felt like she should smile, and so she did, but it was as fake as ever. She hid her fakeness by looking down as she re-attached Malitrix to her hook. When she raised her expression up again, the sisters found her still a bit sullen, but not abnormally so. She had clearly said her piece, and now it was time for them to continue. Constanze gestured northward with a cock of her head.  “Should keep moving. Fly and talk.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right behind you sis, lead on!” Amanda’s words spurred Constanze onward, and she followed close behind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“R-Right….” Lotte was slow to join them, but caught up eventually, taking up her old position in the formation, behind Constanze and opposite Amanda. “Sorry to….” She began to  mutter, her words failing to reach any ears but her own, only to stop herself before she said anything more. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“This isn’t about me. Just… stop.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her inner voice seemed dejected, or perhaps defeated, and while she left the subject behind outside of her mind, a lingering thought would haunt her for some time to come, nagging her from the depths of her subconscious: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s not about me trying to prove something to you,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lotte’s eyes slowly scanned the space between Amanda and Constanze, lingering on each of the sisters for a moment before alternating. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m trying to prove something to myself….”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thought would be cast down then once Constanze started speaking; something had been bothering her too. It wasn’t as serious or personal as Lotte’s turmoil, but it was of note, especially after Gerbera gave her that necklace. “Lotte.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?” Upon hearing her name being called after a minute or so of silence, she snapped to attention and let the inner conflict sink into the psychological ooze to be unearthed at a later date. “W-What now?” She didn’t mean to sound dismissive, but tensions were high for her after her bit of rambling, and she needed more time to unwind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze took note of the unintended hostility, but knew Lotte well enough to know she wasn’t trying to be rude; at least she hoped she wasn’t. “You want to feel useful. I know this probably isn’t important, but I have a job for you.” Constanze’s hand drifted to her pocket and pulled out the silver-hammered-necklace gifted to her by Gerbera. “Important right now at least. Might be the most important thing later.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why would it be important later, but not now?” Lotte cocked her head curiously. She wondered why Constanze brought out the necklace for this topic. She was quick to remove it earlier, and seemed almost scared of it, but Lotte didn’t want to poke her as to why. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze took a deep breath as she looked down at the silver charm in her palm. It was so very cold to the touch, no doubt due to their height in the air. “It’s a mystery. No one we know is better at solving them than you.” Amanda had a sneaking suspicion about what this was about, but kept quiet. She had little to add on the matter immediately. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte smiled softly. “Ah…. Of course.” She said in an almost disappointed way, failing to realize how she’d be recognized for uniqueness. “What’s it about?” Lotte seemed glad though, at least because it brought them away from the previous topic somewhat. And, in a sense, it did give Lotte some sense of importance and belonging, which </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> what she craved, after all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s about Woodward.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-Woodward? What does she have to do with all of this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda would have rolled her eyes in an “I-told-you-so” manner to herself, but she found herself doing a double take at Constanze. “Wait, so are you trying to say that Donar’s Oak place had something to do with Woodward?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Exactly.” Before Lotte posed the obvious question, Constanze continued. “When we were at the bridge. Gerbera told us the history. I forget most of it, but I remember his description. About the woman who fell from the clouds.” Constanze opened her palm and examined the silver hammer and triskel warrily. “I’m certain that was Woodward. It has to be.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte was silent and unmoving for a few moments. It took time for her brain to put it together, but Constanze was absolutely right. Or at least, it made too much sense. The way the being looked as portrayed by the mural in the oak and the way Gerbera created the puppet, the fact that she planted a great oak, it all kind of fit the motif of the witch Akko described. “Oh…. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ohhh….</span>
  </em>
  <span>” This got Lotte’s mind racing; about any number of things. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damn. Seriously?” Amanda seemed much less impacted by this than either of the other two. “Kinda cool and kinda weird if true, but there’s gotta be more to it than that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There is.” Constanze nodded. “But I don’t know what. I’m just tired of the secrecy. Don’t think they meant to be vague. It’s their legend. But Vaal, Jehanne. They knew things. Too many red flags. The plant, the sanctum, Akko’s experience, and now this. It’s all connected. I know it.” That gnawing in her gut told her so. “And if anyone’s going to put it all together, it’d be Lotte.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte hummed inquisitive, wringing her hands around her broomstick as she thought. “I don’t know everything you’re talking about, but it does seem a bit weird…. I mean, not terribly weird, but—Wait, Conz, is that why you had to leave that night?” Constanze hesitantly nodded. She wouldn’t lie about how uneasy all of this made her feel. “But why? Isn’t Woodward someone we should trust?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda siucked in a sharp air. “Man…. After everything we’ve been through…. Ok, I can’t say we shouldn’t trust the Nine, because we </span>
  <em>
    <span>totally</span>
  </em>
  <span> agreed to take up their stupid legacies or whatever, but—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, you did what!?” Lotte had been woefully uninformed about a certain meeting of minds within the Balefire’s flame. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh lord, ok, long story short: Vaal wants Constanze to rebuild the Balefire order halls and Jehanne…. She wants me to… I guess fight in the order’s name, or something.” It’s not like Jehanne gave her an instruction manual on how to “keep the flame alive” as it were. “Anyways, yeah they’re a bit weird and olde and what you’d expect out of ancient witches, but Woodward, tch, she’s…. I dunno. Like, we have a read on Vaal and Jehanne. They seem chill enough to be trusted, but the others? Who knows if we can trust ‘em or not.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Even Beatrix?” Lotte queried. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhh…. Who?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte facepalmed. “Diana’s ancestor? You know? The whole reason she’s a noble, sort of, and has this aura of prestige?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Amanda scratched her chin. “I ain’t gonna lie, I thought she was just a bougie bitch.” Constanze glanced to give Amanda the most dumbfounded stink eye. “What!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Said it before. Saying it again: You’re hopeless sometimes, schwester.” With that, Constanze looked forward again. She really couldn’t believe Amanda sometimes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Honestly, I feel like Akko has a better memory than her….” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anyways!” Amanda exclaimed with slight annoyance. “Maybe we </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> trust her, but as far as I’m concerned, until she comes down from… or up to…. Until she shows herself, then I don’t really care if she’s Diana’s ancestor or not. Bloodlines don’t mean shit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Caution never hurt, I guess….” Lotte sighed. “So what do you want me to do about all of this, Constanze? I don’t doubt that this has some sort of link together, but I don’t really have much evidence to work off of.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze looked down at the necklace one final time before tossing it back to Lotte with a telekinetic spell. “Take it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eh!?” Lotte ducked instinctively, thinking it would smack her in the face, only to peak out from her hunched position to breathe a sigh of relief. “Y-You could warn me next time!” She snatched the necklace out of the air and pocketed it despite her protests.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.” Constanze gripped her broom tight now that she had both hands free. “I’ll tell you about the details another time. Like I said: Not important now….” She trailed off as the words rang in her head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“But it might mean everything later.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Almost all of Constanze hoped that such wasn’t the case though. For reasons she may never be able to explain, the idea that some grander scheme or plot was in effect terrified her. That terror, while hidden beneath the skin, wasn’t absent in Lotte or Amanda. Both didn’t like the notion Constanze was putting in their minds; that something far larger and complex was at work. They had no need to ask anymore about why Constanze seemed so upset by it, for the existentially nagging bug had bitten them too. At the very least, both were content with the fact that theirs was only an itch, like the feeling one gets when they remember that they are mortal, and that they are small, and that they will likely be forgotten; a passing dread that fades in a few minutes, but crushes you while it’s there. Constanze however felt like it was always haunting her, because she looked at things just a bit differently when compared to Amanda and Lotte. She saw the events lining up as parts of a formula. One event clearly led to another, but obvious gaps seemed to imply a great theorem where a less mathematically and logically wired witch might only suspect simpler explanations. All because of one concept, one word that would no doubt rear itself again and again, even long after the Bathorys were dead and gone should the day be won: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Convenient.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Several hours later….</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ludinghal was no better than when Constanze first saw it. The triumvirate had circumnavigated the town and found it to be something more akin to a military compound. It wasn’t buzzing with soldiers per say, but there were barbed wire fences, a few armored vehicles, watch towers, and several patrols all running at once around the eight or soul mile perimeter that had been set up to “contain” the site. Night had fallen, or at least, it was just about to be upon them. Now would be the time to begin their infiltration, as shifts changed, darkness settled, and plans were settled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda, Constanze, and Lotte had seen all of the useful bits that they could gather from afar, and so they ventured closer, beginning their run. They flew over the outermost fence and darted across the snowy plain that separated the first barrier from the forest. Quiet Phos spells saw them speed along, making their stay out in the open as brief as possible. The trio came to a screeching halt once they reached the woods, and were quick to ditch their brooms in favor of the ground. Constanze’s magic softened their landing, summoning up a heap of snow to catch their fall. Each of them slipped into the orb of frost like a glove, disappearing beneath the white before eventually forcing their way out after some struggle. Amanda got them all warmed up after a short reprieve before as they ducked behind a set of downed trees and decaying shrubs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok…. First hurdle cleared.” Lotte was of course the most anxious of the three. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Honestly, that was so easy that I’d be mad if we didn’t make it.” Cocky as ever, Amanda tried to keep their spirits high. Constanze refocused her sister with a silent gesture of the hand, pointing forward. Another fence, one which was taller and dotted by a watch tower every quarter of a mile, barred their path. All that did though was make Amanda smirk. “We’re stickin’ to the plan, right?” Lotte and Constanze nodded. “Then this should be</span>
  <em>
    <span> easier</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” She drew her wand and twirled it twice. From her crouched position, she scooted to the edge of their cover and aimed her wand at the watch tower that was dead ahead of them, about fifty yards away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was manned by two soldiers, One kept an eye out and their weapon ready while the other manned a small searchlight. They were dressed in heavy, grey winter gear,  sporting obfuscating cloth to cover all from the eyes down, and armed to the teeth with box-drum rifles. No patch marked their direct affiliations, though a simple German flag on the right shoulder designated them as ones who served the German government in some sort of fashion. Constanze, having been the one to spot this line of defence from afar during their planning phase, was keen to notice that the spotlights all appeared to have a singular, thick orange wire dangling down to a spot at the tower’s base, connecting to a black box. She deduced that each of them was powered by individual batteries that were kept at each station. The battery was Amanda’s target:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Teslaralura!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The whispered incant summoned a spark-ball, a tiny sort of essence of electricity that Amanda could manipulate freely. With a steady hand and guiding words, she led the orb away from her position and on toward the tower. It ducked and zipped and zapped from bush to tree, evading the soldiers’ gazes. Then, once close enough, it shot out as a thunderbolt and struck the battery dead on. It may have been small, but it didn’t take alot to short out a battery. The searchlight flickered off as the battery sputtered and sparked. The soldiers on top of the tower turned to each other confusedly before the watcher thumbed for his comrade to go and see what was wrong. A short exchange of words seemed to occur, a minor argument perhaps, at least that’s what Constanze thought of it based on the body language. Eventually, one of the soldiers seemed to “win” the argument as the other was forced to go down and fix the battery, or at least figure out what fried it. They seemed none-too-suspect of the fact that it may have been foul play at work; Amanda’s plan had gone perfectly. “Alright, follow me!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Being the roguish witch of the New Nine, Amanda took point in the following approach. The trio held their brooms close, kept low, and only moved when Amanda gave the word to. They ducked and dived from cover to cover, behind tree and into shadows as the attention of the guards shifted and waned. Once they got closer, Constanze could actually make out what some of the guards were saying. She raised a hand to give Amanda pause before they got any closer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“—ganze Sache ist gebraten!” The lower soldier yelled, sounding like a German native. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Was meinst du damit, es ist gebraten? Hat etwas am Kabel gekaut?” The tower-side soldier leaned over lazily, his arms crossed and leaning against the railing. His accent was Namibian.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ich meine, es ist verdammt gebraten!” The snow-side soldier was clearly losing his patience and threw the hatch to the interior of the battery closed before wiping his covered face. The tower-side soldier seemed to say something to himself and throw his arms up in defeat before beginning to clamber down the latter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze snapped as soon as she saw that they had their opening. “They’re busy! Schnell!” Amanda didn’t need to be told twice. This wasn’t exactly her first rodeo, but it was her first break-in to a military compound, if this counted as such. She, Lotte, and Constanze all mounted up on their brooms, soared high up, but not </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> high, for they had seen several helicopters making rounds every now and then, and Constanze had a terrible feeling that spotters on nearby hills were keeping eyes on the sky given the people they were likely most afraid of entering were witches. They’d rather be safe than sorry, so they stayed below the treeline, easily clearing the second fence before diving back down to the safety of the shaded ground-levels once they were far enough away from the tower to be certain that they wouldn’t be heard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Two down.” Constanze drly remarked as her boots crunched against the snow. “Sitrep. What’s ahead?” The forest had been too thick to determine the defences from this point on. Maybe they were in the clear, or maybe they were in a minefield. It was anyone’s guess. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda still didn't seem all too phased. She felt pretty confident in the plans they’d laid out, even if it was all shot-in-the-dark from here on out. “Lotte! You’re up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Finnish witch had hidden behind a large tree, and she ran her hands along hesitantly. “A-Are you sure this is a good idea?” Lotte wasn’t the most confident in her ability to sing to </span>
  <em>
    <span>these</span>
  </em>
  <span> kinds of spirits. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We trust you.” Constanze assured, speaking for Malitrix as well, for she could only blink once in agreement as she dangled from Lotte’s upright broom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok…. Here goes.” Lotte cleared her throat and stepped away from the tree to fully examine it in scope. It was old, and had likely been alive for longer than any of their parents. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“This one should do.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Satisfied with her choice, Lotte began to hum the tune to a Song of Awakening, the means by which spirit-singers made contact with the spectral. “Hmmm hmmm hmm hmm hmmmmmm hmmm hmmm….” Her humming quickly became choral singing, sounding the tune with her voice alone as little wisps began to emerge from the frosted soil. The wispy forms took shape and color from all spectrums of the rainbow. Their bodies morphed to become notes and instruments until they formed a small, playerless band that consisted of self-strung violins, dancing flutes, and a piano manned by a musician unseen. With the instrumental elements of the song in full effect, Lotte took her role as the vocalist. From her lips came words of power, words of love, tender and kind, like the brush of daisies on a cold, forlorn cheek; words of awakening:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Awaken now oh sleeping souls,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your time has come to sing anew, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tell me your wonders, tell me your woes, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Come carry that weight with me…. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Together we meet, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Two dreams joined, complete, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Rise and be released....”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A short few notes later saw the spirit-band dissipate into dust and sparkle. Silence followed, and then, the bark bristled. Twigs twisted. Branches buckled. The great, leafless tree before them stirred after ages of motionless slumber. The patternless, mundane edifice of knots and creases in the wood became features: A face had formed! With cracking crunches and mawing movement, a mouth formed toward the base of the tree, revealing not a stump, but an infinite darkness from which the moaning and primordial voice of the tree was let loose. </span>
  <b>“Mmmmmmrrrrooooooooaaaaaaaa….”</b>
  <span> Lotte’s song had given life and voice to that which went unheard; the tree’s spirit, in all it’s patient wisdom, had awoken.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda and Constanze, having only seen Lotte sing to smaller objects, hadn’t ever heard Lotte speak the words to her song. They knew the tune well, for she could be found humming it to smaller spirits all the time back at Luna Nova. This was something on another level though. “Damn.” They both remarked, impressed by the power the song seemed to hold. A very soft clapping motion from the sisters showed their approval. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the tree gained its senses, Lotte turned her head, smiled bashfully, and curtsied an invisible skirt given she was wearing pants. Just then, the tree spoke again, it’s words taking on the sounds of groans, creaks, and yawns, at least to the uninitiated. To Lotte, a spirit-singer, its words were as clear as day: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“Whyyyyyy…. Do… you…. Stirrrrr...? Sprriiiiing…. Is… not yet…. Here….” </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte shot her gaze back to the tree and cleared her throat, mustering a serious expression. “Mr. Tree, I’m sorry for disturbing you, but we need your help!” Her urgency was muted, if only to not create more sound that distant patrols might catch wind of. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The great tree smacked its “lips” twice, cracking a few pieces of bark in the process. </span>
  <b>“Arrraaaghgmmm…. Help…. For whooooooom?” </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My name is Lotte, Lotte Jansson, and these are my friends, Constanze and Amanda.” Lotte gestured to each in kind. “Constanze used to live in the town nearby.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“Luuuuuuding…. Haaaaaaal….” </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes! And we need to get there, but we can’t get caught by the soldiers walking around the woods. We just want to know if you could show us a safe path to Ludinghal.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“Ash…. Remains….” </b>
  <span>The Tree swiveled a few degrees to regard Constanze with a mournful, pitying expression, one of exaggerated brows and a painfully curved mouth. </span>
  <b>“Return…. Not…. Leave aaaaand… forget…. This plaaaaaaace….” </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze lacked any understanding of what she was told, but she had a rough idea that the tree spirit was grieving with, or for her. Lotte reluctantly translated the tree’s words. “He’s saying we should leave…. Only ash remains.” She bit her lower lip, anxiously awaiting a response from the otherwise silent witch-smith. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze was, understandably, both unsurprised and struck with grief. That same sucker-punch feeling from the cafeteria on that fateful morning made her just as uneasy now as it did before. Outwardly however, Constanze had much greater control of her expression and action. She had grown a great deal, and while she was hardly on-top of all of her emotions, grief over what had occured was one of the few she felt to have truly mastered. “I know.” She eventually said. “Have to go. Lives at stake. My other family….” She paused and instinctively reached out to grab Amanda’s hand, squeezing it for support as she continued. “Need to save them. Need to say a few words and… come to terms with things. It’s complicated. We need you to trust us.” The tree groaned a sort of hum, one of sorrowful contemplation. Constanze urged it along. “I chose to come here. I need this…. I hope you understand.” Amanda squeezed Constanze’s hand back then, stepping closer and silently looking down on her sister with an encouraging nod. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tree shook back and forth in a slow, brooding nod. </span>
  <b>“Very…. Well.... You… haaaaaave… been warnnnnnned….” </b>
  <span>Reluctantly, its roots began to snake up from the snow and began to trace a path further north, on toward Ludinghal. It took seemingly random twists and turns, but Lotte knew to follow them. She had spoken with trees seldom in the past, but on said occasions, she gleaned the knowledge that they were connected beings, ones that shared knowledge in accordance to the forest they were a part of. Thus, if one tree knew something, they </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> knew it so long as their roots could intermingle and pass along the whispers of the earth. This particular tree would lead them along a path that would steer them clear of patrols, at least until they reached the forest's edge and arrived in the likely ruined farms that surrounded the outskirts of Ludinghal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on guys! Let's go!” Lotte took point this time, and neither sister thought twice about following her, so they ran hand in hand, for Constanze couldn’t bear to let go right then and there. Too much emotion, unidentifiable, but certainly uncomfortable, was welling up in her gut, and they hadn’t even made it into town yet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Maybe it’ll be easier once we’re there.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Reasoned Constanze. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Like Uncle Jo always said….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She sniffled between the steady pants necessitated by her run so that she could keep pace with the roots. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s the anticipation that kills you…. Everything that seems scary always ends up feeling a lot easier once you’re in the middle of it.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On and on the trio ran. Over bush and bough, root and rock, the tree lead them safely through the woods. It took them about twenty minutes to cross the full distance of the forest and reach its edge, and only then did they realize that they hadn’t seen any signs of natural life outside of the dead winter plants. It was as if the forest’s wildlife population had been hunted to silent extinction. The silence was deafening, and maddening in a way, and it didn’t improve much once they reached the ruined fields of farms that would never know another harvest. The tendril of the tree that had been leading them came to a halt, it turned, waved, and then shrank back into the woods, leaving them with the darkness of the moonlit forest behind them, and the barren wasteland of the farms ahead of them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Each of the witches looked on morbidly at the vista before them. They couldn’t yet see Ludinghjal proper, for a sloping hill blocked their view, but the sight of the desiccated farm house served as enough of a warning. Constanze stepped forward out of the treeline’s shade, unknowingly and unthinkingly. She was drawn toward that home, not because it was familiar in any way, but because it was on the absolute edges of the destruction, and yet it still looked ravaged. The foundation yet lay intact, and the general shape of the home also remained, but every window was shattered, the doors were broken in, and one wall on the west side had been crashed open by what must have been a creature of at least fourteen feet in height, and ten in width; an eighteen wheel truck may as well have plowed through it. It wasn't a gorey sight, nor was it grizzly, just </span>
  <em>
    <span>harrowing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. There was no red tape, no guards stationed, no attention given, and no blood to be spotted. Just death. Death in a purely implied form. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda had to step out and firmly grasp Constanze by the shoulder in order to stop her from stepping any closer to the home. “Careful sis…. We don’t know if it’s safe from here on out.” Constanze froze up and slowly nodded once she processed the words. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know….” A long, tense, sharp breath precipitated her forced speech. “W-We’re about ten minutes out. We’ll be on the main road to town then. Pass a-a few stores. Gas station, a bar….” The bar her father often frequented, to her dismay. “T-Then we’ll be there. Might… t-take me a bit to find the exact route, but—” Constanze was interrupted by an arm wrapped about her shoulders from the side. Amanda held her close, but not too close. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll be here as long as it takes. It’s your home, we go at your pace, ok?” Amanda may have known they were under extreme pressure already, pressure they normally couldn’t afford to ignore, but she also knew that right now, Constanze needed to be free of that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Constanze nodded slowly in agreement, prompting Amanda to let her go. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Just keep breathing, Constanze. Just keep breathing.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>And so she did: In and out. In and out. Her stuttering faded. The knot in her gut unwound a little bit, if only for now, but it allowed her to walk with more purpose in her stride. “Mmm mm.” She grunted and signaled for Lotte and Amanda to follow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The trio walked through dead fields as cautiously as they could. Being out in the open like that did none of them any favors in the anxiety department, but Constanze was able to assure them that they’d be within the town itself soon. Even if it was nothing but burnt buildings, there’d be plenty of cover to move between, and Constanze seemed confident enough that the soldiers, whoever they were, wouldn’t be heavily concentrated out here, calling it a “security blindspot.” Neither Lotte nor Amanda thought to question it at the time; the answer would come to them shortly anyway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite her assessment though, Constanze and company quickly found themselves frozen in place as words from afar hit their ears. A conversation was happening just over the hill they were about to cross, and the sound was getting closer. Mercifully, the hill was uneven, and had a few natural, crater-like dips that would allow for safe hiding. Amanda pointed them out silently before all three of them made a run for it. Amanda deftly slid into the ditch while Constanze hopped down, and Lotte tripped, only to be caught by the formermost witch, preventing a loud thud from being heard. Amanda leered at Lotte, silently rebuking her for her clumsiness. She earned a look of annoyance from Lotte in response, saying something akin to: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Well it’s not like it’s easy to run through snow and ice on a steep hill!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>And Amanda couldn’t exactly argue with that, but right and wrong were beside the point, especially as the words became louder. Constanze urged them to shush, despite the minimal noise they were making, and kept an ear out for what was being said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two voices, distinct in their tone and accent, both speaking German, preceded the arrival of two at-ease soldiers as they crossed over the hilltop not far from the group. Luckily for them, they didn’t even need to cast any spells to hide themselves further, for the two men were caught up in conversation, likely on their way to relieve one of the current patrol groups. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Könnten diese Labore Ihre Forschungsanlage nicht irgendwo vernünftig bauen? Ich friere mir hier den Arsch ab, und die Zelte haben kaum eine richtige Isolierung.” Said the first soldier, who tried and failed at least four times to light up a cigarette. He sounded roughly Eastern European, Belarusian most likely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Labcoats…? Research facility?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Did Constanze hear that right?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wenn Sie dem sergeant nicht klug gegenüberstanden, würden wir nicht wieder für einen Außenposten zugeteilt.” The second soldier seemed much more annoyed by their freezing predicament than the first, or maybe his German was just too awkward. He clearly didn’t speak the language as a first or second choice. He sounded almost American, or maybe Canadian trying to correctly intonate the language. “Nicht, dass ich mit diesen freaks im selben Raum sein möchte. Sie sind Gruseliger als einige der Monster.” They passed by nonchalantly, their boots crunching in steady rhythms, ones which Constanze had to block out so she could focus on their conversation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ist das nicht Bullschit? Wir sind diejenigen, die alle neugierigen Idioten davon abhalten, herumzuschnüffeln, und doch ist das Forschungsteam derjenige, der den beheizten Arbeitsplatz hat.” Finally the first soldier’s lighter clicked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ich bin mir ziemlich sicher, dass Sie auch mehr bezahlt werden.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first soldier shook his head. “Wie viele zahlen macht der italienische Arzt? Fünf? Sechs? Nur für einen job?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ich habe gehört, dass er ständig mit Speerspitze unterschrieben hat.” Their voices grew faint as they themselves grew more distant from the hidden witches. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Speartip...? Speartip Security?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze had heard that name before in passing. One of the news reports she’d heard mentioned them.  </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ich Wirklich jetzt?” The first soldier paused to take a drag of his cigarette. “Sie müssen dann ein paar große Projekte für ihn aufstellen.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mit wie wilden Augen er aussah, ich glaube, es ist eher so, als hätte er Projekte für uns aufgestellt.” The Polish soldier seemed unsettled with how regarded this Italian researcher. Something about the man they referred to wasn’t scary, more… unhinged, detached even, in the most clinical manner. Those were the last of their audible sentiments, and while part of Constanze wanted to follow and gather more information, she had a terrible feeling that the sight of her ruined home would reveal all she needed to know. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What did they say?” Lotte whispered as she peaked her eyes over the lip of the hole. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Something… about a research facility…. Speartip Security….” Constanze slowly brought a hand to her mouth, blowing into it for warm, only to leave it stuck there in realization. The soldier’s sentiment on the cold; why did they have to build a research facility </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“No way.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze had to disprove it with her own eyes. She darted out from the ditch, scrambling up the snowy walls faster than Lotte or Amanda could react. Both reached to stop her, hissing their concerns and need for stealth, only to fall flat against the banks of the hill. Soon they too were climbing up at a frenzied pace, but when they reached the top of the incline, they found Constanze staring out over the town with horror and confusion in her eyes. She did not breathe, nor did she speak. The sight of Ludinghal, what had become of it, took all of her immediate strength away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda and Lotte wiped themselves down of snow and tried to get a hold of their dumbstruck friend only to catch sight of what terrified her. They too fell silent, listless, and filled with dread. “Ho-lee-shit….” The explicative escaped Amanda’s lips unintentionally, but the reaction was apt. Before them was Ludinghal, or rather, the encampment that now was built upon Ludinghal. It was, as the soldiers loosely described, a research facility, it’s means and purpose unknown to the three trespassing witches, but its size spoke to something of high, maybe even sinister importance. Within the center of town stood a series of quickly erectable and collapsable buildings made from simple, but finely cut sheets of metal and plastic. Tents were scattered about in between the structures beside piles of secured crates both wood and metal, illuminated all by high intensity fluorescent lights and construction lamps. The camp itself was a work in progress, demonstrated by the clearly unfinished foundations that now occupied the space where houses and buildings from old Ludinghal used to stand. Based on their view, about twenty five percent of the Ludinghal had been converted into a military facility of dubious intent. What spoke to an even deeper fear in Constanze were the unmistakable signs of a digsite. Cranes, buildozers, industrial tunneling gear; the works. The hole they were no doubt digging remained elusive, but Constanze had ideas. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In fact Constanze was bursting with ideas and emotions. She hardly knew how to comprehend it all, and that was just from a cursory glance. On closer inspection, Constanze and company spotted heavily armored vehicles, trucks, APCs, a tank or two, parked around the exterior in a motor pool on the northernmost side of the heavily patrolled compound. Vibrantly orange jackets marked construction workers while the vague shapes of soldiers could be seen patrolling everywhere within the central locale, and no doubt spoke to a larger presence throughout the suburban landscape. On a rare occasion, a hazmat or lab-coated individual, sometimes sporting winter gear in the form of secondary jackets and ushankas, would exit one of the many buildings and make their way over to another. Sometimes they wheeled along carts carrying what must have been body bags, or at least containers that carried things not meant to be exposed to the elements, or to the unauthorized eye. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze couldn’t even begin to process what they should do. The rage, hate, and malice within her, that which she initially reserved and felt only for Nikolai, began to intrude on her thoughts. She wanted these soldiers, these people, whoever they were, to drop dead. They’d come to her home, the “grave” of those she knew as a child, and defiled it. Paradoxically, a part of her that couldn’t believe what she was seeing begged reality to tell her that these soldiers and researchers were here for a good reason; a </span>
  <em>
    <span>genuinely</span>
  </em>
  <span> good reason. The more she tried to think on that though, the more she realized that there could be no genuinely good reason for their presence. Quarantining of a site was one thing. Magic was strange to the mundane governments, or perhaps it was distrusted more so than it was on the streets, but at least it made sense to ensure that no one foolish or nefarious came stumbling into the ruins of Ludinghal after the attack. What if any of the monsters remained? What if a curse had been placed on the land itself? What if the lingering magic was so potent here as to bring about disease, mutation, or worse? But this? This was nothing short of exploitation, and Constanze could only begin to imagine just how deep these foul roots were being dug. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It took the deafening noise of a low flying helicopter to awaken the group from their stupor. They all dove to the ground instinctively, and with a wave of Constanze and Lotte’s wands, they covered themselves in snow while the searchlight passed over them. Once the threat had gone, all three of them burst up and duck behind the hill once more and caught their breath. “Ok…. So…. Any ideas?” This was well and away from what Amanda expected. At worst, she thought they may be dealing with an active cleanup crew, which meant there’d be a lot of personnel on site. This was much, </span>
  <em>
    <span>much</span>
  </em>
  <span> worse. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-W-We… we should leave! Now!” Lotte had the right idea, by conventional logic at least. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We can’t.” But Constanze had long since abandoned her conventional logic. Conventional logic wouldn’t have led her here, and conventional logic wasn’t cutting it when it came to besting her swirling emotions and nightmarishing thoughts. That wasn’t to say she wasn’t absolutely mortified of the reality they now faced. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We could get shot!” Lotte cried. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y-Yeah, sis, I’m being real with you when I say that this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>a little</span>
  </em>
  <span> bit above what I’m comfortable with.” Amanda pinched her left thumb and pointer finger together to accentuate her point. “It’s one thing to sneak into what’s basically magical Chernobyl, it’s another to sneak into Fort-Fucking Knox!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze ruminated direly. She held a clenched fist sideways to her face, right up against her nose, her expression scrunched up in emotional anguish. “We can’t! We have to go in there! No other way!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bullshit! There’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> another way!” Amanda peered over the lip of the hill and wiped the lower half of her face. She could still hardly believe what she saw. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I know this means alot to you, Constanze, but it’s not worth dying for! There’s too much at risk!” Were Lotte a less dedicated and honest witch, she would have taken to her broom already. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We won’t die!” Constanze snapped, shooting Lotte an unintentionally fierce look. As she saw fear and tears begin to overtake Lotte, she too began to let her anger crumble to sorrow. “We can’t…. We… we’ll be fine! My parents…. We… we lived on the edge of town!” Constanze joined Amanda in scouting, rubbing her eyes clear of any reflexive tears to hone her vision in on the vista. In time, she found it: Her home, unruined from the first floor down. The second floor was </span>
  <em>
    <span>gone</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but at least the foundation remained, and so too did the attached forge. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“There…. And what about…?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sure enough, Uncle Jo and Aunt Gertand’s home still stood, albeit in far worse condition, not far down the road from Constanze’s home. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Still there….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze couldn’t muster to speak anymore without descending into yells and stuttering, so she resorted to her notepad. WIth a yank, Constanze brought Amanda’s attention away from the town and onto her note. It was hastily written, so much so that a bit of the page was ripped where Constanze’s pen tore into it. “I see my house. South-East side. Not far. Shouldn’t be as dangerous. We get in, we get out. Agreed?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte clearly showed the most objection to this plan. She’d gotten a hold of herself after a moment of being near a nervous breakdown, but she was hardly calm. “Why can’t we just take the video here!? We’ve seen enough! We… we don’t need to go down there for the video! And… and….” Lotte stopped herself from saying something wholly insensitive, but the desire was there. “Just how are we going to stay safe!? If you’re going to make me do this then, then you… then you to </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>make sure we’re going to make it out alright!” Her voice cracked into higher pitch amidst her manic delivery. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda widened her eyes. Lotte rarely swore, and she rarely swore so passionately, so emotionally, and that was a bad sign in of itself. Before Amanda herself could even interject or begin to formulate a plan, Constanze was fiercely writing a retort to Lotte. It read: “No one forced you to do ANY of this.” The word “any” was underlined thrice, only for the page to be torn on the second line. Constanze was beyond furious. “We gave you a thousand chances to stay behind and you came along. You said you wanted to do this. You said you were going to stay with us. Don’t be a fucking coward.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte was stunned, incredulously glaring at the words on the paper. That last remark set her off. She smacked the notepad that Constanze rudely held in her face. “I am NOT a coward!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“GUYS!” Amanda didn’t want to yell, for obvious reasons, but this was getting out of hand. She slid in between the two and forced them apart with her arms. All three of them fell silent, save for the heavy breathing from all parties. Finally, after a few moments of wandering stares and tense consideration, Amanda spoke. “You guys fighting here and now is</span>
  <em>
    <span> going to get us killed</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Lotte,” She turned to face the Finnish witch first. Lotte looked ashamed and sad, hurt even. “First off, we </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>give you plenty of chances to back out. We knew it could be pretty bad. Don’t yell at Conz for not warning you about it when we totally fucking did! Ok?” Lotte slowly turned her head down. She nodded twice and sniffled. “And sis,” Amanda turned to Constanze next. She looked far more uncompromise, unapologetic even. Emotion had well and truly taken hold of her thought processes. “Four words from the heart: You’re being a bitch!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you.” Constanze spat venom as she pushed Amanda’s arm aside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No, </span>
  </em>
  <span>fuck you!” Amanda adopted a semi-disgusted look, as if to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Really? You’re going to do this?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her tone matched it, though it certainly came from a place of love rather than spite. “For one, Lotte’s got a point. This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>way</span>
  </em>
  <span> worse than what we expected. I know we came into this knowing it’d be bad, but… but look, you’re a numbers girl, right? What are the fucking odds that we get out of this totally unseen and unscathed? Huh?” Constanze found herself unable to answer the question. At first it was because her brain couldn’t even do basic math right now, let alone hypothetical math, but also because when she did start factoring in all of the possibilities and contingencies, she saw a momentous deck stacked against them. Her silence was enough for Amanda to know that it was bad odds. “Secondly, just because Lotte’s fucking scared doesn’t mean you get to disregard her. We’re a team right? We don’t just ignore each other’s concerns. That’s how we get separated, and that’s how we make mistakes, right?” Again, Constanze wouldn’t answer because to do so would be to submerge herself in a tar-pit of shame. Her floodgates wouldn't hold forever though. “Finally, before you even try and get mad at me again for trying to keep you on the straight and narrow, why don’t you remember what you asked me to do back in Porthcurno. And at the gas station. And at Max’s shack, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>Donar’s Oak. What was it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze choked on something unspeakable. To define the emotion that was caught in her throat would be to miss the point. It was everything and nothing, a hairball of confused thoughts. She slowly reached for her notepad and wrote a meager response. “Keep me from losing myself.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and what the hell did you just do with Lotte?” Constanze knew the answer immediately. The regret that creeped onto her face spoke for her. Amanda continued. “Look: I wasn’t trying to be patronizing, but—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. I know.” Constanze murmured. “I…. Wasn’t thinking.” She resorted to her pad once again, burying herself behind it. Two words, written in large text, stained at one point by a fallen tear, were held up, obscuring Constanze’s face. “I’m sorry.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A nudge from Amanda signaled Lotte to look up. When she did, she appeared to resent the apology, having taken that “coward” jab more personally than she would have liked to. Despite that, she knew it was unreasonable to keep arguing further. Her expression softened into an uneasy, understanding from. “I’m sorry too…. B-But I was being honest. We need a plan if we’re going t-to actually do this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze slowly nodded. She flipped the page over and wrote her response, still keeping her face obscured, but also clearly wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “I know. Let’s take a minute to cool down. Then we plan. Then we move.” Lotte read the message a few times over before returning the nod. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda sighed with relief. “Yeah, let’s take a minute. Let’s take a minute and…” Amanda peered over the hill one final time before their planning began in earnest. “And let’s try not to die.” This would be one hell of a break in, that was for sure.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>About twenty minutes later….</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte wasn’t exactly the best illusionist Luna Nova had to offer. Frankly, she was barely even an illusionist in the definitional sense of the word. However, she, Constanze, and Amanda, all knew a singularly helpful spell, one that was complex and advanced, but one that could be cast in tandem with other witches in order to ease the load it had on the casters. They skulked through the ruins in plain sight, crouching, walking carefully, but otherwise unobscured. That is, only if one was close enough to pierce the veil of invisibility that hung over them in a small, five foot radius dome. It masked the presence of all living things who entered the radius, and so long as the group kept up their channelling, they’d remain hidden from the naked eye. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their heat signatures could still be detected, and their shoes left prints in the snow where they walked, so they did their best to stick to the sidewalks where the snow became slush, and to shuffle instead of “walk” in the truest sense, leaving indiscreet scraping indents rather than proper prints to be tracked. It wasn’t exactly the </span>
  <em>
    <span>best</span>
  </em>
  <span> of infiltration plans, but after some careful scouting, the team had deduced that Constanze’s initial assumption was right. Her neighborhood was mostly unguarded, and while not wholly empty, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>feasible</span>
  </em>
  <span> to sneak inside; not necessarily wise or safe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’d made good on their initial approach to the town. That was the easy part. Then came the issue of hopping the mercifully unbarbed fence. Again, that was simple enough. Once they were in the ruined town proper though, things got tense, and worse, they got </span>
  <em>
    <span>strange</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They saw areas marked off with different colored tape, whole groups of hazmat suited persons examining specific objects that demonstrated weird magical anomalies, and even a corpse of some unrecognizable monster being carted off. Maybe it could have been identified from a distance before, but the black tarp over it, and the mangled shape of the form beneath, left little to speculate on. None of them dared to speak of what they were seeing. Each of them had their thoughts, their theories, but they were all a bit too disturbing to comment on in the moment, and they needed to be quiet anyway. Their spell didn’t conceal their sounds. Luckily, in terms of direct contact, things had been mostly quiet, up until now:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The trio was in the south east side of town, or at least, based on the vague shapes and remnants of the buildings, that’s where Constanze thought they were. They were sneaking about the side of two town houses, in between the alley where the properties met, when Amanda suddenly froze. She caught wind of approaching footsteps, and raised her hand flat, a signal to stop. Once Constanze and Lotte had halted, Amanda peaked her head around the corner and saw, plain as day, three soldiers moving down the sidewalk right toward them. They’d enter the radius if the trio wasn’t careful. “We got company!” Amanda hissingly whispered the warning before urging them back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They shuffled on back, minding not to step on each other’s toes as they did so, and only halted when Constanze grunted. She had estimated the distance as they walked it, and signaled for them all to get low once they weren’t in danger of being discovered visually.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Speaking of sounds, the voices of the soldiers soon became clear. With the trio all hush, they could clearly hear what was being said, and surprisingly, even Lotte and Amanda began to understand it part way through: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ist das die... der....” The voice sounded british; a Yorkshire woman, Amanda guessed. “Oh for God’s sake do we really need to speak German the whole bloody time?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The footsteps came to a slow halt as the conversation got underway. A Russian sounding man retorted sharply in German, “Sie kennen unsere Arbeitsweise!” Then he spoke more softly in English. “I don’t care how much you butcher it, just try and keep in character. Even if that character of yours is an idiot.” The trio of soldiers stopped just in front of the townhouse that the witches were hiding beside, and so the softer bits of their conversation were still discernible. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda, Constanze, and Lotte all gave each other the most bewildered looks as the soldiers went on. The British sounding soldier scoffed. “Keep in character for who? The fucking ghosts? It’s just us out here! Isn’t that kinda the whole point of this operation!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The third soldier interjected. She sounded Brazilian. “Think of it as practice. Because otherwise, what’re you going to do if you get called in to control some of those riots? What if you get assigned to gate-control? If you break character then, you could put us all in deep merda!” Her critique was scathing, but it came with a bit of a sadistic chuckle at the end. “And don’t think for a second that the admin’s are gonna stick their necks out for someone who’s gonna be a liability for our image.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Englishwoman came into view of the alley, waving one hand up flippantly before resting them both on her hips. “Man, fuck the image! I came here to get paid and do my work, not run a PR campaign!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Take it up with Lang if you’ve got a problem.” The Russian retorted, stepped into view just the same to stand tall over the smaller, seemingly greener soldier. “Halten Sie sich an Ihre Befehle, wenn Sie im Dienst sind....” Then he turned and gestured lazily at the home that Amanda, Constanze, and Lotte were beside; the three witches held their breaths “Und ja, das ist das Haus.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The English soldier sighed and tried again to speak in German. “Und warum sind Sie... daran interessiert? Sieht…. Sieht für mich wie der rest aus.” As she spoke, the duo became a trio once more, and began to walk down alley in between the houses, right toward the currently unseen witches. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Such were the immediate thoughts of basically all three witches as they scuttled backwardly as quietly as possible, relying on the noise of conversation, darkness, and inattentiveness of the soldiers to mask their retreat. For every step the soldiers made, the hidden trio had to make three, just to be safe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The soldiers carried on their conversation as normal, looking around and up with some level of caution. “Jorji’s Truppe sagte, Sie hörten etwas seltsames im inneren, und hier wurde Pakulski zuletzt gesehen.” Said the Brazilian soldier as she readied her rifle, keeping it at ease horizontal to her chest. The other soldiers did the same. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In here!” Lotte whispered as softly, and loudly, as she could. She’d found a little alcove between a few garbage cans and a tiny shed that jutted out from the house; a sort of side-entrance to what seemed to be a ruined kitchen. Constanze and Amanda both ducked behind the barrels with her, collectively cupping their mouths shut with their hands in order to make as little noise as possible. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Glaubst du, etwas hat ihn erwischt? Pakulski, meine ich" Tensions rose on the soldier’s end too, but for different reasons. The Englishwoman seemed especially on edge now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Es ist möglich, aber deshalb sind wir hier.” Said the Brazilian. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sei still. Bleib scharf und flink. Du hast gesehen, wie schnell die Dinge auseinander gerissen sind. Und denken Sie daran, wir nehmen es lebendig, wenn wir können.” The Russian took charge of the squad, raising his weapon up and aiming loosely down the sights.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Englishwoman seemed perplexed, her brow curving down. “Uhh… Sie daran what?” She clearly didn’t understand that last part.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The squad lead sighed. “We’re taking it alive if we c—” His explanation was quickly interrupted by the English Soldier who recoiled in horror along with the Brazilian soldier. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“G-Gorsky!? What the fuck mate!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the—!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Russian soldier, or Gorsky, spun about and looked down at himself. He saw that his feet were gone, and when looking back, hge could only see half of shis shoulder. The rest was just… gone. He lurched forward to join his comrades  reflexively and aimed his weapon where the dome of invisibility began, though of course, none of them could tell it existed. Each of them breathed heavily, but slowly began to calm down once they examined Gorsky and found him to be alright. Gorsky himself wiped his face and clicked a button on the walkie-talkie strapped to his combat-vest. “Command this is team three, Sgt. Gorsky speaking, we’ve got a possible extra-spatial or dimensional altering anomaly at…. Briggs, give me a street name.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Englishwoman, Briggs, peered down the road. “Mot… Motzstr Street, house twenty five.” Gorsky repeated the address and paused, awaiting a response. The command from the radio was too soft for any of the witches to hear, and so they clenched their fists and curled their toes in terrible dread. If the soldiers investigated too closely, they’d surely find the three interlopers. A few moments passed, then another quiet radio call came in. Gorsky nodded. “Alright, we’re falling back.” Then he turned to his squadmates and signaled for them to follow as he briskly jogged down the street. “They're bringing in the tech-specs and hazmats. We’re returning to base to….” Soon, his words and their footsteps  became too faint to be heard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda, Constanze, and Lotte all exhaled exhaustedly. They’d all felt enough tension and stress for a lifetime in the span of just a few minutes. “T-T-Too close. That was </span>
  <em>
    <span>too close.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Lotte couldn’t tell whether her nerves or the cold were the cause of her shaking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s ok…. Ok…. We’re ok….” Amanda weakly rose to her feet and reached down to help Lotte up next. For how “hardened” Amanda was, she wasn’t all too keen on getting into a gun fight in the middle of a highly secure military compound. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze similarly needed aid in getting up as knees un-jellified themselves. Once she was on her feet, she took point and quickly led the group to the edge of the alley. She peaked past and saw no sign of the soldiers save the occasional boot print. More importantly, she saw her house just down the road. They’d made it. “Close….” Constanze panted out. She turned her head about and thumbed toward the house. “Make a run for it?” Lotte and Amanda gave each other pensive looks. Amanda nodded first, and then, so did Lotte. “Mmm.” Constanze grunted. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“On three?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her sister and friend nodded again. “Mm….” The three huddled up close beside the corner of the building, gripped their wands tightly, and focused as much as they could on the channeling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda counted them down. “One…. Two…. Three!” The third count saw them sprinting for their lives. So desperate were they for cover that they all dolphin-dived into the broken-down entrance to the old Vonbraunschbank home. They landed in a messy pile, catching their breaths once again, this time, experiencing true relief. They’d finally made it in; now all that remained was to secure the home. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Luckily for them, Lotte remembered a bit more about this invisibility spell than the others did. She scrambled to her feet once she got her wits about her and pointed her wand to the ground. A wordless spell saw the wood in the floor mold itself to create a hole perfectly sized to fit her wand, and so she stuck it in there, the casting end pointed upward, and the wider handle wedged into the ground. “Constanze!” She whispered urgently to her German companion, who quickly tossed Lotte a small, pocket-sized sack. Lotte caught the sack and haphazardly untied the top to spray the salt and diamond dusts out onto the wand with all due haste. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Shadaria Shaytara!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her hurried incant brought power to the wand. Purple and green energies swelled at the tip. The salt and diamond dust began to levitate off of the ground, encompassing the orb of purple and green, and then swelling in size as the spell progressed. After a few moments, the balloon sized mass popped, spraying sparkling shards harmlessly around the room. Lotte and company all shielded their eyes, looking back on the scene only when they were certain the spell had worked. They saw the snowflake like shards drifting toward the ground, and Lotte’s wand still coursed with those same purple and green energies. Nothing else seemed to change, and the witches all slowly rose and moved to investigate their surroundings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“D-Did it work?” Lotte was the most hesitant to move, barely affording herself to leave the spot she had cast the spell in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda gulped down her fears and summoned up a stern expression. “Only one way to find out….” With that same courage, Amanda pushed herself toward the broken doorway and stood boldly out on the porch. She saw a distant soldier look her way, but not </span>
  <em>
    <span>at</span>
  </em>
  <span> her. Indeed, they seemed to hardly notice anything as they patrolled along the sidestreets with their fellows. Amanda went so far as to even wave her waves and jump up and down; still, nothing. Her serious, grim expression turned into a cocky grin almost immediately. She burst back inside and tackled Lotte with a hug to the Finnish woman’s brief terror and confusion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-Wha—!?” Lotte nearly fell over, and would have if it weren’t for Amanda holding her up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You fuckin’ did it Lotte!” Amanda whisper-yelled and clapped Lotte on the back as though she were a long-lost friend. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It… it worked…?” Lotte looked at her wand, and then Amanda. Wand. Amanda. Wand. Amanda. “IT WORKS!?” Lotte returned the hyped whisper-yell as untold joy spread across her initially mortified face. The two embraced each other congratulatory. Finally! They were in the clear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda opened her eyes and looked up. “Conz! We made—” Only then did she realize that there was no true safety to be had here. Constanze was sat up where she dove and looked around as if in a daze. There was no relieved joy in her eyes. No pride in their ability to infiltrate the zone and reach the home undetected. Only mixed emotions, all accented by a certain level of pain, colored her aura. “Uhhh… Lotte.” Amanda awkwardly freed herself from the hug and gestured with a glance toward their more distraught companion. Lotte turned her head halfway around and spotted what Amanda was talking about. She sucked in her lips, visibly cringing. They’d forgotten in the heat of the moment just how harrowing this place must have been for Constanze, and quickly separated themselves from each other so as not to disrespect the graveness of their situation; of Constanze’s situation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fortunately for them, Constanze was far too engrossed in the immediate flood of memories that broke against the dams of her mind to even notice her friends. Even if she did, she wouldn’t care for their joy. Maybe if Constanze herself was in a better state of mind, she too would celebrate their well played gambit, but in that moment, even the soldiers, Speartip, and all of what was going on around her was moot. Lotte swallowed back her own shame and whispered to the group. “L-L-Let’s… let’s get settled in. I-I’ll take your stuff, Constanze.” She hastily shuffled over and snatched up Constanze’s broom from the floor only to back off as quickly as she came. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you… do that.” Amanda hesitantly approached Constanze while Lotte took to minding their supplies. She got down to one knee before her stunned sister, set down her broom, and spoke as softly as she could. “You alright?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It took a moment, but finally, Constanze brought her attention back to the present. “Ah…. Sorry.” Her expression was impossible to read. It was blank, yet not neutral. If black was the presence of all color, and white was the absence of all color, then Constanze was close to the former in terms of emotional composition. “Fine.” She most certainly wasn’t, even if her voice sounded untroubled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sis…. You don’t gotta act like it doesn’ hurt.” Amanda was tempted to touch Constanze, hug her even, but maybe now wasn’t the time. Worse, it was hard to tell if Constanze even registered the statement. She eventually did respond and move, but not in the way Amanda expected. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> She rose and looked around, eventually finding the cracked door that led to her old bedroom. “Going to go look around. Alone.” A “break” was in order, in Constanze’s mind at least.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It made little sense to Amanda for them to rest behind enemy lines, so to speak, but pushing Constanze now was just asking for trouble, so Amanda nodded and got to her feet. “Do whatever you have to. I’ll be here. So will Lotte.” She may not have understood it, but her tone was genuine; she would support her sister as best she could. Constanze nodded back in response before blankly walking toward the door, creaking it open, and closing it every so gingerly behind her. It took only a few moments, but Amanda felt like she was watching Constanze walk away for an hour. She sighed once the click of the tumbler echoed in the otherwise quiet room. She reached down and kicked her broom back up into her hand before wiping the other through her hair. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I really hope this is what you need, sis.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda thought to herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Because I don’t know what we’re gonna do if this ends up hurting you more than it does healing.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Or maybe it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> what Constanze needed. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Time passed slowly, strangely. Constanze’s old room was… both familiar, and alien. The destroyed bed, stabbed pillows, and clawed walls didn’t help of course, but no, Constanze could explain those facets away easily. No, it was the very space which elicited a feeling of alienation. The furniture shunned her, even when she saw it as it used to look from her memories every time she blinked. The knick-knacks and bric-a-brac brought warmth, but also confusion and disdain to her heart. She almost couldn’t believe she used to be like this, to live like this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Five years….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She hadn’t gone home ever since she arrived at Luna Nova. Every summer was one she stayed in for, or at least went to visit </span>
  <em>
    <span>other</span>
  </em>
  <span> family for. She saw her parents, sure, but she never went back to this house for more than a day at most. The space was well and truly un-lived in, and now it was all the less inviting due to the bitter cold and damaged effects.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Otherwise, all in all, the room, to any other observer, was what one might expect of any child or young teen who lived under “helicopter” parents. The walls, floor, and ceiling were plainly colored. The bed was standard, back in the corner of the room, with a few now shredded posters filling up the space just beside where Constanze used to lay. They were mostly movie posters for various Kaiju and Mecha things she’d latched onto as a kid, and to her surprise, she even saw one of her old mecha-mini-models still standing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In a haze, she stupored over to it and examined the figurine that stood proud upon her dresser, wielding a cartoonishly large blade and posing dramatically. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Still standing…. Just like I left you.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> For all it’s flair, the figurine was dust covered, and untouched, just like the rest of the space. She remembered back to a time when she was so young as to actually recall having lax, functional parents. She must have been six when she and her dad built that model, and it was the first “engineering” project she ever partook in. To her credit, she did most of the work. Her dad just handled the hot glue gun. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s where it started, isn’t it?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze raised her wand effortlessly, gingerly, and tapped the mecha-figurine. A little flash of magic “poofed” all of the dust off, sending it up and away into the air, leaving it as she best remembered it, in all of its shining, polished glory. She found herself transfixed, staring almost unblinkingly at the model. It meant so little, but so much in the grand scheme of things, and that was but one of many nostalgia inducing items that lay scattered about.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>“Good memories….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her half-opened eyes suddenly widened and she reflexively clenched her fists. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“One good memory.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her head began to hurt, her lungs felt heavy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“And a thousand shit ones!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She forced herself to look away. The emotions brought on by the sight of her first creation were just too much for her in that moment. Rage roiled in her breast. Rage not unlike her hate for Nikolai, but different all the same. It must have been a mixture, she surmised, of her twin angers. Her anger was not lonesome, however, it was accompanied with regret, but regret for what? Regret for not making amends sooner? Regret for not sticking up for herself directly, and instead opting to avoid her parents? Regret for even giving them a reason for abusing her in the first place? She couldn’t say. Every answer was dissatisfying in some respect. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still, Constanze knew she couldn’t look away forever. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I came here to put this to bed!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>If only she knew what that meant, or how to do it in the first place. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“And I can’t even be bothered to just… look at it!?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She winced in response to her own internal scolding, forcing herself with great hesitancy to look upon the model. She heard the voices of the time she spent building it. She remembered laughter, jokes, and tranquility; things that were, and could have been forever for the Von Braunschbanks. The model stood now only as a testament to that lost future. Constanze sucked in a sharp, long breath. Her wand was raised up again and leveled at the model. Her heavy, methodical breathing, spoke to ever increasing turmoil within. Would she destroy it, or would she leave it be? Would she take it with her? What was to be done with this… this toy? </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s just a fucking toy.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>And yet there Constanze stood, unable to decide its fate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For minutes she stood there, staring, shaking, breathing, but never acting. During those minutes, she remembered back to her talks with Amanda. The greatest of her woes never did get solved. Nikolai may have seemed like the thing which vexed her most, and perhaps, in a literal sense, he was. He nearly killed both Constanze and Amanda, and was most certainly the one who slaughtered her family. But his wounds were unintentional in some ways. He could not have known of the poor relationship Constanze had with her mother and father. Thus, he could not have predicted that Constanze would find herself both enraged and all too eager to commit great violence in the name of vengeance on their behalf, and almost too stricken with resentment </span>
  <em>
    <span>for</span>
  </em>
  <span> her parents to act on their behalf at all. Truly, if it weren’t for the attack on Luna Nova, Constanze wondered if she’d have given up by now, if she would have, not forgiven Nikolai, but forgot about him. Now though, in this half-lucid moment of memory and malice, he occupied Constanze’s mind as more of a phantom rather than a rival, or a great enemy. His existence was a plague, his actions were pestilence, and the aftermath left in his wake was rotten. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Indeed, Constanze almost felt afflicted by some disease of mind, or perhaps the spirit. It had shaken and sickened her to the core over these past weeks, and now, after all this time of fighting it off— </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s a fucking toy that hits me the hardest….”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Knock, knock, knock</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rhythmically, but not in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>familiarly bad way</span>
  </em>
  <span>, three knocks struck the door, followed by Amanda’s voice. “Uh, sis, I know you wanted to be alone… and I wanted to say we’re almost all set up  for the video… and we’re safe thanks to the spell, in case… you forgot, but uh…. Look, if you need me, or Lotte or... just—” Before Amanda could finish, the door creaked open, and Constanze could be seen peeking up at her sister with, to AManda’s surprise, dry and stonewalled eyes. Were it not for the greater context, Amanda might have assumed this was one of Constanze’s typical expressions, a resting sort of scowl, but no, Amanda knew that was too good to be true. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>There’s no way she’s taking it that well.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda thought as she stepped a hair back and adjusted her collar. “Oh. Sorry if I—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Again, Amanda was interrupted, but this time by a note rather than a noise. “Don’t apologize.” Constanze didn’t so much as exit the room to hold it up as she did pass the notes back and forth between herself and Amanda. “I appreciate the concern.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, my point stands.” Amanda put one hand on her hip and the other against the door frame so that she could lean against it. “If you need help or company, just say the word. Ok?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze hesitated. She glanced back at her room and saw it still brimming with things to pour over. There’s no way she’d get through it all in one night, but did they even have a chance to come back? The model may have made her angry, and even hurt her in the sense that it scratched at an old, and still aching scab, but Constanze also felt it to be a necessary sort of pain. She was doing this to herself because she felt there was no other way to reconcile it. She had thought about what happened long enough. Now was the time to see the remnants of those happenings just as she left them all those years ago, as Nikolai left them after his attack, and accept that they happened; that they exist. The staggering choice of course made that prospect difficult. Everywhere she looked was a memory, a trauma, a dream, a possibility. Her note was simple, to the point. “Confused. Not sure what to do.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: I can help you. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We</span>
  </em>
  <span> can help you.” Amanda flicked her head in Lotte’s direction while keeping her eyes on Constanze. “And I know. I know what you’re going to say: This is your fight, and it is, I ain’t arguing about that.” She paused, seeing if Constanze might interject. When her quiet sister remained as such, and didn’t take to her pen and pad, Amanda continued. “All I’m saying is that you can do your fighting with us, like…. Damnit, how do I phrase this.” Amanda snapped her fingers twice in trying to summon up the verbage she needed. “Spotting you! That’s it.” It seemed initially lost on Constanze, but a slight nod showed her delayed understanding. “Right, so why not? Let’s go around and help you figure this out. All we’ll do is follow you, watch your back, and maybe even do a little cheerle—” Amanda stopped herself, knowing now was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> the time for lightheartedness, even if done with good intent. “Ahem…. But, uh, yeah. We’ll keep you focused. That’s all.” A sincere smile topped off her attempts at reaching out. Behind the smile lay a certain anxiety though. She was worried that this might go like last time, like when this all began when Constanze sat behind a door, stricken and distraught, with Amanda pleading from the other side to be let in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Initially, it seemed that history would indeed rhyme that way as Constanze silently pulled away from the door, disappearing into the darkness. Amanda’s arms fell to her sides as she sighed. She raised one hand to hold her face and cover her eyes, but was surprised to hear the self-same sound of creaking doors just a moment later. She parted two of her fingers to peak through them and saw Constanze standing plainly in the door frame. She looked aimless, and that was one of the worst things Constanze could be given how driven and focused she otherwise was. Still, despite the depressing sight, Amanda smiled wide and dropped the hand over her eyes to rest at her hip. “Ey, Lotte, are you good over there?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wha—?” Lotte craned her neck up from her organizing work to see what Amanda needed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda chuckled, raising her voice a bit to be clearly understood. “Don’t worry about it. I just wanted to know if you’d be willing to walk with me and Conz for a bit.” Amanda turned her body to the side and leaned against the wall all cool like, using her posture to hide a hand-gesture: She thumbed back to Constanze before quickly gesturing back and forth between Lotte and Amanda as a way of saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>“She really needs us right now.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sadly, unlike Nelson, Lotte was not keyed into Amanda’s gesturing language, and so she just tilted her head wordlessly. Amanda’s cool and warm expression briefly broke down into one of slight frustration and urgency as she waved Lotte over with less subtlety. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok, ok, I’m coming.” Lotte still sounded on edge, slightly bitter even. She couldn’t fully get that “coward” comment out of her head. Still, she wasn’t petulant or generally bristling as a person, so Lotte came to Constanze’s aid, though she was immediately uncertain of why she was even being called over. It was, almost too literally, like being invited to the funeral of a friend’s family member who you never knew or met. Constanze never spoke of her family to Lotte, nor did Lotte ever even see them. There were honest times when Lotte thought to herself, wondering if Constanze was an orphan like Sucy, or otherwise estranged, but such passing inquiries never became more than internal questions. “What’s up?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was just thinkin’ that it’d be better for Conz here if she could grieve with a few friends at her back.” Amanda stepped away from the wall and stuck her hands in her pockets</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Lotte could offer input on Amanda’s statement though, Constanze interjected with a note. “Not grieving.” She seemed confident while writing it, but the numbness that was intermittently washing over her, replacing the intensity of anger and sorrow with nothingness, betrayed her true experience. She was self aware to know that she was, </span>
  <em>
    <span>in a way</span>
  </em>
  <span>, grieving, but also couldn’t treat this eulogic matter as one that carried with it only the sentiments of yearning for lives cut short. If spite for Amanda was a tool for survival, then spite for Constanze was a knife in the gut, and those knives were becoming numerous. “Reconciling.” She corrected with a murmur that saw her voice crack.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neither Amanda nor Lotte replied to it, not with words at least. The two other witches regarded each other with mixed emotions. Lotte felt pity, and she expressed it as well, but couldn’t help but show a bit of apprehension as well. She wanted to be there for her friends, but she also didn’t know how to when it came to something as heavy as this. On the other hand, Amanda was once again smiling warmly. She was hopeful that this might be the beginning of the end for Constanze’s woes, and Nine be damned if she wasn’t going to do all she could to see that hope become true. Despite their opposing emotions, both witches nodded in agreement. Amanda gestured gently for Constanze to lead on before stuffing her hand back in her jacket. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze looked from Amanda, to Lotte, and then to her room. Once her eyes had fully settled on the room, she nodded to herself, took a quick breath, and started toward her old living space with sister and friend in tow. She left the figurine as it was for now; she didn’t want to linger on one thing for too long. Instead, she went beside it to the picture frame that sat beside it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was similarly coated in dust, so much so that Constanze needed to wipe it with her sleeve to see the full details of the photo within. She was a child in it, dressed in a slightly frilly pink dress, sporting the most dramatic of sour-pusses, a sort of predecessor to the casual scowl she was known for as a teenager and adult. Her father stood beside her, laughing heartily, clad in a simple summer polo. He was a little thinner back then, for his beer-gut hadn’t been so pronounced, if only because he was much more judicious about his alcohol consumption back then, but he always had been a hefty lad. Her mother, meanwhile, was outside of the frame. She was the photographer in that instance. The backdrop of the photo was a dock, a naval station specifically, prominently featuring one of those retired battleships from decades gone by. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze remembered the day well: She had wanted, no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>begged</span>
  </em>
  <span> her parents to take her to go see the warships. She used to have, and still did to a degree, a fascination with militarized things. Having grown up in Germany though, it didn’t take long for her to realize just how horrifying the grand scale of military might could be; not just because of her home country’s history, but the history of great powers from all over the world. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“They must’ve thought I was really weird.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze herself knew of course that any child could like anything, but to more elder, conventional parents such as hers, she could only imagine that having a young daughter be so interested in giant robots, monsters, and militarily styled things must have been strange for them. She was just lucky enough to have parents who supported, or at least allowed her to have whatever hobby suited her fancy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“And I still couldn’t fucking smile for the camera.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Another good memory, out of a heap of “shit” ones, and the very proof of its existence came with a childish scowl. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze didn’t know whether to laugh or shout at herself for that little aspect of her personality: Smiling never came easy to her. She had to spend years learning how to with Akko, Amanda, and the like, but even then, smiling usually required active effort on her part. Now, looking back on her history in photograph form, she couldn’t help but wish that she learned sooner. Sure, her parents always found it funny when she conjured up some ridiculously incredulous or intense sneer for every family photo they ended up taking, but Constanze, perhaps by way of normative convention, felt she’d done them a disservice. Her grip tightened on the edge of the picture, and her eyes drifted up to the wall. She considered throwing the thing aside as hard as she could, just to vent some of that internal anger and disappointment through action. Amanda was attentive though and spotted the sudden shift in posture, so she stepped closer, away from her bystandarded position, so that she could put an arm around Constanze’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Initially, she grew tenser, but soon after, once Constanze realized what was happening, she eased up. “That’s you and your dad, right?” Asked Amanda, doing her best to keep Constanze focused on whatever it was she was initially thinking of. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm….” Luckily, it seemed to be working. Constanze eased her grip on the photo and breathed just a bit easier. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda nodded. “Seems like you had some decent times with your folks.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes.” Constanze set the picture back where she found it then. “Not often.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda prompted Constanze further. “What do you think about when you remember the times when it was good?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze pursed her lips. Her posture swayed ever so slight, as if she were light headed. “What could have been…. What really happened….” She glanced at Amanda. “You know what they did.” Amanda clicked her tongue in acknowledgement, looking up at the photo as Constanze’s eyes fell on her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you told me alright….” Amanda sighed. “Must be hard to forgive them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze looked back at the photo and felt her brow tighten. “I don’t think I can. I don’t think I want to.” Lotte considered answering, but shut her mouth promptly after opening it. She would remain an awkward observer, for now at least. Along for the ride, as it were. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And that’s fine.” Amanda assured. “But do you think you </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> to?” Constanze wouldn’t, and couldn’t respond immediately. Instead, she drifted away from Amanda’s grasp and went to exit the room. “Eh? Where are you going?” Again, no response came, and so Amanda rolled her shoulders and beckoned for Lotte to follow. They walked along behind their witch-smith companion, unintentionally creating a tune that only Constanze could hear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Two three one two three three…. Two three two three one two three.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On and on the rhythm went. They stopped by dozens of ruined photos, examined the ravaged furnishings, and picked apart what trinkets remained to remind Constanze of the past. Amanda kept her cool, calm, and feeling safe, but she couldn’t protect Constanze from everything. Ironically, Amanda’s question haunted the returning Von Braunschbank more than any of the memories. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Do I really need to…?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> All this time she felt like she kept having to justify her anger, but only in a way that made her anger feel like an insult to the deceased. One shouldn’t be mad at the departed during their funeral. So too did Constanze feel that she had to set her woes aside and let bygones be bygones. But how does one make amends with the truly bygone?</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Does it even matter now?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The question repeated over and over, sounding in her mind to the phantom tune. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Did any of it ever matter at all?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her growing dread, the creeping existential horror, fully manifested when she came to the stairs that lead up to what used to be the second floor, but what was now a caved in roof. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What if they never hurt me? Would they still be here? Would I still be here?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze reached out toward one of the jagged boards which stuck out from the pile and felt its grooves and edges. She got a splinter lodged into her pointer finger and winced at the sharpness, though she did not remove it immediately. Her eyes fixated on that little pinprick, her rambling thoughts went on. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Wouldn’t it just hurt more if I loved them?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Finally, after a few moments, she plucked the splinter out and let it fall to the ground. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Gott, it feels like I’ve been shot. This whole… everything… everything that’s happened since the attack, it feels…. It’s like the world’s longest operation, and I’m under my own knife. I might as well have been pulling out a tank shell from my own chest. That’s how ‘easy’ this is even when I… when I don’t think I loved them.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The nearly invisible wound quickly gained color. A droplet of blood bubbled up from the skin. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Would I have even survived learning about if they were better parents?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze could only regard the sentiment as insane. The abused, welcoming, even being glad for the abuse they suffered, while being </span>
  <em>
    <span>fully lucid</span>
  </em>
  <span> about the fact that indeed, they suffered abuse. There were no gas lamps to marr her mind, no blackened letters arriving at her door, and certainly no bold faced lies about what she experienced. Her parents knew it as they were doing it, and yet it continued. Only after years apart were they able to recognize what they had done to their one and only child, and now there was no family to rebuild, just Constanze, a lone survivor of a legacy unraveled. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Legacies….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The notion of her family’s greater existence, what she meant as a being with thoughts, aspirations, feelings, it all came back to that notion of the legacy. Constanze didn’t grow up believing in such things, and she wasn’t about to change her tune, to believe that a bloodline deserves more than another, but she wouldn’t deny that there was a heritage denied to her, or at least, a heritage left shadowed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Uncle Jo…. Aunt Gertrund…. The Balefire.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Up through the cracks, Constanze beheld the moon in it’s waxing gibbous phase. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I know what they did. My parents. But I need to know what they didn’t do.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The blood dripped from her tip to the floor. Amanda nudged her shoulder gently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oi, you ok?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze clenched the fist that held the bleeding finger, smearing a bit of blood into her palm. “We need to go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte snapped up from her slight stupor at the stern order that Constanze gave. “G-Go? We just got here!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Down the street.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Down…. Wait, why?” Amanda was just as lost as Lotte. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aunt and Uncle’s house.” As if that was enough of an explanation, Constanze strode past both her fellows with a tinge of aggression to her step. Her shoulder bumped into Amanda, and the one-track-mindedness that guided her path forced Lotte to stumble back. The Finnish witch would have no more of it though, not without an explanation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“H-Hold on!” Lotte held her arms out wide and actively blocked Constanze’s path. “We barely made it here without getting caught, and we’re luckier that I remember how to do the more advanced version of that invisibility spell!” Without it, the house would show signs of habitance; with it active, all that outside beings could see was just an endless, still image loop of the home. “And now you want to risk going out there again!? No way!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda tried to interject, “Oi, Lotte! Chill!” But she went unheard. Even Constanze only stared up blankly at Lotte as she ranted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte simply spoke louder, maybe even loud enough to be heard outside of the home. “We came here for a reason! And… and I know you probably suggested we come here so that you could grieve, b-but that isn’t what we planned! It’s not fair to risk everyone we love because… because….” Lotte bit her tongue in vain. “Because you’re too caught up in your own hurting to think about what matters! Our friends…. Sucy, Akko, everyone! They’re all still alive </span>
  <em>
    <span>right now</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and… and all you can do is think about people who are already dead!” Frustration dominated her expression, hiding all of the immediate regret that lay semi-dormant in her gut. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Where Lotte stood defiant, angry, Amanda cringed </span>
  <em>
    <span>for </span>
  </em>
  <span>her. She too knew that Lotte would come to regret this later. It just wasn’t like the gentle, bubbly bookworm of the red team to say something so blunt and aggressive. Constanze however seemed wholly unphased by it. Not in the sense that it didn’t register, or that she didn’t care, but because she almost wanted to agree. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Can’t keep letting corpses drag me down.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her mind went to Vaal, to the chains, the sufferers in their writhing pit of agony. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Can’t cut the chain either. Even if it’s rusty, heavy….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze finally made a move. She simply walked past Lotte at a casual pace, appearing to ignore her demands while also telling her all she needed to know. “Need to repair Dyrnwyn and Carnwennan.” Constanze stood in the doorframe, glancing back at Amanda and Lotte, blinking away the last tear of unclear sorrow that she would shed. From here on out, she would give a purpose to every droplet to fall from her face. There would be no more confusion in sadness, only release and restitution. “My family might have known about the Order. If they knew, then they might know how to become a witch-smith. I need to know how, or else we’ll never fix the blades.” Lotte felt her face loosen, and her stomach tighten into knots. “And if any of them knew about, then Uncle Jo and Gertrand would be the ones to know the most.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte gulped down a cannonball of anxiety that formed in her throat. She couldn't even manifest words in her mind to describe how mad she was at herself for saying the things she did, even if she herself couldn’t deny that she believed them. She was tired of this, even if it felt so very wrong to be tired of a friend’s grieving. It was like she was tired of an ill person’s cough. It was wrong, but it was contextually all she could think about. And then there was Donar’s Oak, and her own distractions, and how guilty she felt about that now, and— </span>
  <em>
    <span>“God, why can’t this be a dream….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lotte was getting a migraine; the worst kind of migraine. All of it: All of what they had come to know and experience in the past few days had just been hellish, and still Lotte could barely keep herself together. For all the Sisu her parents said she had, she felt like her skin was as thick as wet paper-towels. Lotte’s own spiraling anguish would be interrupted though before it could truly solidify.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You coming?” Constanze asked plainly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda too had to be pulled back down to reality. Her incredulous gaze left upon Lotte shifted suddenly to Constanze, becoming one of surprise, uncertainty, and faux confidence. “O-Of course! Yeah. I’m… let’s go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Where Amanda stepped forth, Lotte stepped back. “I….” Tears threatened to show themselves once more. “I’m….” But Constanze wouldn’t allow Lotte to wallow like that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine.” The neutrality in her voice, the calmness and collected nature, it made it seem like Constanze was at her baseline. The only sign that would give away that something was different was the determined scowl upon her face, and the tall posture with which she walked. She beckoned to Lotte to follow, but when Lotte refused with a shake of her head, Constanze held up a quickly written note. It read: “I want you to come.” Lotte covered her mouth with both hands, masking the sniffling whimper that managed to escape her lips as she read and understood the words on the paper. Eventually, she nodded and joined the sisters by the front door. Constanze returned the nod, looked out to the street, and took a deep breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Either she would find proof of the order, or she would find nothing but the ashes of an ill-prepared grave. She would either forgive her blood family, and part with the bittersweet acceptance that they wanted the best for her, no matter how far they veered from the path, or she would relegate their memory to the gutter of her mind, recalling them only as stains upon her experience. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Back out on the porch, the world felt like it had shifted. The reality of their compromised position made itself known once again with the sight of more soldiers and hazmat wearing researchers gathering around a house down and across the street. The whiplash of realities, from the dystopic and confusing nature of the militants outside, to the somber, silent, and emotional landscape within the Von Braunschbank home, and back again to the former, left all of them uneasy. Constanze, at the least, didn’t have time to feel uneasy anymore. She and Amanda lifted their wands, as Lotte had elected to leave hers behind so that the house could remain concealed, and so that they wouldn’t have to re-cast the spell; diamond dust didn’t grow on trees, after all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their destination wasn’t far, it was clearly ahead of them even, but that two or four minute walk felt like a marathon when any number of things could go wrong. Amanda’s eyes lingered on the soldiers as their own dome of invisibility took hold. “Was that the house we nearly got caught at?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte peered over Amanda’s shoulder, almost literally hiding behind her for cover, her hands still cusped over her mouth and nose. “Y-Yeah.” She muffeldly replied. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze glared at the agents of Speartip. They were preparing to breach the front door by the looks of things. She was just as disgusted by their presence as she was when first seeing Ludinghal from afar. Her sorrow had crystalized into malice now. “Hope they were right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“About what?” Asked Amanda. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“About—” Constanze couldn’t even finish the sentence before the sound of splintering wood echoed down the street. The lead soldier had kicked their way in, followed soon after by four more armed fighters, leaving the research team and five other soldiers on the outside. Out of morbid curiosity, the trio of witches watched from the safety of their ensorceled home, silently, and in Lotte’s case, fearfully. Amanda too felt an anxiety about what they might find inside, but she was more concerned that there’d be some sort of trail that led them to Constanze’s home, even if every shred of logic in Amanda’s head told her such a thing was impossible. Constanze though couldn’t care. This was but a distraction to her search, and to their overall goals here. Still, curiosity was a fickle thing to dispel, and so she watched. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>About a minute passed of little activity before the sounds of shouts and gunfire broke out from within the home, overtoned by the hissing shrieks of something inhuman. The noises were sporadic, wild, and the soldiers outside quickly tensed up and stepped closer, ready to reinforce. They were greeted not by their fighting comrades though, but by an airborne corpse, chucked through the air with great force. It collided with one of the leading defenders, knocking him clean over and tumbling him over in a full, messy summersault. Gunfire continued within the home all the while, but the soldiers left standing outside couldn’t help but peer at their fallen: That was a mistake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The corpse was freshly butchered, missing all limbs but the head and left leg. The torso, or what remained of the gnawed out chest cavity and torn uniform, ran red. It looked like he had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>scooped</span>
  </em>
  <span> from the lower jaw down to the stomach; a gorey, unbroken wound had split him right open! Worst of all, his wounds dripped a sort of green ooze that melted away at his bones and armaments, leaving behind a sort of nutrient slurry. An acidic compound was externally digesting him, or at least, what remained of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sight made even the hardened looking soldiers retch, and sent the others into a state of panic. They saw glimpses and flashes of the giant insectoid thing that was thrashing about inside, summarily finishing off the initial squad, but they could get no clear shot. Fear gave way to reason, even as the commanding officer and most clinically unemotioned researchers tried to bring order to the chaos. The soldiers opened fire indiscriminately on the household, blowing chunks of wood from the already weakened walls, and sending glass shrapnel from newly ruined windows everywhere. Lotte instinctively went to ground, covering her eyes and shielding her eyes from the violence. Amanda winced back, ducking a little low, but kept an eye on things. Constanze similarly was taken aback by the terrible sight of the body, her stomach churned, and she was forced herself to look away, taking a long, deep breath, and did her best to shunt the immediacy of the events from her mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When it was over, the wind was as sawdust, gun-smoke, and blood. It blew mercifully to the south, away from the trio of witches, saving them from the worst of the stench. The sight remained just as harrowing, even more so now that the guns had fallen silent. The soldiers remained wholly focused on the home, refusing to blink or move until they were certain that whatever it was that raged inside was now dead. The officer quickly broke out into fierce shouting. His reprimands were decisive, furious, and thorough. Whether or not the soldiers understood it, or even took it to heart was another thing, for even Amanda, Constanze, and Lotte couldn’t parse his words; it went in through one ear and slid out the other. Like the soldiers, they too remained terribly fixated on the bullet-ridden home, waiting for a sign of life. Eventually it came in the form of a reaching mandible. It was a large, sharply pointed sort of claw with a semi-hollow hook shape, about one foot thick and three feet long, sporting jagged, ripping spikes of chitin on the interior. It was perfect for </span>
  <em>
    <span>scooping</span>
  </em>
  <span> up its prey into its mandibles, and just as ideal for digging burrows. The claw was stained in its own multi-colored juices and the blood of those it slaughtered, and was fractured at various points from the random gunshots that managed to crack its chitin. Its motions were  jittery, weak, and from the angle the three witches had, they could only see the hook scraping slowly at the floor of the door frame before falling limp. Ostensibly, all humans inside were dead from one cause or another. The soldiers all went slack with relief and the aftermaths of shock and horror. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze was the first to fully acknowledge what they’d just witnessed. “We should leave.” She spoke curtly, quickly, and began to backpedalled cautiously, a mix of disgust and fear on her face. “Follow me.” They’d seen enough. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda only then realized how heavy she was breathing, and thus forced herself to calm down and regain her wits. She felt Lotte behind her on the ground, and so she spun about, knelt down, and helped the shaken Finnish witch up. “Come on, Lotte. Come on!” Amanda couldn’t agree more. Lotte had to be forced to her feet and guided along as the trio made a mad dash for the house down the street. Amanda and Constanze desperately summon up the dome of invisibility to keep them hidden while Lotte stumbled along, fleeing as if her life depended on it. The only thing that kept her from screaming in horror at all of this was the thought of what might happen to them were they to be caught. That terrified her more than any visceral act of violence. All the while, the research team, hazmated men and women, reluctantly got to work. Were the trio to look back (none of them dared to), they’d find the researchers seemed more reluctant about being stuck with more corpses rather than concerned about the loss of life and limb. This was but another day on the job for them, just as it was another day to die for the soldiers who foolishly signed up for this. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><em><span>Slam!</span></em> <em><span>Click!</span></em></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Somehow, the door to Uncle Jo and Aunt Gertrand’s home was in-tact. The lock even worked. Lotte was quick to take advantage of that. She almost went as far as sliding a nearby cupboard over the door, but Amanda held her back. They all needed to catch their breath, and not just because they had just sprinted here. Each of them bent over or collapsed to the floor, sweating despite the cold and all the layers they were bundled up in. Lotte was disoriented enough to toss off her parka, as if she could achieve the equivalent of throwing icy water on her face by letting the cold wind cut through her. Alas, sense didn’t come from shocking her senses like that; the house was too insulated, too unharmed to really be as cold as Constanze’s own. Still, it wasn’t “pretty” or “put together” on the interior. The clear signs of a struggle marred the space, but not in the same way that other homes were defiled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Constanze, Lotte, and Amanda all gathered their senses, their eyes wandered aimlessly. They spotted a chair, cleaved into uneven pieces, along with gashes and “stab” wounds in the couch and wall. All of these mundane marks were juxtaposed by the lingering airs of magic that felt particularly strong here. The whole town reeked of arcane energies, but this place had a sulphur smell to it, and not the natural kind. It was intense, choking even, but no clear source could be determined. Scorch marks and burnt out pieces of furniture may have signified a fire, but the flames didn’t seem to spread beyond localized blast zones and tiny black spots. They were bewildering to Constanze and Lotte, but Amanda knew exactly what they meant. “Did…. Was someone throwing’ fireballs in here?” A magical battle of sorts had to have taken place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze lifted her head up, having let it hang down as she bent over and caught her breath with her hands on her knees. She surveyed the room again, carefully this time. “Uncle Jo…. Aunt Gertrand…. They were witches, remember?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh… yeah, yeah I remember you told me…. Phew….” Amanda forced herself upright. She shook her limbs and hands free of goosebumps while she spoke. “Seems like they put up a fight.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm….” Constanze never knew them as martially capable, but just about every witch knew at least one or two potentially harmful spells. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A-A…. Are…. Are we not g-going to talk about….” Lotte could barely form a sentence in her head let alone express it clearly with her voice. She was huddled on the ground, having instinctively slumped down against the nearest wall. She held the sides of her face with both hands, fingers lacing messily through her hair. “Oh god…. He…. It….” She was going to be sick at this rate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah Christ….” Amanda muttered to herself, wiping her brow. “Lotte, you gotta… we gotta not think about stuff like that, ok? We gotta breath in, breath out…. Just let it… slide right off your back.” She wasn’t trying to be dismissive, but she also had no idea how to handle the trauma triggered by seeing a gorey corpse for the first time, let alone at all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“His body…. It….” Lotte saw the motion of his flung cadaver play in reverse only to go forward again. The shrieks, the hissing, the gunfire. Lotte had never been so close to death, and this was but a vicarious experience, one in which she watched, unknown to the very being which dealt death, and to those who died by its claws. Shock was the best and only word to describe her state, and all Amanda could think to do was walk on over and kneel beside her. Instinctively, Lotte threw herself into Amanda’s chest, burying her face in her jacket and holding her tight. She did not weep or whimper, but she did tremble. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda almost fell onto her back from the sudden force of the embrace, but she kept herself steady. In the face of a breakdown, all she could think to do was give Constanze a weary, but approving look. She gestured with one free hand to make a circular motion with her pointer finger before pointing it at Constanze and then sweeping it along the would-be horizon. It was her way of saying: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You go check the place out.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Afterward, she pointed to herself and then the ground. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll stay here.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze wiped her face from her eyes down before she nodded in acknowledgement. Lotte was in no state to move right now, and it wasn’t like she or Amanda would have any idea where her aunt and uncle may have kept things; especially secret things. Constanze’s eyes lingered on Lotte for a few moments. She felt a sense of guilt rise up in her gut from how she regarded Lotte earlier: Cowardly. Constanze didn’t know or care if she meant it back then, only if it hurt Lotte. Even if it didn’t hurt, Constanze had to admit that she felt strangely at ease given what she just witnessed. Sure, her heart raced, and she felt mildly uneasy, but that was it. Her mind went to the gore. The blood. The nightmarish visions of violence that had plagued her since she learned of Nikolai’s existence. They dominated her thought-space for a moment before a tune began to grow loud in her ears. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Two... three... one two... three... three…. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clearly, no one else heard it, given Amanda and Lotte kept their heads down, eyes closed, and sat still, but Constanze couldn’t get it out of her head. It overlaid itself over the fantasies of blood and murder. Constanze turned around numbly, her expression dejected, her hands tightening into fists. Water; water was dripping from some water-damaged portion of the ceiling in the L-shaped stairwell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drop drop… drop drop drop… drop drop-drop… drop drop drop… drop drop drop….</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Either I’m losing my mind....” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She mouthed the words, but no sound escaped her lips. She almost wanted to laugh and cry about it, but the numbness that pervaded her ever since they left her old home was all consuming. All she could muster was disgust, contempt, and annoyance, all mixing together to form a deep scowl. The only way forward was up. Her legs lazily began the work of moving one foot and then the other until she reached a determined, slightly stomping pace. She passed under the rhythmically falling droplets and felt their cold upon her cheek, but neither flinched nor blinked. The tune continued, adding every step she took to the symphony. Soon, she could no longer see the visions of violence. It all got drowned out by the song, </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> song. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Or it’s trying to tell me something….”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Up the stairs she went, rounding the sharp turn to find herself at one end of a long hallway with five doors. She passed by a bathroom and closet first, tightly packed beside each other, and then her cousin’s old room and the guest room; the one Constanze usually camped out in when she was able to convince her parents to let her sleep over. She didn’t bother to look within any of those rooms. She knew how they would look. She knew the signs of battle and destruction would only fuel the raging inferno in her heart. No, her prize lay in the master bedroom. It had to, for the tune only grew louder as she approached it. She’d been running from the song up until now, but all reason had already left this place of decay and militant secrecy, so why should she do what her base instincts told her? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her right hand gripped the door loose door knob firmly. She tried to turn it, but the door was stuck. On closer inspection, the door had been slammed shut in such a way that the lock was broken and stuck in the wood. Her eyes shifted to the door itself. Stab marks, slashing wounds. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“He was here.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She knew it in her gut, in her fists, in her heart which swirled with hate. Constanze tried to force the door, but to no avail. She stepped back then and took a page out of Amanda’s playbook. One, two, three shoulder tackles later, and the door swung in. Unfortunately, Constanze had little to no experience breaking and entering, so she fell on her tackling-side as soon as the door flew wide, her momentum carrying her. When the sound of her thudding body resounded, the loud tune ceased, leaving Constanze laying on the ground in silence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Drolly, Constanze groaned and rolled onto her back once she realized what she just did. She glanced at her right shoulder before brushing it off. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Just a bruise.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Nothing that would slow her down. She rose up from the floor with a grunt of effort and found the room just as she expected it. The bed was broken beyond repair, the walls were singed and scraped up, and even faint blood stains were visible on the floor, blankets, and walls. A larger, dried up pool had formed where a body must have laid for some time, and beside it sat another pool. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“This is where they died…. But where are the bodies?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze looked out of the window just behind the bed that sat center-stage in the room. She caught a glimpse of the soldiers and researchers as they fumblingly stuffed the giant armored creature into a large body bag. It looked like a dark brown shrimp covered in chitinous plates, or perhaps a cross between a prawn, a lobster, and a mantis. Whatever it was, it was dead now, and the crews outside no doubt had an interest in “studying” it. She remembered back to the other body bags, the ones that looked all too human in shape and size. Her stomach turned. Her glare intensified. It took great effort to force herself to deny that reality entirely. She couldn’t risk losing herself to anger at a time or place like this. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Focus! Focus… and breathe.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>In and out, through the nose, out the lungs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze fell onto the edge of the ruined bed amidst her deep breathing, and while it may have been broken, the mattress was a comforting enough surface to sit on that it let her collect her feelings. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Maybe they’re just burying them. Worried there’s… some sort of infection. Transmittable curses…. It makes sense…. Just breathe and… and it’ll be alright.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> No matter how much she tried to convince herself, she knew that Speartip’s presence here could not be succinctly explained away. A quarantine was one thing, a research facility, of questionable size, scope, and purpose, staffed by soldiers who, for whatever reason, needed to hide their identity or origins, was far too suspicious to not have a likely disagreeable purpose behind it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“As if everything wasn’t weird enough already.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze sighed and gripped the edge of the bed tightly to channel some of her frustrations out of her system. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Almost makes me prefer when things were convenient. When they fit together too perfectly, but when you couldn’t explain it.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze looked up, rolling her head back and closing her eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“As if things are done being convenient.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her mind went to that fateful eve, in the depths of the Balefire Of Caledonia, where she and Amanda stood in the flame, attached by a burning chain. She remembered Vaal’s unintended reveal of a promise that had been made. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Their legacies are ours. They live on with us.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze had been suspecting that this had been planned by Woodward, however possible, ever since Vaal lit slip mention of that promise. But it begged the question: “What about the other seven?” She spoke as her eyes slowly opened, looking blankly at the unremarkable ceiling. The question would hang in the air, going unanswered, for the relative silence that Constanze had been afforded would be broken by the sounds of approaching footsteps. She raised her eyes and looked up at the half-ajar door and saw faint signs of a dark-jacketed person approaching; Amanda. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oi, Conz, everything alright?” Amanda peaked her head in while speaking. She looked tired, emotionally so, but kept a determined, persevering air about her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmhm.” Constanze lazily gestured to the door. “Stuck. Had to break in.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda silently “Ahh’d” in understanding, mouthing the noise. “Just wanted to make sure. Thought maybe something fell.” Amanda peaked around, tensing up ever so slightly at the sights of blood. “It’s… not like these houses should be trusted to be all structurally sound after getting trashed like this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine.” Constanze reassured. “You're slow though.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Amanda pushed the door open. It creaked noisily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze shook her head, cracking a half-smile for a brief moment before it faded. She wrote out a response and held it up. “If I really had been hurt due to architectural failure, then you took awhile to actually check on me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda shrugged and offered a witless expression. “Well I didn’t hear you yell or scream or anything, and I kinda had a freak-out to manage so forgive me if it took a second to get unattached to Lotte.” She was mostly speaking in jest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm.” More scribbling on her page, lazy and slow, articulated Constanzes’ thoughts. “I know. How is Lotte holding up?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not… great. Let’s say that.” Amanda sighed and stretched her arms from left to right. “But she’ll be… ok enough, I guess. At least that’s what she told me.” A pause followed before Amanda awkwardly added: “Oh, and don’t go in the downstairs bathroom. Plumbing doesn’t work and Lotte was pretty nauseous after—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t remind me.” Constanze shuddered and shoved the imagery from her mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I really should just try and forget about it too.” As if that was easy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze went back to writing her responses again. “Stay with her. I’ll be fine up here. She needs someone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you don’t?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze pursed her lips, clicked her tongue, and shook her head. She held up her response: “She needs it more right now.” She considered asking Amanda to tell Lotte she was sorry on her behalf, but that felt both crass and uncalled for given the circumstances. She’d apologize more formally at a later date. “Just need to do some searching. Keep an eye out for patrols. Make sure Lotte’s ask alright as she says she is.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda raised a single thumb up before putting her hands behind the back of her head. “You got it. Holler if you need me” She began to turn around but did a full spin instead. She pointed matter of factly to Constanze with one finger and let the other hand fall. “Or, don’t, actually. That’s a good way for us to get caught.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze couldn’t help but chuckle. “Mmm.” She’d keep it in mind. Amanda smiled warmly for a moment more before leaving, shutting the door gingerly behind her. All levity drained from the room like the heat being sapped from a freezer. Amanda and Sucy really were beacons of hope, things she could hang onto in the darkest of times. Again, her mind went back to those moments within the Balefire itself. The burning chain; she understood it now. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“At least they seem to mean well.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Even if there was some greater scheme going on that involved The Nine Olde Witches and their lost legacies, Constanze couldn’t deny that they had good intentions. She remembered the sufferers pit, that place of bodies and chains, and while it was horrifying, Constanze began to understand that experience just as much as she understood the chains themselves. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“A warning.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her eyes drifted out to the blood stained snow. The soldiers and researchers had gone. The bodies were similarly missing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Can’t afford to forget it.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>How quickly the innocence of youth gave way to the deathly facts of reality; it was around every corner, if one wasn’t careful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a long few minutes of staring off into nothing, of thinking about nothing but the importance her found family had and the tranquility they brought to her torrential emotions, Constanze shook her head quickly. She had to snap herself out of idleness, despite the fact that her awareness allowed for the anger to resurface, for the sorrow and dread to creep back in.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Need to focus.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>It hurt. Everything hurt, but she had done nothing but feel hurt long enough. It was time to cauterize these wounds. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze stood up from the bed, cracking her knuckles individually and exhaling deeply, venting out one last wave of unavoidable rage before she got herself in gear. As she simmered silently beneath the skin, she began to tear the room apart, piece by piece, plank by plank. She was careful at first, knocking on specific parts to look for any hollow sections, but she soon lost her patience, and decided to take out her latent anger on the room itself, paying only the smallest of minds toward being quiet. It was tedious, but satisfying work nonetheless, to Constanze’s surprise. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“No wonder Amanda enjoys her work.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She had to admit, wrecking things hit differently than building things, and the result was ironically similar in an emotional, despite being wholly contradictory in the physical sense. Nothing would ever wholly replace the joys of creation though, not for Constanze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As her mind drifted to the subject of creation and destruction, all while she blasted open specific sections of the wall and tore open drawers to rifle through the contents, Constanze started to hear that damnable tune again. At this point, she didn’t even search for a source. She knew it was pointless. This spectre, this haunting melody of “pure music,” devoid of instrumental context, defied reason, and so she wouldn’t even apply reason to it. But, despite her dissmall of its existence, it did indeed have a source, not in the sense of something that was imitating the rhythm by happenstance, but as in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>location</span>
  </em>
  <span> from which it emanated from. Constanze initially ignored it, assuming some rat in the wall or other nonsensical event was sounding the rhythm unwittingly. That was, until she happened upon the section of the wall where it came most strongly from. She banged on it to try and check it’s contents: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thunk! Thunk!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Wait…. How?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> But that made no sense. Constanze checked the walls surrounding it; first the left, and then the right. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thunk! Thunk…! Thunk! Thunk!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Solid…. It’s all solid.” The other support beams were far too thin to be this thick, and nothing else about the geometry of the room suggested that this spot in particular required extra layering to keep things stable. She went from trying along a horizontal path to a vertical one. First she did the left and rightmost sections and found them solid all the way down. However, when she went to the center:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thunk! Thunk! Thoomp! Thoomp!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze squinted critically. Her heart began to race. “Hollow.” She stepped back and leveled her wand. The knuckle holding the wand steady whitened with intensity. A sharp inhale preceded the spell: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Murowa!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A flash of light, teal and arcane, left behind a small smoky cloud that quickly dissipated. When the dust dispersed, Constanze saw, against her best reasoning, but in favor of her most irrational hopes, a safe. Locked, weathered, and tucked away between extra wood frames; the container was installed into the home itself, and had likely been there for some time. Constanze let her wand wielding arm drop to her side and dangle freely. Her thoughts raced with explanations. She had come here in search of proof of her immediate blood family’s knowledge, or lack thereof, regarding the Order of The Balefire, but hidden safes could be for any number of salacious or genuinely important things. Her mind wandered as her body fell still. Her jaw slackened.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “It could be bank statements, their wills, private journal entries, evidence of murder, a cursed—Just open it.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Speculating only sent her down a dizzyingly absurd rabbit hole. She would let reality speak for itself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From motionless to bursting with speed, Constanze couldn’t stop herself anymore. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to know what lay inside the musical safe. She was singularly minded that she all but collided with the wall on the approach. Her hands shot up and grasped the handle desperately, allowing her wand to carelessly clatter to the floor. With every ounce of strength she had, Constanze pulled and yanked, pushing down and up, but to no immediate avail. The safe was locked tight, and she saw no signs of a combination amidst her rummaging. Breathing heavy, she let go and took a close look at the turnstile lock with only partly intended fierceness. That’s when she saw it: The telltale sign that this safe held all the things she feared and hoped it might hold. Around the dial, written in German, were four words: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This fire is ours.” The words practically jumped off of her tongue, but the way they sounded in the air was as a whisper; faint, yet heavy with disbelief. Constanze brushed a finger along the edge to wipe away any dust. She had to be certain that it wasn’t a trick of the light, a falsehood that her eyes projected onto the iron box. Alas, it was all too real. That same brushing hand came to linger by her mouth, partially covering it as she began to laugh wheezily. This wasn’t a “haha” kind of laugh, it was muddled, confused, split between sobbing and laughing. Tears did in fact form, and she allowed them too. A discovery like this warranted weeping. And that was just the engraving on the exterior. The contents within still remained a mystery, but they seemed almost secondary to the very fact that this proved that her family </span>
  <em>
    <span>must have known</span>
  </em>
  <span> about the order, the Balefire, the Bathorys, all of it!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And yet here Constanze stood, in the ruins of her home-town, in a place where corpses used to lay, felled at the hands of that whom she obsessively fixated on with all her rage, all her malice. The discovery was both right on time, and too late. Constanze put her palms flat against the wall, relying on it for the strength to support her as her knees and legs began to shake. She felt like collapsing in a heap, but she persevered, fueled by grief and rage alone. Her head hung down, her hair, messy, and nearly undone at the knot formed by her bow, obscured her face. A swatting gesture to get the hair out of her face loosed the bow, sending it to the ruined floor, letting her hair flow freely down to her waist. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her thoughts were a whirlwind. All calm sense had left her in those brief moments of unrestrained emotions. Her fingers clawed at the faded wallpaper as her flat hands turned to fists, her teeth ground down against each other, and her eyes were clenched tight enough to hurt. Time passed strangely. So much was thought in those moments that putting them into any coherent context was impossible. Eight different voices, eight different thought processes, having twenty four different conversations kept Constanze’s mind a blur of gibberish and TV static, all laced with the stinging sensations of acute grief and pain. None of it changed. There was no argument to be made or won, no great point to be had in the internal debate, only confusion, and the despair that comes with confusion. There remained only one course of action then: One to see this gridlock ended. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze looked up at the safe, peering through her draping bangs. The words replayed in her mind, over and over again, to the hypnotic, maddening tune that had been following her. Her breathing intensified. She wound back her right hand. Her readied fist coursed with every ounce of magic she could immediately muster. It glowed a bright grey and white. The safe, once snuggly lodged within the wall, began to rattle and oxidize. Rust took to it like a plague, leaving naught but a weak frame, and flakes to be whisked away in the wind. The remaining iron slid off of the crate like a living liquid, engulfing Constanze’s fist. One punch is all it took. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte had finally fallen silent. She sat on an aged wooden chair, slumped forward with her hands resting limping on her lap. Her gaze was downcast, focused on nothing in particular. Her lips were ever so slightly parted, allowing her to breath as quietly as a mouse might. Her mind was blank, because it had to be. If it wasn’t, she knew what she’d see playing over, and over, and over, and over, and—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I uh, hope you don’t mind icicle water.” Amanda had quietly approached from the side, having exited the barren kitchen to melt some ice that was hanging off of the roof; Lotte had requested a drink. She turned her head to Amanda and eyed the glass thoughtlessly. Out of pure muscle memory, Lotte reached for the glass and slowly brought it toward her chest. A cautionary sip tested the waters, but hardly a moment more was given before Lotte downed the whole glass. When she had finished, her arms fell to her sides, and the glass was dropped harmlessly to the floor, chipping faintly, and rolling away. Her breathing was heavy, as one might expect from someone who just drank an entire glass of water without stopping, but it quickly quieted down to that mouse-like level once she’d filled her lungs up. Her eyes slowly closed as stillness returned to her body.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda meanwhile had waltzed on over to the windows. She was peeking through the blinders, keeping an eye out for any nosy soldiers, and was relieved to find none. “Still clear.” She said beleagueredly as she turned around. That tired tone quickly faded once she saw Lotte. “Ehh—!? Jesus!” Amanda jumped back in surprise. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte’s eyes shot open. She felt a weight in her lap. Malitrix was sitting there now, looking in her direction. Lotte gasped and nearly fell back in her chair in fright. Her flailing was enough to knock Malitrix off of her lap, though Lotte quickly recovered and scooped the skull off of the floor. “M-Mali! How did you…?” She held the old, gem encrusted remnant to her face, looking just as distraught as she was confused and annoyed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda leaned forward cautiously. “Didn’t we… leave him behind?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Er, she, and… we did, didn’t we?” Lotte looked down to Malitrix for an answer and got a singular blink in response. “Then, how… why…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda adjusted her jacket’s collar and cleared her throat. “I, uhh, may have forgotten to mention, but last night, she totally… kinda... teleported.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She what!?” If Malitrix’s goal was to spook the trauma away from Lotte, then it was working; she was wholly distracted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda’s shoulders loosened up. “Well it was only across the room! Not like, across a whole freakin’ block!” She started to laugh weakly, as if Malitrix was pulling some sort of prank on them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“S-Still, why didn’t you say anything?” Lotte lowered Malitrix back down to her lap, looking now to Amanda. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Being completely honest: I forgot.” Amanda stated it so matter of factly that it had to be true. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even so, that wasn’t exactly comforting to Lotte, but it wasn’t disquieting either. She had </span>
  <em>
    <span>many</span>
  </em>
  <span> questions about Malitrix, and those questions would only grow as time went on. She was capable of speaking outside of seances, clearly, but in a much more limited form. And now she could teleport. “But why?” Asked Lotte, brushing Malitrix’s dome piece free of dust. “Why did you come over here?” Erratic, morse code like flashes followed, though anyone who actually knew morse code would read it as gibberish. Lotte sighed. “We really need to find a way for you to talk to us more often….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda hummed and crossed her arms about her chest. “Maybe this sounds weird, or maybe not, but she did it when I was talking out loud about… stuff. Heavy stuff.” Amanda didn’t want to get into it with Lotte; the Finnish witch had enough on her plate, and this was hardly the time or place. “I asked her back there why she was acting all weird, and she blinked once when I asked if she was trying to talk to me. Then she, well, scared the shit out of me.” Amanda paused. “Hey, wait a second! Didn’t you agree you’d give a warning before you did that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Lotte didn’t realize Amanda was talking to Malitrix regarding that whole warning thing. Of course, no response came, so Lotte pushed on. “N-Nevermind that! Do you…. Why do you think she was trying to talk to you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda sighed, leaning back against the wall. “I dunno. Maybe she was trying to comfort me. She even followed me and Conz upstairs when we started talking.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte’s eyes drifted down to Malitrix. She needn’t say a word to beg the question, her look said it all. Malitrix blinked once when their eyes met. Now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, Lotte could tell that Malitrix was indeed humane, if not human. She had only known this skull, the spirit within, for about two weeks or so, and yet it showed great concern and care for not just Lotte, she who promised to bring it to Fulvula, wherever that may be, but to Lotte’s friends. It was difficult to parse emotion from yes and no responses, but the wider context made Lotte feel both loved and, strangely, </span>
  <em>
    <span>angry</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was just another burden that she imposed onto others, all because she had only tagged along, and never led, so she thought. First it was the physical burden: Her safety. Now it was her mental well being that needed tending to. But Lotte was not an ungrateful person, so she could only feel appreciation for Malitrix’s concern. That did nothing to quiet her self centered frustration though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> This dissonance of thought muddled her mind, and made the search for words difficult. In the end, she took too long to even think up where to take this conversation next, for the sounds of creaking floorboards from the stairway drew all attention to the living room. The steps were slow, meticulous, and heavy; Constanze was coming back down. Lotte and Amanda shared a brief look of mixed emotion before they each took off for the living room at brisk paces. Even Malitrix, emotionless as the skull may have looked, was intrigued by what would follow. What the trio found was Constanze partway down the stairs, her eyes cast toward the kitchen entrance where the group emerged from, holding a stuffed Manilla envelope close to her chest in one hand, and carrying a strangely shaped piece of stone in the other. Amanda and Lotte came to a halt, though they said nothing. The ever so slight tinge of red to Constanze’s face,  the painful smile that graced her face, and the long, uncouth flow that her hair had taken with the absence of her abandoned, trademark pink bow, stunned them. Despite the telltale signs of having shed tears, Constanze’s voice was anything but weepy; she was firm, direct, to the point, and fierce. “Got what I need.” Before Amanda could even question her state of wellbeing, Constanze cut her off and continued on toward the door, not even bothering to hide herself from the wider world. “Let’s go.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, hey, wait!” Amanda raced after her sister, shooting her wand up into the air and calling on the stealthy spell that had seen them through the town of Ludinghal. Constanze glanced back and paused, but only for a moment. Once Amanda and Lotte had caught up, Constanze wasted no time in leading them back to her childhood home. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>About ten minutes later….</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze had confined herself to her room for a few minutes, and went as far as to entrust the envelope and stone to Amanda and Lotte. She needed to cool down before she even thought about diving into those secret documents and trinkets. Luckily for all of them, that peace of mind came easier than expected. Constanze had worked out her emotions back in the room with the safe, or rather, she let loose enough of her emotional energy to feel numb. Numbness was better than rage though, at least in Constanze’s eyes. She had fallen into a stonewalled, neutral state, one that finally felt ready to face the music, both literally, and figuratively. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She arose from her bed and took a moment to brush her still messy hair behind her shoulders before she gathered up a note she’d already written. It said: “Come in. Bring the envelope, the stone, and a table.” From her bed, Constanze strode over to the shut door, slipped it through the crack, and then stepped back. There was rustling and whispering from beyond the threshold, but she paid no mind to it. In time, Amanda and Lotte made their presences known with a knock. “Enter.” And so they did. This time, Lotte brought Malitrix with them, as to avoid more unwanted jumpscares. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Quietly, the three entered. First came Lotte, who set Malitrix down on the dresser next to the model mecha. Once everyone had looked away from Malitrix, her skull had turned toward the model, as if baffled and entranced by it. Meanwhile, Amanda carried in a comically small table in one hand while holding the stone and envelope up by her chest with the other arm. She set the table down first, drawing her wand up from her belt and flicking it in the small surface’s direction. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Maximozious.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> A puff of magic obscured the table as it grew back to a more reasonable size. Amanda waved her wand wielding hand around to disperse the cloud while she set down the envelope and stone. “There.” She huffed. “You sure you want us to stay?” Constanze nodded firmly, and so Amanda returned the gesture. “Then let’s crack this baby open. You wanna do the honors?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Again, Constanze nodded. “Mhm.” She approached and took the side of the square table that was left of Amanda and opposite of Lotte. She regarded the envelope for a brief moment before summoning up the strength to take it into her hands so that she might undo the binding. A simple twist of the metal prongs followed by a harsh tear of the top flap saw the contents spill out onto the surface. Constanze discarded the envelope itself to the bed before she put her palms flat on the desk and leaned over it. Amanda took a more casual stance, leaning on one elbow while bent to the side she leaned on, holding her chin with her free hand. Lotte on the other hand was still shaken up. She merely stood upright, held her hands by her waist, clasped together tightly, and looked down at the papers blankly; her attention was somewhat elsewhere, although she was trying to stay focused on the matter at hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, where do we start?” Asked Amanda. Lotte opened her mouth to speak afterward, but thought better about it. She had almost no context, and she’d already spoken ill of Constanze earlier, and that regret hadn’t left her mind, but the horror of seeing a corpse like that for the first time made the matter seem trivial up until now. She’d hold her tongue until she had something “valuable,” to say, though she harshly judged most of her words as “not valuable.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On the other hand, Constanze spoke nothing not for lack of things to say, but because she didn’t have a concrete answer to the question. Her eyes went from paper to paper, document rto document, and each new one was just as tantalizing and paradoxically insulting as the last. Eventually, her eyes focused on another envelope, small and white, that had been sealed within the larger manilla package. She reached for it, flipped it over to the front, and found that it had been addressed to her: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Zu Constanze Amalie Von Braunschbank-Albrechtsberger.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A smaller note, similarly written in German, was beneath the address. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Am glücklichsten Tag geöffnet werden.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> A separate statement, written in different handwriting, accompanied the first. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>(Oder der Schlimmste Tag).”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s it say?” Squeaked Lotte.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Open on the best of days.” Constanze frowned. “Or the worst of days.” Quiet sighs were had all around. Constanze flipped the envelope over and over again, searching for any other notes or sign of tampering. When none presented themselves, she endeavored to tear it open with her finger. The old crease broke easily, having clearly been sealed years ago, giving time for the adhesive to fade in terms of strength. The paper itself that she pulled out from the envelope was similarly faded, but still legible. Constanze unfolded it and read its contents aloud: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dear Constanze,</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If you’re reading this, then one of two (three) things have happened. We’ll start with the more positive reasons first. The best reason you’d have to read this is the fact that you’ve graduated from Luna Nova! Congratulations on becoming</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda interrupted. “Wait a second, I know they knew that you were going, but do we have a date for this letter?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze hummed inquisitively. She skipped to the end, finding the signatures of her aunt and uncle, but no date. “Mm-mm.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“M-Maybe it says later on….” Lotte shifted uncomfortably. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze continued:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Congratulations on becoming a fully blooded witch! We couldn’t be more proud or happy, and if we’re being honest, you’re probably reading this in front of us right now! (Give us a wave, Amalie!)”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The parentheticalled contents appeared to be written in Aunt Gertrand’s handwriting based on the signature at the end. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Now, if that isn’t the case, then there’s two remaining reasons for why you’d be reading this: First, you’ve not graduated Luna Nova, but have otherwise become the grown, sharp witted, and strong woman we always knew you’d become. Maybe you’re a witch, or maybe you left magic in favor of pure mechanics. (Or maybe you became a painter! Who knows!) But regardless, you’ve grown up, and we’re happy for you. We also think that we have no right to hide anything from you because of that. Lastly, and worst of all, something terrible has happened. Either, one of us is hospitalized and in critical condition, one of us has been diagnosed with a terminal illness, or we are already deceased. (If we are indeed alive and well, ignore this section. If we have sadly passed, or are on our way out the door, keep reading.)”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze looked up from the letter grimly. Amanda stood upright and rounded the table to put an arm about her sister. She was ultimately shrugged off, but Constanze silently appreciated the effort. Amanda returned to her spot, offering a nod of affirmation, one that Lotte reciprocated; they wanted her to continue. Constanze breathed aloud. Her chest swelled and deflated. After a moment, her eyes went back down to the page. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“If one of us is about to die in the hospital, please, stop reading this and gather up whichever of us is still alive. If your father and mother want to come as well, they can, but we want you to read the rest of this (and experience the other pieces we want to show you) together.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze shook her head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“If one of us is terminally ill, then come visit us. We imagine that we’ll still have time left on the clock in this case, so we can take this at our pace. If one or both of us is dead however, then please, gather whatever family you have from your father’s side and go through these contents together. If my dad, the squawking curmudgeon that he is, is still kicking, then one, kick him for me, (don’t actually kick him, remember his bad knee!) and two, ask him to help explain things. And if he isn’t, then ask your father. If all else fails (and the worst has really happened), then you’ll have to read this alone.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze felt something catch in her throat as she read that last line. Amanda leaned over the table somewhat, her expression advising caution. “Take your time. It-It’s no rush.” Commented Lotte. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze adjusted the paper, flattening the creases, if only to busy her hands. She realized that stimming would help her greatly in processing this, so she held her left hand out in Amanda’s direction. “Tool. Please.” Amanda gave a quick thumbs up before producing a small power drill from Constanze’s sack. She set it on the table with the untipped head facing toward her sister who immediately began to turn and twist the screwable head-piece, creating a pleasant clicking and ticking noise as she did so. After a few moments of calming stimulation, Constanze pushed onward with the letter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“We’re truly sorry, regardless of what has happened. You don’t deserve this hardship. We know you’ve suffered enough. That won’t change reality though, and we’ve always got to face the day, don’t we? (That question was rhetorical, Amalie!)” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze couldn’t help but crack a faint smile at that. Aunt Gertrand was always so very lighthearted. Before Constanze continued, she noticed a note broke up the page.</span>
  <em>
    <span>“(Skip to here if we’re ok Amalie!)”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She didn’t read it aloud. Continuing with the letter proper:</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Anyways, before you continue, if no one else is present with you, then read these words carefully. Ingrain them into your brain. You don’t have to accept them, but you do have to understand them. Our family, your father’s side, the Von Braunschanks, has a long, long history of working with what is essentially a secret society. (Not the spooky cult like kind, we promise!) It is called, or it was called, The Order of The Balefire. It is a collection of witches, mundane folks, Fae, and even monsters who come together for one unifying purpose: To fight off the forces that our world faces which threaten to destroy or despoil it.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze paused to catch her breath, as she’d forgotten to amidst her stimming and reading.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “We know that sounds like something out of those cartoons and monster movies you used to watch as a kid, (you probably still watch them!)</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze, for sake of mood, omitted that comment from the late Aunt Gertrand, even if it was true.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>But we’re being honest. Maybe it sounds just too grand, and we’ll admit, it probably does. To break it down, think of it like this: Are tyrants threatening people with tyranny? (Jo’s still not very creative with his wordplay, is he?)” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Again, that note was omitted. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“If so, then the Balefire tried to fight them. If there were monsters prowling about that posed a threat to the lives and well being of people or regions, then the Balefire got involved in that too. You can probably see where this is going. The order fought for people who couldn’t fight for themselves. (And it taught them how to fight for themselves!) That is what our family was a part of. That is what this letter is meant to tell you about. Inside the big yellow envelope that we’re stuffing all of this stuff in, you’ll probably have already found a ton of pictures, opened letters, documents, all sorts of stuff. You can go through that at whatever pace you want, except for two things that we want to focus on. The first is our family legend: The origin of the earliest Von Braunschbank that we know of. Based on the story, (regardless of whether or not it’s true), then that is the first member of our family who joined the order. Well, not him specifically, but his wife, because of reasons. (Our point is that you need to read that story! It’ll explain everything about that.)”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze looked up from the letter and stopped her stimming. She, along with Lotte and Amanda, began to scour through the piles of paper, until they found a particularly olde, magically preserved parchment. Lotte held it up in the air and parsed out the title from what German she knew. “The Tale of The Hammer and… the… does that say drake, or dragon?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dragon.” Constanze peered at the contents, skimming over it, but hardly committing much to memory. “Will read later. Going to finish the letter first.” Lotte nodded and rolled up the scroll in the center of the table. Constanze cleared her throat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“The second, and probably the most important thing, (besides this letter!) is the stone.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Everyone’s eyes seriously fell upon the jagged, but specifically geometrical stone. None of them had looked at it closely until now, but it was clearly something that had been carved into a very specific shape; a three dimensional symbol, flat on the sides, with a clear front and back. The symbol bore no meaning on its own, looking something like a braid of sorts engraved onto a loosely trapezoidal piece of stone. Constanze looked to the letter for answers: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s a key, plain and simple. It fits a larger mosaic beneath your father’s forge. Yes, you read this write, your father has a hidden chamber beneath his forge, and yes, he does know about it.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze sighed sharply. “Figures.” She almost felt more mad about her dream having some truth to it rather than her father holding back the secrets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Keep reading, there’s gotta be a reason for all of this somewhere in there.” Posited Amanda. “Considerin’ they intended for you to read this at some point, they obviously wanted you to know about it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Clearly not my dad.” Chided Constanze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“M-Maybe he was… in on the agreement?” Lotte adjusted her glasses. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Doubt it.” Constanze shook her head. “He wasn’t a witch. Didn’t like magic. Neither did mom.” A pause followed, Constanze reread the last line she went over carefully. “Maybe that’s why they had to keep this hidden….” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well we won’t know if you don’t keep reading.” Amanda grinned, though it faded fast. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Read the room, Amanda!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She thought to herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Constanze grunted hesitantly, but pressed on. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“The hidden chamber is also a forge. (Redundant, we know, but it’s different.) It’s a runic forge, the kind witch-smiths use. If you don’t know what a witch-smith is, then ask us if we’re alive, or your father if we aren’t able to answer. If you can’t ask anyone, then do some research and come back to this when you’re ready. (You’re a smart woman! We know you’ll dig up what you need to.) One way or another, a witch-smith is something that many of our family members have been. Not all of them, some of them have been hunters, (the other kind of member in the order), but witch-smithing runs as a strong tradition of ours. It’s why your grandfather ran a forge, why his mother ran it before him, and why your father runs it now. There’s a big difference between your grandfather, great grandmother, etc, and your father though. Your dad didn’t want to be associated with magic.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The next section seemed to be exclusively penned by Uncle Johanne. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I know I shouldn’t speak for my brother, but I also know that he’s not exactly a guy who’s good at speaking for himself.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze felt a knot begin to form in her chest.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “He had it rough. So did I, but he’s the eldest, and he had it worse because of that. You see, the forge in Ludinghal has always been one passed down to the eldest descendent of each generation, but your father distrusted magic. Now, part of that was because he wasn’t very good at it, but also because he no doubt resents dad, as in your grandfather, about a few things. Like I said before, I probably shouldn’t speak for him, but I’ll say this much: Your dad wanted to go down a very different route with his life.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The knot only tightened as she continued. She choked on some words.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “He didn’t want to be a smith. He didn’t want to be a witch, or at least, not a witch-smith. But grandpa made him choose. Either he’d get disowned and kicked out upon reaching sixteen, or he’d ‘man up and be a real Von Braunschbank,’ as Grandpa might put it.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Silence followed. Constanze didn’t know exactly what to say to all this. Her mind went to her father, and all the wrong he’d done, but also toward all of the smiling and laughing they’d done together; when times were good. She’d seen the good man that sadly gave way to the bad more often than not, and to know that he too had faced abuse from his own father…. It didn’t make any of this easy, that’s for sure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damn…. Not to be rude, but, was your grandpa always, well, a dick?” Amanda had no other way to phrase the question; blunt and crude as she was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It snapped Constanze out of her minor trance. “Mmmm….” She forced herself to swallow down that growing knot. “Difficult. He was difficult. Old. Dated views. Not as bad as he could have been.” She paused, biting her tongue. “Dad mentioned… one time though, while he was… drunk.” Her eyes drifted down and to the side. “Said grandpa calmed down as he got older. Used to be worse…. Said I should be glad he ain’t like him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Constanze….” Lotte of course had known so little of what went on with Constanze’s family that every detail just made her feel worse and worse about accusing Constanze of selfishness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda winced at the mention of drunkenness, but otherwise let it slide off her back. “I guess even shitty people have a reason for being shitty sometimes.” She crossed her arms about her chest before spitting to the side. “Doesn’t excuse the shittiness though.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know….” Constanze nodded slowly. “Just wish he’d said something. Anything. Always yelled. Didn’t make sense…. Maybe I didn’t listen well.” A shiver ran up Constanze’s spine as old wounds made themselves known again and again. “Hard to when you’re young. Tuned it out.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It ain’t a kid’s job to be their parent’s therapist. You did nothing wrong.” Amanda verbally put her foot down; Lotte nodded fervently in agreement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know.” Constanze took a sharp breath, shook her head, and then refocused on the letter. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“So, as you might expect, your dad wasn’t exactly thrilled about his kid learning about magic either. It’s why he didn’t tell you any of it, why you had to figure it out on your own, (no matter how much we told him that you’d find it out one day, and that it’d be better if we just told you the Order up front when you were fifteen or so, and about magic when you could start to write), but that’s not how things went down. So here you are, and we are, wherever we and you are. Whatever the answer may be to that, do what you will. If we’re around, ask us anything you’d like. (And if we’re not, then go to the forge. Your father’s forge. If you’ve been keeping up with your magic lessons, at Luna Nova or on your own, you should be able to sense the mana-lock put on the floor; the space beneath your old workbench).”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your old… workbench?” Ask Lotte, tapping her chin curiously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze thumbed back over her shoulder and grunted. “Mmm, mm.” That was her way of saying: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll show you later.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Before she dove back into the letter; it was predominantly written by Aunt gertrand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“(Once you’re there, whether you’re aspiring to be a witch, a smith, a witch-smith, or something else entirely, take the hammer hanging on the wall. It’s a special hammer. It’ll look normal, but you'll know it when you see it. Or maybe you’ll hear it.)” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze raised an eyebrow at that comment, but pressed on, not wanting to get bogged down in the details.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “(Whatever the case, keep it safe. If you plan to take your father’s forge, then keep it down there, or use it yourself if you’d like; especially if you’re planning to be a witch-smith. I may have come from a different family, but even my mother had witching roots. Your uncle helped me find those roots, and now that I’ve uncovered all of that lost history, I can’t stress enough that you should do the same about your own. And Uncle Jo agrees).” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A break in the letter saw it transition back to Uncle Jo’s handwriting. The couple spoke in the collective plural. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“We know this must all be a lot to handle, but we also know that the kind of uncomfort you’re probably feeling is necessary. If we lived in a different world, then maybe we’d be able to raise you on these things, maybe things like magic and the order, and the olde way of doing things wouldn’t have to feel strange and archaic. But maybe, with someone like you knowing where you came from, maybe you’ll take up that torch and do something about this crazy world we find ourselves in.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda smirked. “I think you might be one step ahead of them in all of this.” Constanze turned her head up curiously, still holding onto hints of the smile. Amanda leaned an arm against the table once more. “We’ve got our first two stripes, don’t we?” She held up her right hand, showing the backside that Asgall had marked with the circle and crossed claw-marks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze her lips crease into a smile. “Mmm… we do, don’t we?” She examined her own right hand carefully. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“O-Oh, right, you guys joined the order.” Lotte had been given only scant details; it seemed a little inconsequential in the grander scheme. She hadn’t even really heard about all of the strangeness with the Balefire itself, let alone the promises brokered between Vaal and Jehanne. All stories to be told on the long journey toward Porthcurno. “Are those supposed to be things that show you’re a member?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.” Constanze nodded. “Temporary. Usually tattooed.” Briefly, her mind wandered to Asgall. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What the hell even happened to him and Maxwell?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She doubted that Maxwell would be able to contact either herself or Amanda by any conventional means, and while Asgall wielded strange, esoteric magicks, she had no idea if it had any capabilities in the realm of communication. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Just gotta hope.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anything else in that letter?” Queried Amanda.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm? Oh.” Constanze snapped back to the present and skimmed the letter. “Last part.” She received a gesture from Lotte and Amanda to proceed then. As she did, Constanze slowly felt her smile widen. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“If there’s anything we know will never change about you, it’s this: You never give up until the job’s done right.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She wasn’t without sorrow, but she was touched by the sentiment. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“This fire is ours. And now it’s yours too. We love you: Uncle Johanne and Aunt Gertrand.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda couldn’t help but smile too. As Constanze finished off the letter and folded it up, Amanda passingly pondered on what others might see in her that they’d never want to see changed. On what </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> saw in herself that she never wanted to change. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Good to know shit like that ain’t all bad….”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By then, Constanze had stowed the letter back in the previously discarded manilla envelope. Her attention was returned once again to the table, and while her smile had begun to fade, her focus was now laserlike. Her eyes flicked between the stone and the scroll. “Forge, or story?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda shrugged. “I dunno. It’s your family. You decide.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Umm….” Lotte was still hesitant to say anything substantial, but since she’d been asked: “I think we should ch-check for the forge first. They said it was special, er, runic, I mean, and that there was a hammer you needed to get.” Anxiously, Lotte parsed over a few random photos and documents, only to remember she wasn’t very good at reading German. “I don’t know m-much about witch-smithing, but maybe that hammer and forge are what you need to do it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmmmm….” Constanze sifted through the papers as well, searching for anything that might speak of the hidden forge, though she couldn’t find any sign of that from a cursory glance. Then it hit her: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Or maybe you’ll hear it.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She heard Aunt Gertrand’s voice read the words aloud in her mind. Then came Asgall: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“The smith follows the rhythm known only to them; the forge-song, as Vaal called it.” </span>
  </em>
  <span> And so came the tune; blissful and pure: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Two three one two three three one two three two three one two three two three one two three three….</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It started from everywhere, as it did before, but then it started to sharpen. It was coming from the doorway leading out of the room. Constanze’s eyes widened, her jaw tightened, her expression became confused, afraid, but hopeful. Lotte and Amanda took notice. “Oi, sis, what’s wrong?” Said the latter while checking over her shoulder to look at the door. “There’s nothing there.” Despite the statement, Constanze reached for the stone and began to follow the tune that only she could hear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte took a few steps in pursuit, holding her hands close to her chest.“C-Constanze?” She was afforded no response.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hellloooo? You ok?” Amanda’s waving was similarly ignored, though when Constanze reached the door, she offered a gesture of the thumb, pointing them outside, beckoning them to follow. Amanda sighed. “Oh boy…. This better not get weird.” Amanda followed right behind her sister.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, hey! Wait up!” Lotte had to collect Malitrix, who had gotten into an intense staring contest with an inanimate toy, before she rejoined the sisters in the living room. She and Amanda followed Constanze through the house, out the side door, onto the raised stone walkway, and across it toward the semi-open aired forge. It was a sort of stable-like building with a face that had little in terms of walls with a street-facing slope to the roof. Two anvils, a smelter, grinding stone, and desks filled with tools and various documents gave the space a rustic character. Overall, Ludinghal had that sort of quaint feel to it, before the attack of course, but some of the homes had more modern aesthetics, and so the Von Braunschbank forge remained as one of the last vestiges of an older era. Now, in the wake of the ash, the dust,the ruins; under the floodlights of passing helicopters and the scrutiny of patrolling soldiers, that sentiment was truer than ever.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All of that fell out of Constanze’s focus though: She was solely fixated on a room in the back right corner of the forge. It was small, maybe the size of a large janitorial closet, but quite long looking from without. The door remained shut, locked even, and so when Constanze went to open it and failed, Amanda stepped in and worked her magic; the </span>
  <em>
    <span>other</span>
  </em>
  <span> kind of magic. The kind that used bobby pins, screwdrivers and the like. A few moments later, their way was opened, allowing the musty air inside the would-be shed to escape, and silencing the tune that emanated from the room for a time. The trio coughed or waved their hands before their faces while turning away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eugh, it smells like mold!” Lotte pinched her nose with one hand and held Malitrix in the other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Honestly sis, how long has this place been shut for?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze coughed hoarsely. “Uch…! Since I left? Ach!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure seems like it!” Amanda chuckled and coughed all at once. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A-Allow me.” Lotte pushed forward into the dark room, spotting the shape of a table in the shadows as she went on. She set Malitrix on it and drew her wand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Aroma Aroovia Cassadonia!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her nasally sounding spell brought lavender pinks and purples to the tip of her wand. It began to glow before a gas started to drift off of it, as if it were burning. The fragrant gas dispersed the moldy air, replacing it with the fresh scent of flowers in springtime. “There.” Said Lotte with a sigh of relief after having released the pinch on her nose. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now to find that secret entrance.” Amanda cracked her knuckles idly, then her neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Beneath my workbench….” Constanze muttered as she entered the room. Mid-way through, she paused, flicked her wand, and brought light to the room from a single, dingy bulb that was lodged in the ceiling. The light revealed a well stocked, but terribly dusty little workspace. It wasn’t made for much beyond simple projects, but it also showed signs of being pushed to its limit. Even as a child, Constanze was aspiring toward heights she’d reached only away from home. The tools were varied and many, the parts complex and meticulously ordered, and a small drawing board kept blank paper ready for blueprint and sketch work. Two other desks, one on the left by the entrance, and one on the right, carried all of the amenities, while the desk at the back end of the room served as the workbench proper. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda whistled. “I know it’s nothin’ compared to the bunker you got at Luna Nova,” Which Amanda never questioned the existence of, likely for the better. “But this ain’t half bad for someone who was like, fourteen or something.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ten.” Quipped Constanze as she set aside the stone chunk beside Malitrix.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Lotte and Amanda glanced at Constanze strangely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I started when I was ten.” That didn’t do much to clear up the confusion; if anything, it added more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your family let you use power tools when you were </span>
  <em>
    <span>ten</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Lotte blinked thrice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You… weren’t?” Constanze’s left brow raised in suspicion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda palmed her face. “Not to be a bitch, sis, but did you like, hang out with </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> other kids when you were young?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you?” Constanze crossed her arms and squinted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of cour—!” Amanda fell quiet. Contemplation took over her face before she opened her mouth again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Siblings don’t count.” Amanda’s mouth closed again. A half serious sneer replaced the contemplative look Amanda had a few moments ago as she marched on through the door and threw her hand sup lazily in the air. Constanze rolled her eyes and pressed on. “Focus.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah…. So what’re we looking for specifically?” Amanda got down to one knee and began to check the floors and walls, looking for any out-of-place stones. That was the most common way to find a secret at Luna Nova at least; and some other ruins as well, though most were far more creative. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lotte similarly had busied herself with searching. She was checking the wood ceiling for any markings, but the dim light offered little aid in that department. “Umm, I think the letter mentioned a mana-lock, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmhm.” Constanze approached her workbench and examined the floor. She saw a clear-as-day crease where the hatch was meant to open; by some means, the stone floor itself would part. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Can’t believe I never noticed….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The tune began again, inviting her downward, deep into the earth. If she had more legs, she’d kick herself, literally. “Mmmm. Mmm mm.” Her grunts and gentle beckoning aimed toward the workbench signaled for her friends to help move it aside. As a team, they heaved and hoed the thing away from the back wall until they had turned it fully sideways. As they all caught their breath, Constanze examined the crease again. “Here.” A square cutout marked the floor; no bigger than three feet by three feet, just enough for one person at a time to squeeze down into it when opened. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well that was easy.” Amanda brushed her pants off casually. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-It’s still locked though.” Lotte knelt down once more and moved to put her hand on the cut-out surface, but she had to retract it quickly when a blue flame sparked, singing her palm. “Ow!” Lotte looked at her palm, glad to find that it was hardly a noteworthy burn, but no less startled by the sudden jolt of pain. “Stupid mana-lock, why did they have to trap it?” She pouted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze pursed her lips. “Never seen a runic forge.” She stepped to the side, pulled a hammer from the wall, and then held it to the trap door. It too was zapped by a crackle of blue flame, though it being a metal hammer meant nothing much became of it. The flame remained until Constanze pulled the hammer back, prompting her to hum. “Schwester.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Amanda paused. “If you’re asking if I know how to pick mana-locks, then the answer’s no.” But she wished it was yet, and not just for the convenience such a skill would offer in the immediate moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm…. Lotte.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y-Yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Familiar with mana-locks?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kind of, but, not like, a lot. That’s more Sucy’s thing.” Lotte licked one of her fingers before applying the wet digit to the burned spot on her palm. “I could try and reveal it, but it might be hard to single out the source.” The amount of contrarian magical energies floating about had been muddying the trio’s arcane senses since they arrived; it would make finding any one particular flow of energy quite difficult. “But it’s worth a shot…. I guess.” Lotte gulped down another lump of anxiety as she drew her wand and held it over the hatch. She closed her eyes slowly and took a deep breath before she began to whisper soft incants. Soon after she began, streams of color, blue, green, white, red, and purple, all began to form in a hazy mist like streaks in the air. They crisscrossed and mish-mashed into each other from every conceivable and inconceivable angle until all but indiscernible color remained; a moldy grey. That was, until Lotte properly intervened. She pushed her wand into the cloud and gently dragged it along through the air. She stopped only when she had felt resistance; her wand had been snagged, as if caught in a bit of loose stitchwork in a blanket. Her incanting became loud enough to be heard. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Bariva, buriva…. Burivo, barivo….”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte’s grip upon the wand tightened, and she began to pulled up and back, tugging on the magical thread she’d plucked from the weave. There was a struggle to be had, though not one that tested her physically, but mentally. She needed to fixate on that thread and that thread alone. Any other thoughts would see her losing the trail, and she’d need to start over. A bead of sweat ran down her scrunched up face, and her incanting fell quiet shortly after. At last, after a silent few moments, Lotte nearly fell over as her wand broke free of the mist. She had to hold her other hand out just to keep herself kneeling upright, but despite the sudden force, Lotte had done it. A blue strand of magical thread wrapped around her wand was held high for all to see. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda clapped her hands together once. “Nice one Lotte!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mm.” Constanze gave a thumbs up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hah…. Hah…. Thanks….” Lotte gasped for air. There was actually so much magic in the air that it felt like she was being suffocated when she tried to mentally wade through the haze of auras. “So….” As Lotte began to speak, the grey cloud of magic dispersed, leaving only the blue tether to Lotte’s wand that drooped down like a string toward the floor. “Now I just need to….” She grunted and repositioned herself to not be so bent over backward. “Reveal the lock, and we </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> be able to have… some idea of… how to make the key.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It can’t be that hard to fake a mana-key, can it?” Mused Amanda. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte pensively inhaled before speaking the final incant. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Relvorio.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The simple spell gave shape and form to the string. Where it once terminated unceremoniously in the stone, it now began to weave and thread itself along the floor, spreading out like hundreds of little worms. Together, each of the strands formed a grand tapestry, a singular, circular symbol; a burning lance crossed with a hammer to make an uneven X, overshadowing a serpentine creature, a Dracolid of sorts, whose jaw was agape and wide toward the heavens, and whose coiled, legless, but winged body sat wrapped around a mountainous shape. A sword pierced its neck. Blood spilled from the wound, down the mountain, and into the forefront of the image, terminating in a river mouth that sat just below the cross hammer and lance. Outside of the ring, a singular strand began to weave a sentence in olde Germanic dialectic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze read it aloud as it formed: “Speak... aloud our... creed…. And enter.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Where Lotte and Constanze fell silent, stumped by the message, Amanda heard the voice of Jehanne. Perhaps  it was a memory, or perhaps Jehanne spoke in the present: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Go and bear the torch well, good hunter, lest darkness consume all. Remember well our creed.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Then came Maxwell’s voice, overlaid with Amanda’s own. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“All that is demanded of those who seek to defeat evil, is that….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>It all fit together. Amanda snapped her fingers. “Conz! That’s it!” Constanze and Lottedflinched. Amanda was louder than she thought she was. “Oh, shit, my bad! But I mean it: I know the creed!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You….” Constanze’s gaze drifted from Amanda to the symbol. She read the words silently again. “Creed….” The word bounced around her muddled brain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Constanze could piece it together, Lotte made the connection. “Oh! Oh!” Her eyes went wide with realization. “The creed Jehanne told you!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda grinned. “Bingo! Hehe!” Constanze tightened her hands into fists and pumped one of them in place, grunting with approval. She would let Amanda do the honors. “Alright…. Ahem….” Amanda struck her chest twice with the side of her fist before speaking in an uncharacteristically dignified tone: “All that is demanded of those who seek to defeat evil, is that they stand up, and fight.” The words rang out, but nothing happened. Not immediately, at least. The trio waited patiently, suspecting that the mana-lock would take time to unwind itself, but still, nothing happened. “Oh for fucks sake!” So much for dignified. “Come on you stupid lock!” Amanda shot a murowa bolt at it only for the spell to fizzle out harmlessly against the symbol. She groaned annoyedly. “Ugh…. Well I’ve got nothing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze was almost about to give it up too, but Lotte’s puzzle solving skills came to the rescue. “Say it in German!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why would—Oh…. Wait….” Amanda cranked the gears of her brain for a hard moment until it clicked. “Yeah…. Yeah that’s it! Sis! Say it in German!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze summoned up a determined look and brought her fists against her chest. She nodded proudly to her sister and friend before she cleared her throat and spoke the words: “Alles, was von denen verlangt wird, die das böse besiegen wollen, ist, dass Sie aufstehen und kämpfen.” Immediately, the stone foundation began to tremble. Constanze and company all stumbled back. Lotte and Constanze respectively snatched up Malitrix and the stone chunk  as they reached the entrance of the room. The groaning of the stone as it shifted crackled outside of the room as the hatch began to rise up on its hinges, slowly leaning itself up against the back wall until a resounding </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Thunk!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>chimed the end of the magical movement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From the outside, the trio could see the dimly lit stairwell down clearly, but their eyes were else; they scanned the streets intensely, their hearts racing. After a minute of relative silence, with nothing of interest happening each of them collectively sighed. “Do they REALLY have to make all of the secret passageways so fucking loud!?” Amanda was getting tired of the close calls. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte couldn’t agree more. “Doesn’t it… defeat the purpose of being secret if it’s super loud…?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ughh….” Constanze palmed her face after strapping her wand to her belt. She gave the road one last exhausted look before speaking. “Still invisible, right?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte nodded. “We should be. The spell lasts for a few hours…. Er, three, I think.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze pursed her lips. “Been here about thirty minutes. Set a timer. Can’t risk it running out without us knowing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“About that….” Lotte rubbed the back of her head. “I don’t have any more diamond dust to renew the spell, so we don’t have a lot of time here.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda quirked her head, hands on her hips. “Eh? Three hours is plenty!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze shot her sister a knowing look. “Remember what Maxwell said: Witch-Smiths use runic forges for their work. Might not have another easy chance to repair the swords. No idea how long it could take.” She gestured to the house once she saw uneasy recognition settle on Amanda’s face. “Please get them. The swords. Need them.” Wordlessly, Amanda agreed, ran off, and disappeared into the home. Meanwhile, Constanze gestured gently to the hidden passage. “Mmm.” She grunted. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Let’s go.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The song was calling to her. She couldn’t keep it waiting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shouldn’t we…?” Lotte’s question went unheard; she had whispered it too quietly, and Constanze was already starting toward the stairs. “Ohhh….” Lotte followed suit, setting Malitrix down on the way and bringing her wand up to around head height. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Luminos.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A twinkling light at the end of herwand cleared up the shadowed descent, revealing a surprisingly deep, steep decline. “How far down is this forge supposed to be?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both Lotte and Constanze held a hand up against the wall, just to be safe. The steps were stone, but they were also quite damp with moisture. “Mm-mmmm.” The latter shrugged, minding the claustrophobic nature of the chasm. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“The one time I’m glad to be short.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The two witches stopped about half way down the flight once they saw the bottom begin to reveal itself thanks to Lotte’s light. “Must be big.” Constanze posited. “Or they needed the space for venting.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Venting? As in, the fumes from the smelters, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oi!” Amanda called out from above as she ran down the stairs too fast for Constanze’s or Lotte’s comfort. The black case was in her arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Careful Amanda! It’s slippery!” Lotte’s warning stopped Amanda right in her tracks, just as she was about to wipe out and maybe break something on her way down. A bit of wobbling on her part made Lotte almost have a heart attack, though, once Amanda stabilized, Lotte pouted. “Damnit Amanda! Why can’t you be more careful!?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What!? I didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> slip!” Amanda almost wanted to say that Lotte sounded like Hannah.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm!” Constanze’s grunt demanded their focus, and so Amanda cut the chatter and rejoined the group. “Come on.” With Constanze leading the pack, the three made their way down to the bottom of the passage. They were immediately met with a blockage: The door the letter described stood before them and the forge itself. It was marked by the symbol that the mana-lock sported, though the encompassing circle was a braid rather than a singular line. The spot where a piece was missing stood out at the bottom; the stone Constanze held would fit it perfectly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They already had a mana-lock, did they really need to have this too?” Queried Amanda as Constanze approached the door and worked out slotting the piece in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just because you couldn’t break it doesn’t mean someone else couldn’t have.” Lotte didn’t intend to come off as snarky as she did, but she was weary, and tense nerves were doing her social awkwardness no favors. The sudden glow from the door silenced any further arguing though, as it drew Amanda and Lotte’s attention forward. The symbol lit up once the missing piece had been added. It glowed brightly and blue before parting down the center and giving passage into the final chamber. Before they pressed onward, Lotte brought light to the chamber. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Luminos Ellera.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her wand-light shot out from the point of origin like a star and bounced around the interior room, offering flashes and glimpses of the forge and its equipment, until it landed upon three different candles, granting them an unnaturally bright source of light given the size of the magical flame. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At last: The legacy of the Von Braunschbanks revealed itself to the last of their line. The forge was cobwebbed, but preserved by arcane means. An anvil, proud, ancient, and wrought from a twinkling sort of metal, sat in solitude in the middle of the room. To its left, the smelter stood ready with ever-burn coals filling the furnace, and three different melting half-pipes that led out into interchangeable moldings. Its chimney stretched up into the ceiling, proving Constanze’s theory on needing the space for ventilation. Buckets to be filled with water stood beside the forge proper, and on the farthest wall, by a bench that carried most of the tools and raw materials that yet remained in this olde place, a hand pumped spout offered access to a nearby spring. The bench itself was cluttered, but in a way that made sense, at least to Constanze. She herself was much more traditionally organized than her father, but the way everything was laid out reminded her of the way her father had everything put away; a method to the messiness, as it were. On the wall just behind it, most of the heavier tools dangled, with the most important taking center stage: A hammer of mithril head and wooden handle, glinted in the magical light that Lotte had cast. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The trio took a moment to appreciate it, Constanze especially, while Amanda set her case of sword down on one of the stools near the glimmering anvil, and Lotte examined the smelter and furnace. Constanze was, of course, immediately drawn to the hammer. She drifted across the floor, feeling weightless, stepping to a tune unheard to all but her. It was coming from the hammer: That was what had been “singing” to her this whole time, ever since they left The Balefire of Caledonia, and maybe even before that. Constanze let her eyes wander on the artifact, taking in its every detail. It was a blacksmith’s hammer, as one may expect. Its shape was simple, but it bore a few notable details. The mithril head of course stood out, and the hammer-piece itself was rather thinly shaped. The front head was octagonal in design, while the back end was more like a pry-bar one might see on more modern hammers, though it lacked the V-shaped indent. At the top center of the mithril head-piece, a bright teal gemstone was crusted over where the wooden haft slotted itself, and while it may have appeared to be merely an aesthetical addition, Constanze recognized the mineral as Lunaracite; a sort of compressed carbon, not dissimilar to diamonds, but found exclusively on moons, or at least, it can only be formed naturally on moons. Shards of moons, both the Earth’s Own and even distant ones, have fallen to any number planets in the form of tiny meteorites and space dust, with Lunaracite being one of the few mineral compounds that was ever strong enough to survive burning up on entry to the atmosphere. It was exceedingly rare, and may as well have existed as a form of solidified, unfiltered, and unaspected magic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The last detail only became apparent when Constanze took up the hammer from the wall and brought it closer to her. Names. Dozens of them. They were inscribed upon the haft of the hammer, etched into wood by no tool, but by the hammer itself. Magic may have been all about, but this hammer outshined every other source, making it a beacon of energy amidst the chaotic sea of radioactive-like residue. Indeed, it was so strong in its presence, that Lotte was drawn to it. “C-C-Constanze…. Is that…?” She was almost beyond words. She had sensed the spirit within Malitrix not long after she’d received the skull, but the spiritual force within the hammer may as well have been screaming at her from the word “go.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda turned her head, brushed her palms against each other to clean them of dust, and raised a brow. “Did you guys find it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze slowly pivoted, presenting the hammer like a gift from the gods. “Mmmm…. Mm mm… mmmm.” She couldn’t vocalize what her mind thought: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“No. It found me.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was light in her grip, but heavy on her shoulders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte leaned in to examine it more closely. “What’s… what's that writing on it?” There had to be something more to the hammer than what meets the eye; Lotte refused to believe otherwise. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze held the hammer up to a nearby light and read the names aloud: “Angnes, Liutger, Eberhard, Emanuel, Wanda…. C-Christofer?!” The name stopped her dead in her tracks and shattered the tune in her mind. She nearly dropped the hammer in shock. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Constanze? What’s—!?” Lotte was cut short by Amanda’s hand over her mouth. She turned to face the American witch and saw her shaking her head, looking glum. Lotte’s eyes shifted to Constanze then and found her stricken with rage; a face that could only be understood to express betrayal. “Oh….” Amanda hadn’t known the name of Constanze’s father, but the tone of her voice, the way she regarded the hammer with disbelief and anger. It was obvious. However, where Lotte lacked context, she also had an idea. “C-Constanze…?” Amanda nudged her to be quiet, but Lotte shot her a stern look before nudging back. “Constanze, I think I can help c-clear this up!” She stepped forward then, having convinced Amanda to back off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze eyes remained stuck on the hammer, the engraving of the name Christofer specifically, but she did respond. “What would you be able to do…?” She couldn’t imagine anything that could be done about this. It was between her and her late father, after all. “He’s dead, and there’s no way to change that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte spoke as firmly as she could; she refused to be disregarded, intentionally or not. “There’s definitely a spirit in that hammer!” Her words weren’t loud, but they struck Amanda and Constanze like thunder. All eyes were upon Lotte now. “I can wake it up so it can talk to you! You can ask it whatever you want, and… and it might know why your dad’s name is on there!” Silence fell over the trio as Amanda and Constanze grappled with that possibility. Lotte urged them further: “I can even help you understand them! If we… if we find someone or something that the spirit can possess, then it should be able to talk to all of us, not just me!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda shifted her jaw from left to right. “She’s right. Somethin’ that old and that special has to have a spirit in it. Hell, it might even know how to properly witch-smith something.” Amanda wasn’t sure if the title of witch-smith could be used as a verb, but it sounded right in her head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze couldn’t deny those truths, but she also couldn’t deny the fear that came with confronting such a spirit. How would it judge her? What would it even be? These questions plagued her, but above all, she was worried about keeping her cool in the face of what may be a hard pill to swallow; the possibility that her father not only knew about the order, as Uncle Jo said, but that he denied Constanze that knowledge, while indulging in the very thing he supposedly rejected. She spent a few moments contemplating it, until ultimately she concluded: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Can’t run away from it forever.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her eyes drifted down to the hammer. She realized her fists were clenching it tightly, and so she forced them to go slack so as to relieve the undo tension. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ve come this far, and I’ve learned this much….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her mind focused again on her father, just as she did when reading the letter; the section Uncle Johann had written. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Maybe…. Maybe the spirit knows why dad was the way he was.” </span>
  </em>
  <span> The unanswered nature of her father’s abuse, both the abuse he delivered and received, made Constanze’s current reality all the more painful. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I need to answer it.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The answer wouldn’t free her of pain, but she could finally let loose floodgates and begin the end of this familial suffering. A sigh escaped her lips. She handed over the hammer to Lotte, who was stunned to realize that her more audacious move had actually worked, and spoke. “Just tell us how. What do we need to possess?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhh… ummm….” Lotte took the hammer up in her hands, it was lighter than she expected. “It depends. Let me…. I’m going to need to try and determine how powerful it is, otherwise… we might hurt it.” If the vessel was not great enough, the spirit would indeed feel a great deal of pain, and in turn, would destroy the entity it was possessing. It’d be like trying to stuff a rabid raccoon into a soup can; something was going to get broken, and something was going to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> angry. “Give me a minute.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda and Constanze glanced at one another. Amanda nodded first, and then Constanze. Having been given the go ahead, Lotte focused intently upon the hammer. She took a preparatory deep breath, gripped it tightly, and closed her eyes. She imagined the hammer in her mind, hummed the tune to her spirit-song, and ran her thumbs along the groove of the wooden haft, the mithril head. She did her best to conceptualize every groove, every etching, every angle and shape that the hammer took, and then looked deeper. The history of the hammer flashed before her eyes. Visions of fire, visions of struggle! She saw a great serpentine lizard rise above the trees, and she saw countless weapons, forged by the very hammer she was attuned to, raised in arms against the serpent. The hammer, shiningly brilliant, was held high into air, signalling the charge against the Dracolid creature. Then the vision shifted. The hammer was held in another’s hand, but the essence of the first wielder wasn’t gone. Their memories remained; a name was inscribed upon the hammer. On and on it went, flashes and images, without context or explanation, showing the centuries that the hammer had endured after centuries. It had been struck against a million or more weapons, and Nine willing, it would strike a million times more. Finally, having witnessed the weight of millenia, Lotte was faced by an ember, proud, yet lonesome in a sea of dark. Then came another ember, and another, until nearly a hundred flames had appeared. In one instant they were many, and in the next, they were one. The ember, now a burgeoning wildfire, stared back at Lotte from behind her eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte coughed up smoke. She dropped the hammer and reached for her throat, her lungs were burning up! The tool clattered to the floor, and Lotte similarly fell to her knees. “Lotte!” Amanda and Constanze yelled in unison, rushing toward her and holding her up by one arm each, even as Lotte continued to cough up puffs of black smoke. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Luckily, before she lost consciousness, Lotte was finally able to breathe again. She gasped desperately and continued to scratch at her throat. “Wa—! Water!” She croaked out while scratching at her throat. The sisters frantically looked about the room before Constanze spotted the spigot on the wall by the work bench. She sprinted over while Amanda kept Lotte steady. After heaving a bucket over, she pumped with all her might to fill it up. Amanda brought Lotte over, but before she could even consider trying to scoop the water into a canteen, Lotte broke away and dunked her head in the wide wooden bucket, splashing droplets about the floor. A few moments later, Lotte ripped her head out from the water, heaving and huffing with a red face. She slumped her back against the wall and continued to struggle for air, though without as much desperation now that she’d been able to soothe the burning in her throat. Amanda and Constanze knelt down beside Lotte, silently appraising her health. After a minute or so, she lifted her head and spoke to them. “We’re gonna need…. A really powerful vessel….” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A, What the hell does that mean, and B, Where are we going to get that from?” Amanda’s question was almost immediately answered when everyone blinked. Malitrix, of course, made herself known by appearing silently in Lotte’s lap while flashing her eyes wildly at the group. Constanze and Amanda both stumbled back onto their rears, yelping in surprise, while Lotte had the unfortunate luck of smacking her head back against the stone walls of the room. She immediately lurched forward, curling up with her forehead against the back of Malitrix’s skull, her own hands held the back of her now bruised head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Malitrix was surrounded by groaning and generally upset witches, and so she could only blink once, as if to ask: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, Lotte, you’ve got ten seconds to gimme an excuse to not crush this jumpscare skull before it gives us all a heart attack!” Amanda was halted from standing up by Constanze holding an arm out in front of her. “Sis, what gives?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s our vessel.” Malitrix blinked ecstatically in agreement with Constanze, to Amanda’s, but especially Lotte’s confusion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nnnnngh? How? Mali, you’ve already… you’re already a spirit… thing…. Ow! And why did you have to do that!?” The bruise wasn’t serious, but it sure did ache enough to make focusing difficult. “Ugh, whatever!” Lotte didn’t even pay attention to Malitrix’s response; her eyes were shut tight anyway, so she wouldn’t have seen the series of blinks. “You can’t just stuff a spirit into an object that already has one!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Malitrix tried to explain itself, but it hadn’t drawn enough power in to say much of anything. Constanze had an idea though: “Ghosts.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about ghosts?” Asked Amanda. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Malitrix is a ghost.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is she?!” Even Lotte didn’t know. She really had almost no experience when working with spirits that inhabited the remnants of dead things. She’d worked with plants of course, and sometimes those were dead, and sometimes they were alive, but plants and fungi seemed to fall into a more nebulous category when it came to the presence of a soul; magic structured itself differently in those things. When it came to human or animal remains though, Lotte had no idea how things worked. “Wait… seriously?” She finally managed to open her eyes only to find Malitrix staring up at her. She blinked once. “I mean… I… did have to do a seance to talk to her, but….” Lotte made a note to herself: She’d really need to study the spirits of the dead after all of this Bathory nonsense was said and done. “Does this mean you could actually hold the hammer’s spirit?” Malitrix blinked again. “But how? I saw… visions of people's lives: People who used the hammer. How is that spirit not a ghost when you are?” No response came at first, followed by a cryptic series of blinks that Malitrix ultimately knew to be pointless. Lotte could only sigh. “And you’re sure you’ll be powerful enough to contain it?” Malitrix blinked with finality. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Seems she’s volunteering.” Amanda didn’t know what to make of any of this. She’d resigned herself to just making sure nothing catastrophic went down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you do it, Lotte?” Constanze remained on point of course; this was everything to her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can....” Lotte assured as she groaned. “But I don’t know how this is going to affect Mali….” Her skullbound friend </span>
  <em>
    <span>seemed</span>
  </em>
  <span> confident and willing enough, but so much remained mysterious about her. “I guess we don’t really have another choice, so… here goes.” Lotte’s lips tightened. She rose up from the floor, grunting with effort, and set Malitrix on the workbench she’d fallen besides. A quick bit of wand work saw a ring of arcane, drawn from the air, surround the skull. After being handed the hammer once again, Lotte set it beside Malitrix, summoning up yet another circle to contain it as well. Once the two objects were contained within the rings, Lotte got to work connecting them. She wielded her wand like a feather pen, drawing out arcane lines in a flourishing floral pattern from the circumference of one ring to another. The two circles, once plain, became enmeshed with one another, now appearing as a sun and moon, bound together by root and vine, woven together to create a singular, unbroken shape. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a few minutes, when all of the preparations were said and done, Lotte set her wand along the drawn path between the two objects, placed a palm on Malitrix and the hammer, and sang her song. With her voice guiding it along, the spring would travel through her wand and the ritual circle toward Malitrix. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Awaken now oh sleeping souls,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your time has come to sing anew,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After only two verses, the hammer burst into flames. Lotte was startled, but to stop now would jeopardize the ritual, and could harm the spirit within. She was merely glad the fire did not burn. She continued, her voice somewhat fearful, while Constanze and Amanda watched on with awe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tell me your wonders, tell me your woes, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Come carry that weight with me….”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The fire, proud and many, unified as one, shot up Lotte’s right arm, and along her wand. It danced and licked at her face, obscuring her vision, though she did not falter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Together we meet, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Two dreams joined, complete, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Rise and be released....”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The song was complete, and so the fire completed its journey. From her right arm to her head, and from her head down her left arm; across the full length of her wand, the flame went. It set alight the ring around Malitrix before it blazed within her hollow cranium. Her bejeweled eyes, rubied and sapphired, turned a bright teal. Flames engulfed it, and smoke emerged from the holes where her nose would be, and between the cracks of her teeth. The skull, now fully possessed, rose from the table of its own accord, lifted by a pillar of blue fire. Its jaw became slack then, and from the inexplicable dark space came a spectre of black smoke. Silently did it slither out and around the trio, creating a nigh impenetrable screen, forcing each witch to fan and flail their hands just to keep the smoke from invading their own lungs. After a brief fit of coughing and hacking, the smoke suddenly sucked itself back into the skull, though something else had been left behind to replace it. As the group recovered from their choking fits, each of them, one by one, fell silent as their eyes fixated on the spirit before them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>It was fluid, almost plasma-like in composition; </span><em><span>a living flame</span></em><span>, given shape and sapience by the combined wills of witch-smiths across millenia past. It was humanoid, vaguely, for it lacked legs, and instead wisped out from the black-smoke jaw of the possessed skull. Bright blue light, matching The Spirit’s hue, filled the room, and wherever it looked grew even brighter, for the white orbs that served as its eyes were blinding to behold. No other features graced its face, though words did indeed emanate from it. </span><b><em>“Awaaaaaake! And beheeeeld!” </em></b><span>Singing; it was singing as if it were in a dramatic musical. </span><b><em>“Pray tell!”</em></b> <span>The Spirit opened wide its arms and took a bow. If it could smile, it certainly would be. </span><b><em>“Whom calls forth Our being, bright and brilliant?” </em></b><span>In all languages it could be heard. No matter what the hearer spoke as their primary language, it spoke in that tongue, and its inflection, feminine, masucline, betwixt and without, changed drastically with each word spoken. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I…. I am… Lotte Ja—” Lotte’s introduction was cut short. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“HARK! Do Our eyes deceeeeeeive us?!” </em>
  </b>
  <span>The Spirit’s eyes fell upon Constanze. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“A waaaayward flame! Returned at last!” </em>
  </b>
  <span>The Spirit cupped its breast, where it’s heart would be were it human, and swooned backward. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“After decades of silence! Aaaaages gone byyyyy…. Without laaabor or love, struggle or service, Our bloodline has found Us!” </em>
  </b>
  <span>The Spirit then jerked forward, clasping its hands together beside its cheek. It leaned in toward Constanze, forcing her to lean back. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Tell Us, dearest descendant, thine name!” </em>
  </b>
  <span>With The Spirit’s request posted, Amanda and Lotte both backed off, leaving the floor solely to the two Von Braunschbanks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Constanze did not respond; not immediately. She was stunned when The Spirit spoke, having been struck by an unintended tonal whiplash. It was beyond happy, overjoyed to see her, but she knew only regret, sorrow, and pain. Her expression, the messiness of her waist-length hair, and the tension in her body conveyed all of those things clearly </span><b><em>“Oh dear….”</em></b> <span>The Spirit muttered, realizing the tone of the room. </span><b><em>“We have… forgotten the state of things, haven’t We?” </em></b><span>The sing-songy nature somewhat fell away, replaced by a more melancholic, but still musical tinge to its flow. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Asked Constanze, hands at her side, balled into fists. “Dad… if you’re in there… or if you know him, if you know what he did… then please… tell me why.” The Spirit couldn’t display a frown, but it grew visibly sad. Constanze withheld all tears, but her expression was woefully pained. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Spirit shifted. It’s voice became more cohesive, particularly masucline; one of many voices was given control. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Amalie…. Is that you?”</em>
  </b>
  <span> There was no song to this voice however. It was wholly human, in delivery and tone; somber, regretful. Christofer yet lived, in some sense of the word. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dad?” Constanze couldn’t have said the word more contemptuously, but she also couldn’t have said it more longingly. “You…” The Spirit started to “smile,” as it were. The simulacrum of Christofer, even if it was just a replica, would finally reunite with his</span>
  <em>
    <span>—</span>
  </em>
  <span> “You... </span>
  <em>
    <span>bastard!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Constanze’s scowl became as sharp as a dagger, her tone heavy with fury, accompanied by hyperventilating; the now ever present hints of the breakdown that she’d been building to ever since her family life took a turn for the worse. “Why are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> here?” She was slow when speaking at first, but her questions quickly became rapid fire. “Why is </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> name on that hammer!? Why didn’t you say </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> about this!? Why didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>ANYONE</span>
  </em>
  <span> say anything when grandpa died!? WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE LIKE THIS!?” Were it not for the anger driving her, Constanze wouldn’t be able to grunt out her words let alone form proper sentences. Her expression said the most important of questions though: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Why did you hurt me?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda shared her sister’s fierceness. She too wanted an answer, for her sister’s sake. Lotte however turned her head aside. This matter didn’t concern her, not in the way it concerned Amanda, and definitely not in the way it concerned Constanze. The Spirit, in the voice of Christofer, replied after a short, thoughtful reprieve: </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Before I tell you that, Constanze, can I say something first?” </em>
  </b>
  <span>Constanze’s glare only deepened in intensity. The Spirit waved its hands to try and calm her; fear tinted its words. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“I promise it’s relevant! You need to know this before I say anything! Otherwise…. Ohhh… I just want you to know because…. God, how do I say this.” </em>
  </b>
  <span>The Spirit wiped its so-called brow, as if it were sweating anxiously. Uncle Jo was right, his brother really was terrible at explaining himself. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“You might not want to hear me say anything at all. I don’t want to anything that might hurt you and, well, you might not like the truth, and I never liked lying, but—”</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Halt’s Maul….” Constanze murmured. She was quiet enough as to not be heard, so The Spirit leaned in closer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“I’m… sorry, Constanze, what did—”</em>
  </b>
  <b>
    <em><br/>
<br/>
</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“HALT’S DEIN VERDAMMTES MAUL!” Lotte winced from how loud Constanze was. Eerie stillness followed. The only sound to break the air was Constanze’s uneasy breathing. Her knuckles whitened by her sides, her eyes met The Spirit’s and saw right through it, drilling deep toward the shard of Christofer that lay within. “Shut up…. Shut up and be honest for once in your gottverdammt life!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Contradictory as the statement may have been, the order was clear, and Christofer didn’t have the will or desire to deny his daughter further. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“I’m sorry, Amalie, but I’m…. I am your father, but I’m not your father.”</em>
  </b>
  <span> Constanze’s knuckles audibly cracked. She began to take a step forward, but the urging plea from her father, or the shard of him at least, stopped her. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“No! No! I mean it! I’m being honest! I don’t really know how to describe it besides… saying… I’m just a part of him! Or, maybe I’m not…. I’m a memory, an… an imprint. Something… something he left with us. He kept it in him, but it… but it replicated? Is that the word?”</em>
  </b>
  <span> Constanze was stopped for now, but the explanation was hardly enough to sate her. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“You there! Er, the one with the glasses!”</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eh!?” Lotte nearly jumped out of her skin. She was tuned out, her mind had wandered, and so she was easily startled. “Me!?” Constanze and Amanda both made a double take at Lotte.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“Yes! You! You’re the one who sang, right? You’re the one who woke me, Us, up, right?”</em>
  </b>
  <span> Lotte nodded worriedly. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Ok, then… then maybe you can explain it better!”</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t even know what you are!” Lotte backed up, fraught with doubt. “Everything I know is telling me you shouldn’t even be able to speak through that skull and yet—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The grander spirit, the many imprints and shards, interjected, speaking in many voices, in a somber song. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Weeee are the thoooouuughts and feeliiiiings… of thoooose who held us hiiiiiigh….” </em>
  </b>
  <span>Then came Christofer’s voice, alone. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Yes! That! What they said!”</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte scanned The Spirit up and down. Her mind went back to all of those years at Luna Nova; her classes on spiritology and the nature of thinking objects. It was a rather experimental field as far as expertise went, and so the classes were very much a lesson for the teacher as they were for the student; and that was no hyperbole. “So… you’re, like, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>normal</span>
  </em>
  <span> spirit. Not a ghost?” The Spirit nodded fervently. “Ok… and… usually things that form spirits… tend to have personalities based on who used them and why.” Lotte could practically hear Professor Badcock lecturing in her mind. “So if that’s the case, you’re sort of like a… multi-spirited object?” It wouldn’t be the first Lotte had encountered, Annabelle’s pen was another example, but that one was </span>
  <em>
    <span>far</span>
  </em>
  <span> more cohesive compared to this hammer. The pen spoke in one voice, had one mind, but knew many memories, and went by many names. This one was almost the inverse: It was many minded, had many voices, and its memories seemed more fragmented, less focused. All of the pen’s memories at least had to do with writing, whereas the hammer remembered things ranging from mundane meetings to epic battles and of course the times it was used to forge things. In a way, it was far more complex, but much less cohesive of an entity by comparison to Annabelle’s Pen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“Exactly! We are one and many! I’m just one of those pieces! I’m not really Christofer, but… without him, I wouldn’t… be… Christofer…. Ohh, damnit all! This is why I stayed away from this magical nonsense! I mean, why HE stayed away from this magical nonsense!” </em>
  </b>
  <span>The Spirit’s focus then returned to Constanze. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Do you understand what I’m trying to say, Amalie? I… I might be able to tell you what your father thought, but…. But I’m not him! So I don’t want to lie and hurt you anymore than your real father did, or have you believe something that isn’t true and</em>
  </b>
  <b>—</b>
  <b>
    <em>”</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm!” Constanze grunted loudly, silencing her not-father’s spirit. She came toward it, striding fiercely to get right up in The Spirit’s face, going as far as to silently raise the very stones she walked upon so that she could be at even height with it. The Spirit recoiled, bending back and holding its hands over its “mouth” apprehensively. They stared at one another, eye to eye. Constanze, surprisingly, spoke flatly, at a moderate volume, and maintained a steady tone. “Answer yes or no: Are you what my father was.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“I’m… Like I said, I’m just a</em>
  </b>
  <b>—</b>
  <b>
    <em>” </em>
  </b>
  <span>Constanze squinted harder, prompting The Spirit to change it’s answer. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Yes! Yes, I’m… a reflection of what your father is, or, was.” </em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes or no: Did he think like you do? Did you share thoughts? Perspective? Opinions?” Constanze remained steadfast, quiet almost, but no one could deny that she was beyond angry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Spirit paused, considered itself, and its many other selves, and then nodded. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Yes…. Yes, every one of Us. If you spoke to… one of Us, like you’re speaking to me, and you asked them personal questions then… then We’re confident that whatever that part of Us said would… would have at some point been true.” </em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze’s right brow raised, her head cocked to one side, her tone became more pointed, inquisitive. “At some point?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“We, I mean, I don’t know what your father was thinking…. No, I do know what he was thinking when he died, but I don’t know what HE would say right now if he were here. I only know what… I’d say.” </em>
  </b>
  <span>Constanze fell silent. She sized The Spirit up from the tip of it’s ember-shaped head to the end of its wispy-tail that connected it to Malitrix. They stared again into each other's eyes, though only The Spirit seemed to change its expression; anxiety continued to grow in it. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Please Amalie, I’m telling you the truth! Maybe it sounds like it wouldn’t matter, but it might! I just want to be honest with you! That’s what you wanted out of me, and… and I’m…. And I’m sorry, Constanze!”</em>
  </b>
  <span> Where Constanze recognized this to be one of her father’s ramblings, given the tone the simulacrum took, and the way it gestured with its hands and arms as it spoke, she also allowed it to continue. Its apology had softened her cold exterior, if only for the moment. She would see if The Spirit would follow through unto the end, and make this apology something genuine. So The Spirit continued, unabated. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“I’m sorry I lied to you! I don’t want to lie anymore! It’s why I sent you that email! It’s why I wanted to reconnect with you! I knew that if you came home to how things used to be… then…. Then you might just run away, and then me and your mother would never get the chance to set things straight!” </em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze remained unphased. The words struck her hard, and internally, she was roiling with uncertainty about what to say, but she had to maintain an unfeeling exterior for just a few moments longer. The Spirit wasn’t done, not by Constanze’s standards, and her glare made that clear. Realizing this, The Spirit stammered. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“And, and, and…. And I’m sorry for all of the yelling! The drinking! I’m sorry for not being better with your mother, and… she’s not here anymore, and she never used the hammer, but I can apologize for her too if you’d like!” </em>
  </b>
  <span>The Spirit almost sounded desperate, as if Constanze’s wrath might strike it down at any moment. With each apology, it fell deeper into its own sadness and loathing. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“I’m sorry she didn’t pay more attention to you! I’m sorry that the only thing she ever did after a while was get mad at you and sulk in her room! I’m sorry I didn’t try and talk some sense into her, but I wasn’t thinking straight either, so I’m sorry about that too!” </em>
  </b>
  <span>Tears, not physical ones, but theoretical ones, accompanied the rambling apology; The Spirit sounded like it was crying. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“And I’m sorry about the drinking! When your grandpa died, we knew what happened! He told us what he was going off to do, and we tried to stop him, but… but God damnit he was just too stubborn, and I’m sorry I couldn’t convince him!” </em>
  </b>
  <span>At this point, anything that had gone wrong was something The Spirit was apologizing for. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“After that it was all downhill from there! The forge started going under, and we were lucky to not have to sell the place, so… so we took it out on you, and we didn’t mean it but…. But it happened, and we’re sorry we weren’t more careful with our money! We didn’t know…. We weren’t thinking….”</em>
  </b>
  <span> The Spirit was all but sobbing now. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“We thought we knew what we were doing, that we were… good parents… at some point…. Maybe we were, maybe we weren’t. I don’t care anymore! The only thing I care about now is setting things right! Even if I am just a… stupid copy! A stupid copy of a stupid man!”</em>
  </b>
  <span> And then it really was sobbing. Droplets of liquid flame fell away from it, splashing on the floor, only to then reincorporate themselves into the larger mass. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Dad was right! He was always right!”</em>
  </b>
  <span> Christofer’s simulacrum had well and truly fallen into despair, its sorrow had crystalized into what the real Christofer also feared and felt. It hid its face behind its hands, turned around, and curled up in the air. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“A man like me never should have had a child! I was always too weak, too… too much of a damn coward to do what a father needs to do, what he needs to be...!” </em>
  </b>
  <span>The Spirit blubbered, having well and truly broken down. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Your mother deserved a better husband.... You deserved a better father…. And dad deserved a better son….”</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The simulacrum sobbed for at least a minute more before Constanze finally interjected, her expression having loosened, if only somewhat. “If that’s really what dad thought,” Constanze looked down toward her feet; the elevated stone pillar she stood on slowly declined back into the floor. She continued only when she raised her head back up to look at the still cowering spirit. “Then we’re going to do what he didn’t get the chance to” The Spirit froze, glanced backward, and fell silent. It saw Constanze looking pained, but hopeful. “We’re going to make this right. As right as it can be. Here and now.” The Spirit fully turned about, but remained silent, struck with disbelief. Constanze similarly turned, though she was far more certain of her actions, even as every word she spoke burned in her throat. “Lotte. Schwester.” Amanda and Lotte stood at attention, so to speak. The Spirit seemed only more confused at the mention of a sister. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatcha need from us, Conz?” Asked Amanda, only to be answered by Constanze rushing forward to hug both her and Lotte, pulling them in for as large of an embrace as the small German witch could muster. It took them both a moment to properly hug Constanze back, but they got around to it at their own pace. “Love you too, sis…. Love you too.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte forced a smile. “Are… you going to be ok, Constanze?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm…. I’ll survive.” Constanze whispered, her voice ached too much to speak much louder now. “Need to be alone though. Thank you both. But….” She wasn’t really sure how to put into words her justifications for privacy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Luckily, neither Amanda nor Lotte needed them. “Don’t sweat it. If that’s what you need, then that’s what you need.” Amanda squeezed her sister one last time before she broke off with Lotte. “We’ll keep watch upstairs, and hey, maybe this’ll be a good chance for me to teach Lotte a few things.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eh? Oh! R-Right…. As long as… w-were not too loud, then, yeah, I guess we could.” Lotte wasn’t sure if now was the best of times for training, but she also wasn’t sure what else to do. Before she and Amanda left though, she spoke sternly to Constanze. “Just remember the time limit! We’ve got about…” She looked down at her clock. “A little over two hours. I don’t want to be rude, but—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lotte.” Constanze gave her Finnish friend a thumbs up. “We’ll have time to spare. We got a video to record.” As she lowered her raised hand, her eyes drifted to the forge. “And swords to smith.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lotte faintly smiled. “Thanks for understanding.” She paused before pointing to the possessed skull of Malitrix. “Oh! And make sure you don’t move Malitrix out of the circle until you’re done talking with The Spirit. The same goes for the hammer.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.” Constanze nodded. “Thanks.” With that, Lotte and Amanda gave their brief goodbyes. The former waved quietly while the latter offered a quick two fingered salute before both left up the steep stairs together. Now, only the Von Braunschbanks remained within the chamber. Constanze took a deep, grounding breath, slowly turned herself to face the bewildered and stunned spirit, and began to write her responses. She held up her notepad whenever she’d finished her thought: “First thing’s first. I accept your apology.” The Spirit trembled, whimpered, the simulacrum of her father couldn’t believe it. Though, it hadn’t finished reading. Just below that lay a singular word, underlined thrice. “But.” And so its heart sank again. “I can’t forgive you. Not now. Maybe not ever.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Spirit slumped and sighed deeply. It spoke in the many voices of all, dramatic and song-like as ever: </span>
  <b>
    <em>“We apologize as well! For the wrongs of the one are shared by the many!” </em>
  </b>
  <span>Then came the simulacrum of Chirstofer’s response. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“I didn’t think you’d forgive me, and I can’t blame you…. I never forgave my father, after all, so why should you?” </em>
  </b>
  <span> Christofer actually chortled at that. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Ironic, isn’t it? How I’ve made the same damn mistakes he made, just with different words and different people.”  </em>
  </b>
  <span>No laugh could match him in terms of bleakness, though he wasn’t permitted to carry on in his loathing for long. While The Spirit was just that, a spirit, a magical, ghostly hand could still strike them across the face, and Constanze knew just how to summon one up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Smack! </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sense was literally slapped into The Spirit who pensively held it’s cheek and looked on in confusion to the would be heir to the forge. Before it could ask why, Constanze gave herself the same treatment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Smack!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’d have no more unnecessary blubbering, no undue anger, no unwarranted outbursts from either party, especially herself. They’d handle this not without emotion, but not with unchecked emotion. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Are… you alright?” </em>
  </b>
  <span>The simulacrum of Christofer of course wasn’t sure what in the hells was going on. The strange sensation of pain had all but wiped its mind clear of thoughts, “resetting it,” so to speak. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze, having recognized that her little ploy worked based on the tone The Spirit talked with, the way it now carried itself, and by the clarity she herself now knew, nodded slowly. She gestured over to the workbench, pulled up a stool to it, sat down, and set her notepad down on a spot beside the hammer and skull. From over her shoulder, The Spirit watched her write out her replies: “I’m fine. I needed you to focus. I needed to focus too.” She flipped to a fresh page before continuing: “Now read this carefully: I need you to answer a few questions. Answers should be short, sweet, and to the point. Understood.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“Ahh, yes, I understand. And so does the rest of me, or, Us, or whatever the hell I am.” </em>
  </b>
  <span> The simulacrum of Christofer supposed it shouldn’t be surprised that Constanze was as abrasive and curt as she was. It had the real Christofer’s memories, it knew what she was put through, the environment she grew from. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Ask away.” </em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Constanze got to work. She wrote unceasingly for a few minutes before finally she set aside her pen. The questions were ordered numerically in a list, though it was hard to tell if there was any sort of rhyme or reason to that order, or if Constanze merely wanted them to be as such. From the top, the questions were read aloud, and from the top, the simulacrum of Christofer answered:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“Question one: Why is part of you in the hammer?” </em>
  </b>
  <span>The Spirit shifted, now speaking as the many. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Do youuuuu remember noooooot our wooooords? We are the thooooo—!”</em>
  </b>
  <span> Constanze held a flat palm up, thricely underlined the words “short, sweet and to the point,” and then added an addendum: No singing. The Spirit went slack. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“It’s not inteeeeentional you knooooww!” </em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then let dad explain it.” Wrote Constanze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><b><em>“Hmmph. Fine!” </em></b><span>The Spirit crossed its arms before the shard of Christofer took over again. </span><b><em>“Constanze, be glad you’re not stuck in here like me, they drive me mad with all of their singing too.”</em></b><span> A bit of throat clearing on Constanze’s part got The Spirit back on track. </span><b><em>“Oh! Sorry.”</em></b> <span>It reread the question again for good measure. </span><b><em>“I, well, exist because Christofer, as in the flesh and blood Christofer, smithed something with the hammer. Anyone of our bloodline who uses the hammer to make something will automatically put a piece of themselves into it. And, like I said before, it’s… not a real piece of them, just a copy.”</em></b><span> Mercifully, The Spirit had been able to speak plainly about these matters. That slap really helped set the two of them straight in terms of emotional focus. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze tapped at her chin with the blunt end of her pen. She wrote a response a moment later: “So I’ll become a part of it if I use it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“Yes, exactly.”</em>
  </b>
  <span> Constanze nodded, not showing any notion of an opinion that liked or disproved of this answer. She was out for the facts, after all, and for now, she would withhold her judgement so as to get the whole picture first. She moved her pen to cross out the first question and then pointed to the second. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Ok, question two: Is anyone else in the family that I knew in there with you?”</em>
  </b>
  <span> The Spirit paused. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Oh, that’s… actually a little hard to answer.”</em>
  </b>
  <span> The word “try” was written and circled in a blank section of the page in response. The Spirit shrugged. It’d try if that’s what Constanze wanted: </span>
  <b>
    <em>“I… don’t think anyone you knew… well, my father’s in here, but he’s not interested in talking to either of us….” </em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why not?” Asked Constanze, verbally this time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“I, We even, don’t think he’s spoken ever since he came here.” </em>
  </b>
  <span>The Spirit rubbed its hands over the other repeatedly, something her true father used to do when he was anxious. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“This is a bit of an answer to question one too, but your… imprint, it doesn’t ‘wake up’ until the real you dies. I certainly don’t know why, and no one else in here does either. Not even our original ancestor.”</em>
  </b>
  <span> Constanze thought about inquiring as to who this “original ancestor” was, but shook her head clear of distractions. She’d keep it in mind for later. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“He’s been quiet ever since he’s died, and none of us know why. Honestly, I’m… I’m actually happy about that.”</em>
  </b>
  <span> Constanze shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t like how much she could sympathize with that sentiment, nor how similar her father sounded to her when she spoke of her family woes in the company of others. The situation demanded they move forward, however. There would be time to internalize and process all of this later. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Onto the third question they went. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Question three….” </em>
  </b>
  <span>The Spirit paused. Its eyes skimmed on past the third question to the fourth and fifth ones. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Ah, Amalie, since you wanted this to be a bit short for… some reason,” </em>
  </b>
  <span>The Spirit actually had no idea of Speartips occupation of the ruined town. Better to explain that later if it needed to be explained at all. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Let me answer these three together.”</em>
  </b>
  <span> The Spirit circled the trio of questions with its hand, leaving a trail of ectoplasm on the paper that lightly singed it before returning to the greater mass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze considered the questions and nodded. “Go ahead.” She wrote. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“Ok! So, first off: Why did you hide our family history from me. That’s both… a bit complicated, and, again, involves my father.” </em>
  </b>
  <span>Constanze clicked her tongue, taking mental note of the generational pattern that these things seemed to have. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“He told me and your Uncle Jo everything, ever since we could walk and talk. It was… a lot to put on a kid, so I knew pretty early on that if I was going to tell you, I’d wait until you were older.”</em>
  </b>
  <span> Constanze rolled her head from left to right, considering the explanation. It made sense, though, the operative word was “older.” The shard of Christofer knew that well though, so he was quick to explain: </span>
  <b>
    <em>“But then, at… some godforsaken point down the line, I decided I was never going to say anything. I even hid it from your mother up until our second anniversary. At that point, I couldn’t keep making up excuses to turn my parents away every time they tried to visit or even talk to us.” </em>
  </b>
  <span>Constanze glanced back at The Spirit, giving all of her attention to its words, as if she wasn’t focused enough. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“This was fifteen years before you were born, mind you. So this goes much deeper than just trying to hide it from you. I think, now that I had time to think about it, what with you away from home at Luna Nova, I was trying to… hide it from myself, in a weird sort of way.”</em>
  </b>
  <span> The Spirit sighed. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“That’s what my therapist told me anyway. N-Not that I told everyone about the secret forge or the order, just… that I was hiding things and…. You get what I mean.” </em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze swivelled fully about on her stool and took the pad with her. She wrote up a reply and held it in front of her face when she was done. “I appreciate the context, but that doesn’t explain why.” The term “why” was thrice underlined. “Uncle Jo mentioned in his letter that you were forced. Is that why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“So you did find that letter. Well, I guess you had to if you found your way down here. Not that you couldn’t have found another way like the scrappy little engineer I knew you to be! But uh….” </em>
  </b>
  <span>If it had hair, The Spirit would scratch it. Instead, it just ran its hand back and forth through the flame-tip of its head. It sounded more self-conscious than before when speaking on this matter in particular. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Yes, it was because he… forced me to take up the hammer. The forge, the house, all of it, it was all passed down from generation to generation. And I was… unlucky enough to be born first.” </em>
  </b>
  <span>That self-conscious anxiousness quickly turned bitter. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“And sure, my father wasn’t kind to Johanne either, but at least he wanted to be a witch-smith. I tried as hard as I could to convince pops to let Jo run the forge, let him carry the torch, but no, it had to be the first born.” </em>
  </b>
  <span>The Spirit’s eyes rolled from left to right. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“He just couldn’t accept that things sometimes needed to change, and sure, now that I’m old, and, well, dead, I can understand why it matters to preserve things like that, but at the cost of your own flesh and blood?”</em>
  </b>
  <span> Slowly it descended and “sat” beside Constanze; more so, it floated in a sitting position. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“I can’t imagine it….” </em>
  </b>
  <span>Its eyes then fell upon Constanze, remorseful, once more full of plasma-tears. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“But I don’t need to, do I? I already know exactly how people can do that sort of thing.”</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now the generational aspect of all of this was undeniable. It all came back to their bloodline and how it treated its own; root and stem. Constanze fell quiet, in both the written and spoken word. Her eyes drifted to the pad in her lap while her focus turned inward. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Are we really both that similar?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She felt her knuckles tighten again, only to chide herself silently. She couldn’t let herself get enmeshed in anger again, not yet. There would be a time and place for that soon to come. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“But how? How can he say this and still… still be the person who did it?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She suddenly turned her head up and to the right when she felt heat upon her shoulder. The Spirit had rested an arm around her. She squirmed somewhat uncomfortably and brushed the hand away, or at least, her brushing motion bade The Spirit to retract the hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“Sorry. Forgot you didn’t like that sort of thing.”</em>
  </b>
  <span> The Spirit forced itself to face forward, cleared its “throat,” and kept relatively still. If it had a proper face, it would look beyond uncomfortable. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze had to force her gaze elsewhere too. Every moment she looked at The Spirit while it sat like that just twisted the knife in her heart harder and harder. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Gott, all these years and he was just… just too damn stupid to get help! To damn stupid to open up!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Try as she did, her anger slipped through the cracks in her defences. Reason quickly retaliated though: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“As if I could have understood what he was talking about…. Not my job as a kid.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her mind wandered to his ramblings, the alcoholically charged ones. She grasped bits and pieces of them and never seemed to forget them. They were mostly nonsensical, but she couldn’t help but linger on certain phrases that spoke of “having no choice,” and “never being good enough” for that “two-bit-ass that they call a great man!” She bit the inside of her cheek instinctively. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Was he always talking about grandpa? Was it always just… right in front of us?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Even if it was, she knew it wasn’t her fault. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><b><em>“You know,”</em></b> <span>The calm, yet longing voice of Christofer snapped Constanze out of her stream of consciousness. </span><b><em>“I just realized…. You’re talking a lot more than you used to. A lot more.”</em></b></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahh…. Ja.” Constanze was starting to feel dizzy. “Got better at talking at school. It was good for me. I promise.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“I never doubted it, Amalie. I never did.”</em>
  </b>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You kept calling at first.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“That I did, that I did….”</em>
  </b>
  <span> The Spirit shook its head slowly. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“I was afraid at first. I knew it’d be good for you, but I was… well, for one, I had a pretty terrible view of magic, and I bet you can imagine why based on what I’ve told you so far.”</em>
  </b>
  <span> Indeed she could, though she wished she couldn’t. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“And worse, I think I was more worried that I’d really failed you by not keeping you safe. I wanted to make sure, in my own stupid way, that you never got hurt.”</em>
  </b>
  <span> The simulacrum almost couldn’t believe what it was saying, given the larger context of Christofer’s abusive behavior, but it couldn’t help but speak honestly.</span>
  <b>
    <em> “It’s why I called you almost every day for a month, even when I knew you wouldn’t answer. Just the fact that the call went through let me know you were alright.”</em>
  </b>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You hid it to protect me.” Constanze clarified, refocusing them back on the initial questions. “From what?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Spirit took a long, contemplative moment to mull its answer over. Finally, it let slip the real reason; the reason beneath the reasons. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“When I said that my dad told me and Johanne everything…. I meant everything.”</em>
  </b>
  <span> The Spirit sounded grimmer than before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze thought it over before shaking her head. She held up her notepad. “Specifics.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“He told us just how dangerous the life of a Balefire witch was. Even with the order basically nonexistent, he wanted us to live those lives, to be something that… I felt that the world had outgrown the need for. Hunters, witch-smiths, things that just don’t make—”</em>
  </b>
  <span> The Spirit paused, looked down at its ethereal body, and let loose a brief, harrowed gasp. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Things that… didn’t make sense… in the world I grew up in…. Maybe if I’d become what I was… supposed to be… then things wouldn’t have happened the way they did, but no one could have</em>
  </b>
  <b>—</b>
  <b>
    <em>” </em>
  </b>
  <span>The shard couldn’t lie. Slowly, it raised up its hands and buried its face in its palms. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“My father predicted this, but we didn’t listen. Even my brother thought he was crazy. He had no real evidence, no reason to believe any of it besides a hunch and a chip on his shoulder.” </em>
  </b>
  <span>It “sat” more upright now and peaked its eyes between the cracks of its fingers to glance in Constanze’s direction. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Constanze, there’s a lot of things I regret, but that’s the one thing I don’t regret. Even now, when I look down at… something that isn’t me, and talk to you in a voice that isn’t mine either, knowing I died that day…. I don’t regret resisting my dad’s will. I wasn't a soldier, I wasn’t a witch, and I was barely a smith, and there was nothing that could’ve changed that.” </em>
  </b>
  <span> The Spirits hands fell from its face, revealing a semblance of confidence, but just that, a semblance. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“And, despite what all of our ancestors keep telling me, we don’t need the order anymore. Maybe it doesn’t even need magic. The world’s moved on, Constanze, and you should move on with it…. You’ll be safer that way.”</em>
  </b>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze lifted a hand to her mouth and bit the side of her pointer finger idly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh gott, do I tell him?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She looked at her right hand while making as little eye movement as possible; she could clearly see the marks Asgall had left upon her. She was quick to cover it with her other hand, only for her to freeze a moment later. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Wait… why?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Slowly, she retracted her left hand and examined her palm. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Why would I hide it now…?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She knew why: She didn’t want to cause undue pain to her father, simulacrum or not, even as other parts of her wanted greatly to harm him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Knew it would hurt…. Always knew it would hurt.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze held her right hand up and examined it as well, just as she did the left. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Should have known it would hurt him too.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Then she raised it, splayed out her fingers, and showed the back of her palm to The Spirit. “Mmm.” The grunt got its attention. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“Hmm?”</em>
  </b>
  <span> At first, The Spirit had no idea what it was looking at, but then the other voices, those who had truly been inducted to the other, rose to the surface. It slinked away into the air, clasped one hand over each of its cheeks, and gasped. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Pray tell, dearest Constanze, have you truly taken up... the flaaaaaaaaame!?” </em>
  </b>
  <span>Constanze balled her right hand into a fist as she nodded. Where the many voices within wished to scream their jubilations, Christofer forced himself back to the front of the crowd, so to speak. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Amalie! You... how could you have…?”</em>
  </b>
  <span> The Spirit flew down, clutched Constanze at the wrist, and looked on in horror mixed with pride; a dissonance that would not hold forever. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Does it hurt? Oh my god, don’t tell me you went through with what I think you did!”</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Where the warmness of The Spirit’s touch brought comfort, the words she heard only angered her. “Mmm!” Constanze ripped her hand away from The Spirit’s hold after some struggling. Her right hand remained up, held just in front of her lips. “What if I did?” The retort brought silence to the argument, silence that only Constanze dared break. “You just said you regretted what you did. You held me back. You hid it from me. What did you want me to do now that I knew about it?” What did you think was going to happen!?” Her volume steadily rose as her patience fell. Silence, again, claimed dominion over the room for a time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amidst that silence, The Spirit all but receded back into Malitrix. The shard of Christofer was ashamed, so much so that it allowed only a formless, vague cloud linger just beyond Malitrix’s gaping maw. It spoke with the same timidity. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“We thought you might… learn from our ancestors… but we hoped you wouldn’t follow them! This isn’t a path for….” </em>
  </b>
  <span>Before it inadvertently insulted Constanze, The Spirit stopped itself. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“It’s only ever led us to ruin. That’s all this path has done for us. It led my dad to go on a suicidal quest to kill some… forgotten foe from our past, it led that same bastard who killed him here, and now it’s going to lead you right into an early grave too!” </em>
  </b>
  <span>The Spirit sniffled and spoke ruefully for a moment, answering the last of the three questions it identified earlier. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“It’s why we lied about grandpa’s death! We thought you might… I don’t know, hold a grudge against whoever those men were. We could only hope that they’d forgotten about us too, but… but he had to go and kick the damn hornet’s nest!”</em>
  </b>
  <span> More tears escaped The Spirit then as it remembered back to the harrowing night of the true Christofer’s death. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“I may already be gone, Amalie, but I can’t afford to lose you now…. When I was there, in the snow, right before it all went dark… they took my wallet. They know you exist. They’ll be after you too, and they won’t stop until you’re dead!”</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze’s fierce scowl returned. “And what if I already knew that!?” The Spirit had been completely silenced by that statement. “What if I learned about the order before I ever came back home? What if it’s too late to warn me about all of this!?” Constanze  rose to her feet and let her arms grow rigid and stiff with anger. “Well guess what: It is! I’ve fought them. I know what they can do. And I know that I can beat them. I have to!” Constanze only grew fiercer, even as The Spirit recoiled in greater horror, both at the truths Constanze spoke, and at the glint in her eyes; a burning hatred that could be denied no longer. “Secondly: This is bigger than our family! There are hundreds of lives at stake! Hundreds already lost! You don’t understand how dangerous the Bathorys have become! You don’t get to tell me what is and isn’t my problem! And…. And….” Constanze simmered, ground down her teeth, and finally, in one great yell, exploded out all of her built up tension. “AND YOU DON’T GET TO TELL ME WHAT I’M ALLOWED TO DO WITH MY LIFE!” As it was with most explosions, the initial firestorm grabbed one's attention, but only when the dust begins to billow, and when the devastated ruins begin to show, does the heart truly become moved by it. Constanze broke down from unmatchable anger into all-too-relatable tears. “Not anymore…. Never again….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was almost nothing to be said at that point. And why would either of them continue speaking? The room was deathly quiet, save for the occasional sniffle, soft hyperventilations, and the crinkling of The Spirit’s flaming body. Where did they go from here? The question vexed both Constanze and Christofer, for the former was too stricken to think in that moment, and the latter was caught up in memories. The shard of Christofer remembered a meeting much like this. It wasn’t between The Spirit of the hammer and his living self, but between him and his own father. It was the last time they’d ever have a prolonged, genuine discussion; a real heart to heart, as it were. It was years ago, long before Constanze was ever born or even in the mind of either parent, and it was in this very same place; the olde Von Braunschbank forge. It was all hauntingly similar, even in the structure of their conversation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Christofer and his father, the Von braunschbank elder, had come to a head. It was twenty two years prior. Christofer and his newly wedded wife, Andrea, were nearing their two year anniversary. What brought them down there, into the forge, was a matter most dire: Christofer’s father couldn’t afford to physically man the forge, and he was a lonely man whose wife had passed many years prior. Something had to give. Either Christofer would finally take up the trials his father had set out for him so that he could “rightfully” claim the forge, even if it was already in Christofer’s legal name, or his father would relent, for the first time in his life, and let his eldest son do as he wanted. It was heartfelt, at first, but tense throughout. Faults were admitted, on both sides, but his father’s especially, though no true change ever came about. The chain that bound them together, as father and son, rusted as it was, and tenuously brittle, was cut with a shout, a declaration: Christofer would be his own man, and no appeal to tradition would sway him down the Balefire’s path. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now, amidst decades of dust, as nothing more than a shard, a simulation of a man that once lived, the simulacrum couldn’t help but wonder why, or how they even got to that breaking point last time. Christofer himself couldn’t remember the exact details of the conversation, but things got out of hand. He’s not even sure why he cut himself off so fiercely from this forge, from the hammer and all that came with it, for by then, his name was already imprinted upon its handle; he was destined to be remade in its image, preserved for all time, till the hammer itself rejoined the dust that coated the masonry, when no one was left to wield it. The simulacrum pondered on all of this amidst the silence: It wondered why he resisted when his defiance was hollow. He never went on to be a dancer as he so truly desired, to his father’s endless, chauvinistic grumbling. He remained a smith, a mundane smith, but a smith nonetheless. Even if it was “too late” for him to become a dancer in a professional sense, he never took it up as a hobby. If anything, he remembered growing two left feet as the years went on. And yet a smith he remained. Never once did he search for an office job, try baking, anything different; there were no winners on that day. His father was dejected, and Christofer was forever unsatisfied, but never was he impassioned enough to change that fact, to find something he could burn and yearn for. It was all very mechanical, rigid, thoughtless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And so here Constanze stood, staring him, or at least, a replicant of him, dead in the eyes. For all of the minutes they spent in silence after she exploded with rage, she hadn’t once taken her eyes off of him. She wanted, no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed</span>
  </em>
  <span> an answer. For weal or woe, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>would </span>
  </em>
  <span>have closure. Having thought back on that self-same scenario that the real Christofer found himself in all those years ago, The Spirit opted for weal over woe: </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Amalie.”</em>
  </b>
  <span> It began. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“I’ve said it before, but I really, really mean it this time:” </em>
  </b>
  <span>It took a deep breath, mustering its courage. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“I’m sorry for trying to lead you along. I never wanted to control your life, but that’s what I ended up trying to do, your mother included…. And I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.”</em>
  </b>
  <span> From within the skull, The Spirit began to emerge, bearing itself to the full bore of Constanze’s wrath should she choose to unleash it. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Whatever I said before about what I want for you, forget about it. I’m dead now, Constanze. The real me is gone! I’m all that’s left, and what I want you to do, no matter what the real me would have thought or said, is for you to do whatever you feel is right.”</em>
  </b>
  <span> Their gazes remained unbroken, but Constanze’s rage was faltering. Empathy would prevail, in the end. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still, there was more to be said. The Spirit's eyes drifted to the notepad that had been scattered to the floor when Constanze shot up from her seat. With but a gesture of its hand, the notepad floated up into the air in front of it. The shard of Christofer read from it aloud: </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Question Six: Why did you hurt me?” </em>
  </b>
  <span>For all the vagueness of the question, Christofer’s simulacrum had come with a hard hitting answer. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Because I was a fool, Amalie. Because I thought that I needed to protect you from something that was forced on me, but I did that by trying to force a ‘normal’ life on you. Your grandfather thought the order was normal, that me becoming a witch-smith was natural, and I thought that you’d go to a mundane college, get a mundane degree or certification, maybe get married, settle down…. That you’d do exactly what I did, just without the pressure to be something that you weren’t.” </em>
  </b>
  <span>Constanze couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. The Spirit approached and “knelt” before her, though it did not touch her. The warmth it provided was comforting, especially in the cold dark of the forge in the midst of winter. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“And I was a damn, damn fool to think that I wasn’t just making the same mistakes that my father did. It doesn’t matter what path I tried to set you down, I was wrong to try and set you down one at all….” </em>
  </b>
  <span>Now that it was up so close, the simulacrum couldn't help but study Constanze as any parent might do to an estranged child. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“You’ve grown so much, Amalie. I don’t know who you’ve become, but I know who you used to be….” </em>
  </b>
  <span>The Spirit gingerly brushed a stray bit of messy hair out from Constanze’s face. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“And I can tell that you’ll be a better person than I ever could have been.”</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“D-Don’t… d-d-don’t say that.” Constanze whimpered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“I can’t help it.” </em>
  </b>
  <span>The Spirit sighed. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“I can think and wish that I was a better man, but I wasn’t. Wishing things were different got me nowhere. All it did was… send me to the bars and get me mad.” </em>
  </b>
  <span>A crease in the flame, a smile, pained, yet genuine, formed on The Spirit’s face. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“I’ll tell you what I should have done instead, something you excel at, I should add: I should’ve done something about it. I spent all that time thinking, wallowing, going through the motions as if the rhythm of my humdrum tune was going to change on a whim, never realizing that I just… that I needed to stand up and… fight to change it myself.” </em>
  </b>
  <span>The Spirit chuckled weakly. A tune, once shattered by the mentioning of name, returned to the forefront. It chimed harmoniously in Constanze’s mind as the shard of her father continued: </span>
  <b>
    <em>“It’s like being the conductor of an orchestra and expecting the tuba player to rewrite your composition…. Pointless. Just rewrite it yourself.” </em>
  </b>
  <span>Constanze continued to slip further and further into sobbing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“Oh Amalie….” </em>
  </b>
  <span>Said The Spirit, continuing its ramble. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Your bow.” </em>
  </b>
  <span>The Spirit shifted to the side, examining Constanze from her left. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“It’s strange seeing you without it…. What happened? Did you outgrow it while you were away?”</em>
  </b>
  <span> Constanze shook her head. She had no idea where she’d lost it. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Ahh, well, you’ve probably had a rough time getting here…. It’s easy to lose things like that.” </em>
  </b>
  <span>She remembered back to when she first received the bow from him; she was eight, and she cherished it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“One of the good ones….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze thought to herself amidst her weeping.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“I wish I could go buy you another,” </em>
  </b>
  <span>The Spirit shifted around behind her. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“But this will have to do.” </em>
  </b>
  <span>Constanze tried to look and see what it was doing, but the shard of Christofer spoke up. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Ah-ah, no peeking.”</em>
  </b>
  <span> The sound of ghostly whistling and crackling embers gave little clues as to what was going on, but she felt her hair being gently tugged and toyed with. All she could do was wait until The Spirit retracted itself to meet her face to face once again. It smiled wider, but paused once it realized it lacked a mirror. It turned and called forth a fuller, a tool used to help shape shields and pieces of armor, and blew the dust off of it. Using one its flat edges, and a bit of light from The Spirit’s own luminous form, Constanze was able to see her reflection. A bow, as bright and as blue as The Spirits own body, put her hair back where it used to be. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“It’s not perfect, but it’s the best I can do.”</em>
  </b>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze’s hands went over her face, leaving all from the eyes down obscured. She could barely formulate a sensible thought, but the words formed themselves on their own: “I… I… I love it….” The sight of the bow, her haired put back as to the way it was, gave her the fleeting sensation of normalcy; tranquility. It felt like a sign, a sign that they might endeavor to return to a simpler time, though the color of it, the shift from soft pink to ghostly blue, reminded her of why she could never go back. As small a change as it was, it meant everything to her. For once in her life, for the first time ever since the terrible news of Ludinghal’s ruination reached her ears, Constanze didn’t want to go back. There was only forward, and Constanze would have it no other way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“Blue always did look good on you.” </em>
  </b>
  <span>The Spirit sniffled and wiped away a plasma-tear. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“You don’t need to forgive me for any of what happened, but I do need you to understand why things happened the way they did…. I hope I explained it well enough.” </em>
  </b>
  <span>The posture of The Spirit eased, it floated more “naturally,” calmly. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“I don’t know if my love was genuine back then, but I know now that I love you, Constanze. I really do love you…. And I think that if the real me were here now, he’d love you just the same.” </em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Constanze’s head was emptied of thoughts; blissful release was all that remained in these moments. She had thought she experienced true release before when unleashing her wrath on the safe, but this was something else; it was validation! Validation from the very man who once plagued her every waking moment, who now recognized where he erred, who now sought not forgiveness, but to see her succeed where he failed. And by Vaal’s Anvil, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> succeed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Where Constanze was without words, The Spirit had a few more. Specifically, it has one, burning, yearning question. It sang the inquiry from the mouths of its many shards, Christofer’s included: </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Now, young smith! Tell Us! What greeeaat and terrrrrrible woes plague ye! Tell us now, the faaate of our foe: Tell us, of Bathory!” </em>
  </b>
  <span>The time for their one on one had gone. Christopher had made peace with his daughter, and vice versa. All that remained was for Constanze to claim her birthright, and reforge the twin blades. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before that though, The Spirit had a right to know what was going on. Constanze wiped her eyes, took deep, measured breaths, and slowly returned to a relatively calm state. She gave a nod of agreement to The Spirit and got to work writing. She had </span>
  <em>
    <span>a lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of explaining to do, especially about her newly acquired sister. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Strangely though, as Constanze started to write, she began to realize that a certain tune had returned, and that her pace was mirroring it. No longer did it haunt her, but it still didn’t make complete sense yet. If this was her song, then she needed to know how it was supposed to sound in action. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>GO TO NEXT CHAPTER! ITS A CONTINUATION OF THIS ONE! </p><p>I hit AO3's character limit! Whoops!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Cup Runneth Over | Hold The Hammer High [PART 2]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for needing two chapter slots to fit one narrative chapter!</p><p>I hope you all don't mind! This is a very integral/critical portion of the story, as I assume most of you have figured by now!</p><p>Without any further adieu, enjoy!</p><p> </p><p>Tumblr: https://karmotrinedreams91.tumblr.com/</p><p>Twitter: https://twitter.com/KarmotrineDrea1</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Meanwhile, at Castle Bathory….  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The throne room was once again alight with activity. That is to say, the fact that it had more than ten persons in it who were actually permitted and prepared to speak was noteworthy. Only during revels and important meetings was noise allowed to spread freely in Elizabeth’s presence. In this case, it was the latter, rather than the former, which summoned Katalin, her spymasters, and several noteworthy vampire nobles to the throne room. The Fates, specifically Cause, had appeared before her majesty on Will’s orders, and demanded a council be held. This gathering of stuffy, armored, or otherwise regally adorned undead was that council. The designated time of meeting would soon be upon them. </p><p> </p><p>A grand red carpet lay outstretched from the grand iron doors to the very seat of the crimson veiled throne. Moonlight was allowed to shine in freely, providing rare radiance to the otherwise dim and dark castle interior. The moon’s brightness lit up the stained glass windows that lined the hall, depicting scenes of “questionable” biblical accuracy, while the greatest of murals towered above the rest at the very back of the hall, shadowing Bathory’s throne. It depicted Elizabeth bathing in a waterfall of blood, marked by a halo, bent on her knees, and bathed in glorious light from the heavens. This, accompanied by all of the draperies and novelties that had been added to the castle over time, obscured the cogs, gears, swivels, and winches that were being installed in the room. The great harvester would soon be complete, but for now, it needed to remain hidden from both The Fates and a few particular members of the clan. Some of them were simply too keen for their own good, and would begin to ask <em> far </em> too many questions. </p><p> </p><p>Luckily, those that were assembled were close enough, or doggedly loyal enough, to be entrusted with the knowledge of the machine’s construction. Of course, if they weren’t in fact loya, the constant presence of Elizabeths’ handmaidens, those ghostly silent, white veiled women, would deter them from speaking freely outside of sanctioned meetings. One maiden flanked either side of Bathory’s throne just beyond the crimson satin veil that masked the queen herself. They looked peaceful, somber, like a widow might at a funeral, while ten more watched from the second-level balconies where the bands and choir would perform during parties. The instruments were left unattended now, accompanied only by the handmaidens as they looked down from on high, judging every movement and sound made by all but Bathory herself. The final noteworthy attendant was in fact the only mortal permitted at the meeting: The Speaker’s de facto replacement. </p><p> </p><p>He was a haggard wretch of a man, who would’ve been easily mistaken for a corpse. He was as close to immortality as the Bathorys would allow for an unblooded among their ranks; a master necromancer of decrepit physique, wrapped in bandaging and heavy cloth, making him look something like a hunchback ghoul. Mercifully, his face was all but shapeless beyond the shroud of his cloak and the wrappings on his face, leaving only two hollow eyes visible. His presence was… tolerated, to put it kindly, and while he had been promised true power through life eternal, none of the vampires was interested in actively giving it to him. Indeed, their mortal servants would soon become obsolete. That is what Bathory promised the assembled vampires in private, at least.</p><p> </p><p>Now though, in the interluding time between the official beginning of the meeting, and the assembly of the court, Elizabeth had a question to resolve. “Do tell…” Her voice was cheerful, yet wanted for something; hungering aplomb. “Why is Nikolai nearly late?” Her inquisition shattered the silence of the otherwise tightly lipped court. “I haven’t heard from him at all this past week, and I’m certain you are all aware of how much he likes to… prattle on.” The royally mandated chuckle from the court followed, prompting Elizabeth to lean to one side in her throne, and resting her head against her left knuckle. No smile graced her face this time. “Do not mistake my sarcasm for levity. His absence… disturbs me, and I would know where he has—”</p><p> </p><p>Reality was shredded. An incision the size of a typical door was made in the very fabric of space; its sudden appearance, and the terrible noise that erupted from the intrusion stayed Bathory’s lips. It sounded as though someone had blasted the sound of paper being loudly ripped from a microphone. The Fates had arrived. Well, Cause, Will, and Effect had arrived, in that order respectively from left to right. Chaos was nowhere to be seen.</p><p> </p><p>Katalin was quick to comment on their arrival: “Ah, fashionably early.” She clicked her tongue and stroked her chin with one hand while the other wielded her fan. “Though, I count only three of you. Where is your… foul-mouthed half?”</p><p> </p><p>“Wounded.” Will chided on the approach to the center of the U-shaped gathering.</p><p> </p><p>“Wounded…?” Katalin turned her head slightly aside, eyeing the Fates distrustfully. Judging murmurs rumbled throughout the others present, though they were mindful to be quiet enough so that they weren’t <em> too </em> distracting. “Wounded how?”</p><p> </p><p>Will lifted her gaze, allowing the moonlight which bled through the stained-glass window, which served as the backdrop to Elizabeth’s raised throne, to illuminate her face. “Has he not informed you?” </p><p> </p><p>Elizabeth gestured fluidly from behind the crimson veil. Her shadow depicted a seductive motion with her right claw, salaciously flexing her long, sharply pointed fingers outward. “Informed us of what,dear Fates?” </p><p> </p><p>Bathory’s false pleasantries and niceties fell deaf on Will’s ears, just as they did in every meeting between the two. “Of our failure to capture the escaped witches.” Will had come to terms with this failure, but no peace would be found in said failure if this meeting produced no meaningful plan of attack to push the uneasy alliance toward its goals. “Has he not yet returned?”</p><p> </p><p>“Returned? Escaped witches?” Elizabeth laughed dryly, coldly, menacingly. It was so fake as to provoke silence among the whispering members of the court, and enough to have Katalin reflexively gulp down her concerns. “My, my, it seems my court has acted without my knowing.” Worst of all, now she was smiling warmly. It made her look and feel almost human. <em> Almost </em>. “Would anyone like to explain themselves? Hmm? Anyone?” The Fates sneered; this was off to a bad start already. </p><p> </p><p>A nameless, and ultimately inconsequential vampire lord stepped out of the circle and spoke up: Her accent was french, and her tone was one of dry, forced confidence, all meant to mask her fear. “If I may, my lady.”</p><p> </p><p>Elizabeth’s grin fell upon the lowly lord. “You may.” Relaxed as she seemed, the court knew better than to grow comfortable. </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, my lady.” The nameless lord bowed deeply. Once she’d risen back up from her prostration, she coughed into her fist as a way of clearing her throat. “Your son, Nikolai, came to me stating that he was being sent away on matters entrusted to him by, and I quote, God and Queen.” An awkward silence followed her reveal. Elizabeth’s free claw began to slowly glide down her right cheek, gently brushing her sharp nails along the long-dead, but perfectly “healthy” skin. Her insatiable stare prompted a bit of fidgeting on the lowly lord’s part. She was bade to speak further: “He tasked me with taking over his original station: Keeping the island secure and preparing our forces for the second engagement while he went to hunt down two escapees. I had… assumed he was acting on your orders, but… now that I think about it… he mentioned that I… shouldn’t make a great deal of it. Thus, I—” Elizabeth’s stroking claws ripped a visible hole in her cheek from the pressure she put onto it, creating a rather nasty, but bloodless gash that only widened the right side of her smile. The sight may have been obscured in part by the veil, but the shadow of Bathory left little to the imagination. The court recoiled. They were undead, but their austere, royal sensibilities were easily offended. “M-My lady!? Are you—” </p><p> </p><p>A singular, slow motion from one of the handmaidens silenced the lowly lord. The handmaiden raised up a singular, dagger-shaped finger, more a weapon than a digit, and put it over the veil, where her lips would be. <em> “Shhhhh.” </em> The other handmaiden that flanked Elizabeth tended to her charge. She knelt down and reached beyond the veil to wipe clean the cheek and claw that Bathory had sullied with her own wounded flesh. The maiden bowed back once the wound reknit itself shut after a few moments.</p><p> </p><p>“That will be all.” Elizabeth dismissively gestured for the center-stage lord to return to her position in the crowd. After a bit of stammering, the lord bowed deeply before shuffling back with all due haste into the U-shaped gathering. “Now,” Bathory’s attention was once again brought to the Fates. Her uncanny smile met Will’s impenetrable scowl for a few silent moments. “It seems there has been a bit of <em> miscommunication </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>Will wasted no time in firing back with a dry, yet aggravated response. “It is not <em> our </em> duty to manage <em> your </em> chain of command.”</p><p> </p><p>Elizabeth harshly flicked her wrists, gesturing for the maidens to pull aside the veil so that their queen might be beheld in full. “And yet it seems <em> you </em> knew of two escapees while <em> I </em>remained uninformed.” Now without a barrier to disguise her intent, Elizabeth was seen to indeed be smiling, but her brow was tightly knit.</p><p> </p><p>Effect took one step forward, and leered up at the throne. “Is Nikolai not <em> your </em> son?”</p><p> </p><p>Cause came forward just as her twin did. “If <em> he </em> knew of the escapees then <em> so should you </em>!” She jabbed a finger at the air to accentuate her point. </p><p> </p><p>Bathory flippantly waved her right hand, letting her wrist go limp. “Well, clearly we do not live in a perfect world,” Such a thing was impossible, after all, at least until all but Bathory remained. “So tell me: What exactly occurred during this failed attempt of yours?” </p><p> </p><p>“Hmmph.” Will straightened her posture and minded her waning patience. “The mission… was a partial failure. We discovered the witches with Nikolai’s aid, but he was unable to dispatch them, and we were unable to hinder their escape. During their retreat into a hold built by one of the Eight Traitors, our age old foes, an arcane barrier halted our pursuit. It was there where we lost sight of them. We were left with no choice but to give up the chase.” For now, Will would keep quiet about Asgall. As a wildcard, he would be of great use. </p><p> </p><p>Elizabeth sighed longingly. “A shame, truly.” Her eyes glazed over the crowd, moving from left to right, sizing up each individual’s reaction one by one. Once she had fully circled back to centering on Will, she continued: “I’m not exactly all too pleased with any of you,” Will’s ever present scowl deepend. “But I can’t say any of you are to blame either, so please, breathe easy.” Bathory straightened her posture and opened wide her arms, gesturing to the whole of the convention. The crowd all held their breath, that was, until the handmaidens beside Bathory nodded in approval. A collective sigh escaped the vampiric council, only for tension to rise once more when the great doors to the throne room, down the long, extravagant hall, swung wide. The gears of the insane castle cranked and spurred, giving way for the new arrivals.</p><p> </p><p> A grim figure, garbed in battle-worn black armor and cloth, flanked by three knights who’s silver armor was similarly scuffed, and whose shoulder capes were just as torn, stood in the doorframe. His hair was scraggly, his posture slightly hunched like an alert predator, and his gaze without aim. Nikolai’s focus shifted from left to right, and his heavy, uncomfortable breathing, was now incessant; peeking through even when he grit his teeth. The entirety of the court, The Fates included, recognized him instantly. Many of the vampires averted their gaze for the one-handed, battle-scarred warrior, while Will and the Twins all regarded him with a beleaguered glare. Katalin opened her fan and hid all but her eyes behind it. She was grimacing as any person might when spotting an exhausting sibling. Lastly, Elizabeth herself deigned to stand from her throne and walk down toward the ground level elegantly. “Ahh, Nikolai! Dearest son of mine! We were <em> just </em> speaking of you and your <em> endeavors! </em>” </p><p> </p><p>Once Nikolai reached the rest of the group, he fell to one knee and held up his boney, rotten stump of a hand; all that remained was his loosely attached thumb and pointer finger. His knights meanwhile prostrated themselves more fully, putting their heads to the stone floor. Nikolai spoke with the voice of a man possessed. If he wasn’t mad before, then he was mad now. “And you are right! You are right to scold! To decry! But our defeat was not without merit, not without gains! Without meaning!” Even Will was taken aback by how… detached this version of Nikolai seemed compared to the man they spoke with but days ago. He may have been singlemidedly obsessed with the murder of but a singular young woman, but The Fates have had less savory bedfellows in the past, so cruelty wasn’t anything new to them. This fire and brimstone style of speaking though, bombastic and full of energy that never quite fit the context, it reminded Will and The Twins of Chaos, and that was enough to be alarming on its own. </p><p> </p><p>Elizabeth on the other hand, seemed genuinely pleased by this. Sure, she was smiling in that devilish sort of way when Nikolai first arrived, but that smile quickly became real, joined by raised eyebrows and a curious lean. “Ohh? Pray tell, Nikolai: What good has come from your deception and failure?”</p><p> </p><p>Nikolai put both of his hands, yes, even the malformed stump of a hand, flat against the ground, to the court’s endless discomfort. His prostration preceded his words: “I return bearing a fortune!”</p><p> </p><p>Cause leered at him. “And what ‘fortune,’” “Is that?” Finished Effect who followed up with a leer of her own.</p><p> </p><p>Nikolai replied with gusto. “If mine eyes did not deceive me, if my mind is without clouding, then the Von Braunschbank heir and her comrade are preparing to bring the fight to us!” </p><p> </p><p>Bathory bit her lower lip, puncturing it seamlessly. Her gaze grew hungry. “Really now? And what makes you say that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Objection!” The Twins exhaustedly groaned. “In what insane world is that a ‘fortune?’ What good comes out of them planning to uproot our entire effort!?” This felt like a waste of time, and the meeting was never even officially begun! </p><p> </p><p>“Y-Yes, if I may, mother,” Katalain stepped forward, seeming just as confused as The Fates. “This is the exact <em> opposite </em> of good news!” And she too shared their urgency, having hoped that this meeting would be more productive. </p><p> </p><p>“Now, now!” Countered Elizabeth. “Allow him to speak: There is wisdom to be had in this line of thought.” Her gluttonous countenance fell again upon Nikolai as her lip healed itself. “Do continue, Nikolai.”</p><p> </p><p>The man needed no request; he was too fervid to remain quiet. “Yes! They will come to us. I know it, just as I knew that they had survived!” </p><p> </p><p>“And how <em> did </em> you know that they survived?” Hissed Will. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai smiled wildly, lifting his head up to lock eyes with the witch in white. “God revealed it to me, just as he revealed that they shall come! I did not know it at the time, but I know it now, in my heart! My soul! They will come, but not alone, no! With a host of allies, all prime for slaughter and sacrifice!” Nikolai rose up from the ground onto his knees. “Our battle! Our victory! Our ascension! It will be glorious!” In the face of a mental breakdown, Nikolai had all but completely forgotten about his apprehensions to the ritual, even if he knew absolutely nothing about it.</p><p> </p><p>“Glorious indeed….” Elizabeth chortled, barely keeping her depraved hunger from bleeding into her tone.</p><p> </p><p>“Glorious!?” Will spun about on her heels, looking to Bathory with scorn. “Do you not see that your son is not only mad, but incompetant!? Listen to him! He welcomes defeat! He invites it into your very courtroom, and you enable him!?”</p><p> </p><p>A sickening crunch of bone sounded as Nikolai pushed off of his knees and onto his feet with his mangled hand. The noise brought attention back onto him. “Dogs such as you and yours would never understand….” Elizabeth turned about face, hiding her grin. She could sense an argument brewing, one she would enjoy watching. “I myself had forgotten my place! My position! That was until I suffered greatly. Through the pain of defeat I am given clarity! Through this agony!” He clutched his ruined wrist with his “healthy” hand and held the former high. “I am reminded of my purpose!” Just about everyone in the court, save Elizabeth of course, couldn’t help but avert their eyes, or otherwise regard Nikolai with suspicion. On he rambled: “Just as Peter denied thrice that he knew The Christ, I too have failed you three times. But now! In the wake of my third and final defeat, I have come to know what truly must be done!” Was he truly mad, or was he always like this? Many of the assembled regents of the Bathory clan asked this question, but none could find satisfactory answers within themselves. “I must show them! Show them the error of their ways! I must spill oceans of blood in God’s name! In <em> your </em> name, my queen!”</p><p> </p><p>“This is drivel!” The Twins cried, spitting to the left and right respectively.</p><p> </p><p>Nikolai barred his fangs toward The Fates. His claws twitched with rage. “Be silent, worm! You and yours, you heretics, witches! You did nothing but look on and gawk as me and my men fought and bled to claim victory!” Ruefully, he set the one remaining finger on his left hand to point at them. “We could have won the day if you had actually put any <em> real </em> effort into this war of ours!”</p><p> </p><p>“Nikolai! Need I remind you that they are our <em> allies </em>!?” Katalin’s words went unheeded.</p><p> </p><p>The Twins put their left and right foot forward respectively and raised their matching fist up to around chest height. They were beyond contempt. “We explained to you very clearly,” Began Cause. “You insipid fool!” Commented Effect. “That the pact prohibits,” Cause went on so that Effect might finish their thought again. “Our direct intervention!” Finally, they spoke as one. “We have done everything in our power to achieve vengeance!” They cast their raised fists wide, gesturing harshly to the room around them. “This very vessel would not exist if not for our efforts!”</p><p> </p><p>“Everything!? Have you truly given <em> everything!? </em>” Nikolai started to stomp toward them.</p><p> </p><p>Katalin stuttered, fanning herself faster and faster as she fumbled for words. Eventually, she turned to Elizabeth and found her sitting calmly on her throne once more.“Mother, are you just going to let this happen!?” A knowing nod and smile was her response. Katalin grit her teeth and looked back at the arguing group, cursing silently to herself. </p><p> </p><p>Will turned her nose up and tightened her fists. “Our very creed demands that we give our entire lives to vengeance! <em> You </em> do not get to decide what we have and have not given!”</p><p> </p><p> Nikolai grew closer and closer until he was leaning over the witch in white. His fanged leer was but inches from her face “You had countless opportunities to snuff out the lives of the Von Braunschbank and her companion, but I never saw you raise a finger against them!” </p><p> </p><p>“Damnit Nikolai! Get a hold of yourself!” Even the nameless lords were starting to get antsy about all of this. Again, the voices of “reason” went unheard.</p><p> </p><p>Will pushed Nikolai back with but a thought, causing him to stumble. “What part about being <em> unable to intervene </em> do you not understand!? The pact forbids it!” She would not suffer such gross invasions of her space by such a brute. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai growled lowly. “And what will happen if you defy this pact, hm?! Will you perish!? Will you lose your power?! All of these things are sacrifices! Sacrifices you are clearly unwilling to make!” He came back with greater force this time, pointing directly in Will’s face with his rotten finger. “I have given my blood, and I shall give my life too if it means achieving MY vengeance! GOD’S vengeance!” His heavy breathing only grew louder as reason slipped from his mind. “Meanwhile, you sit on the sidelines, whining to others on how they aren’t working hard enough to carry out <em> your </em>desires!” The two were inches away from killing each other, and it was this near-visible tension that forced Elizabeth’s hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Enough, Nikolai!” Elizabeth snapped her claws, ordering the handmaidens by her side to proceed down from the throne. Nikolai’s gaze darted up from Will’s scornful expression to find the maidens approaching him. One flanked him on either side, but they did not touch him, not yet. “Take him and his men to be treated for their wounds.” The maidens nodded in unison and gestured toward the door. Nikolai would have retorted, but the look on Elizabeth’s face deterred him. He knew she agreed with his reasoning. It was merely a matter of decorum, something Nikolai couldn’t have cared less about. Ultimately, he turned and left, joined by his knights and the maidens.  </p><p> </p><p>Katalin came forward from the crowd with haste as Nikolai left the scene “Allow me to apologize from the bottom of our unbeating hearts, Fate witches.” The Fates turned to face Katalin wearily, their anger slowly fading, with Will’s fading the least. She remained haunted by her own consciousness, the side of her that told her to do exactly what Nikolai said she should: Break the pact, but claim vengeance, even if it meant unexistence. “Nikolai has made an embarrassment of himself, this court, <em> and </em> our queen! His behavior is unacceptable, wholly unacceptable!” She was fanning herself so hard that one might think she was stricken with summer heat. “Please, accept my apologies! <em> Our </em> apologies; this court has no place for—” The claw of a handmaiden, cold and unnatural, gently clasped Katalin’s left shoulder from behind; she’d approached so swiftly and silently as to go unseen by all. Katalin glanced over her shoulder, jumping in surprise, only to find the maiden holding a finger over her lips. She shot her focus back toward her mother as she began to tut.</p><p> </p><p>“Tch, tch, tch.” A slow shake of the head accompanied Elizabeth’s disappointed, yet soothing reprimand. “Kalatin, darling: You do not get to decide when I am embarrassed or when I must apologize. So please, do stay your tongue.” A pause, followed by a sigh and a beckoning gesture brought the handmaiden back to Elizabeth’s side. Once the maiden had taken up her post, Elizabeth continued: “Though I do not deny your assessment, Katalin. Nikolai… went <em> a bit too far </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>The Twins guffawed. “A bit?!”</p><p> </p><p>The witch in white glowered at the monarch. “You could have halted him at any moment.”</p><p> </p><p>“I could have.” Quipped Elizabeth. “But I didn’t want to. I was curious.”</p><p> </p><p>“We have no time for games, leech.” Will was starting to regret ever suggesting this meeting. “We came here to discuss strategy: To ensure that victory would be assured….” She cocked her head just a smidge forward. “To be certain that you are holding your end of this bargain.” </p><p> </p><p>Elizabeth leaned back in her throne, amused. “Is my castle not caught in a snare? Are my warriors not frozen in battle, persecuting your vengeance?” She leaned her head slightly against two of her claws, piercing the flesh of her temple, though she didn’t seem to care.</p><p> </p><p>“And what has your clan done since?” Will scanned the room, making sure everyone present knew of her disdain. “Foolish as he may be, at least Nikolai has shown effort! We’ve heard no updates from the rest of you since we last met.” </p><p> </p><p>Katalin let out a deep sigh. “If I may, mother.” A gentle, approving nod from Elizabeth granted Katalin the floor. “Thank you.” The Fates faced her as she pulled out a few rolled up papers from pockets in her dress. “These are the full reports from my agents in the field. We spread them about the countryside while en route to Luna Isle so that they might begin to influence and infiltrate the larger systems of the modern world. Now that they’ve had some time, they’ve been able to become active.” Will silently crossed her arms about her chest. The only noise she made was that of a growling sigh, one that tempered her building anger. Katalin paid it no mind, and instead focused on her documents. “Several of our spies managed to seduce a few operatives from the British Security Service. These inside men have recently informed me that certain military commanders have taken a great deal of interest in investigating our not-so-subtle storm…. Useful as it is to keep the daylight out, it does seem to have drawn unwanted attention.”</p><p> </p><p>Cause rolled her eyes. “As if the giant flying castle crawling with Fae and monsters wouldn’t.” </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Irregardless </em>,” Chided Katalin. “It’s something to be concerned about. I wouldn’t be surprised if they attempt to involve themselves, and possibly even ally themselves with our foes.” </p><p> </p><p>Will wrinkled her nose. “From what We understand of the mundane world and its politics, that will be unlikely…. That said, do you believe it possible that they may take part in an assault of their own?” Finally, they were able to discuss something pertinent.</p><p> </p><p>“Not anytime soon, so long as we keep our noses clean.” Katalin flipped to another scroll and began to read it over carefully. </p><p> </p><p>The master necromancer stepped forward in the meantime, hobbling forward as he coughed. “Our minions have remained… elusive.” His voice and tone were absolutely <em> slimy </em>. “Our dispatch teams continue to evade the prying eyes of the mortal gentry and their so-called protectors. As far as they know, the magical world has simply turned against mankind.” Suddenly, he paused, and smacked his bone dry lips together, considering his words carefully. </p><p> </p><p>“Something on your mind?” Asked Katalin as she peered up from her papers. </p><p> </p><p>“There is but one snag our forces have encountered: The nearby town of Porthcurno yet resists our strikes. Three times now have our minions been… bested…” The master necromancer swallowed back a horrible bit of spit and vomit. “By the layfolk. They have been rallied by witches from near and far…. Our last raid counted at least fifty broom riding heathens…. To say nothing of the wretches on the ground.” </p><p> </p><p>Katalin furrowed her brow. “And when exactly did you learn of this? </p><p> </p><p>The necromancer craned his neck to face Katalin., making a disgusting popping sound as he did so. “Four…? Yes…. Four days ago.” He sounded permanently uninterested, save for when he was angry.</p><p> </p><p>Katalin’s glare only deepened. “Why was this not immediately reported?”</p><p> </p><p>The master necromancer wheezed and coughed before clarifying. He waved a boney finger as he did so. “At first, we didn’t… put stock in the perception of maddened monsters.” He lazily regarded The Fates. “It is their magic which binds them, magic we do not understand, nor wish to…. It is a foul affront to the Lord.” A bit of his bandaging came undone then, allowing for the holes in his cheek to be clearly visible. He grumbled and cursed in Hungarian as he bound it back about his face. </p><p> </p><p>The Twins rolled their eyes. “We could always <em> leave </em> you know.” Said Cause. </p><p> </p><p>“Honestly, does your court ever have anything useful to say without it preceding something asinine?” Asked Effect.</p><p> </p><p>Will raised up her left hand flatley. “Cause. Effect. Withhold your insults.” Both twins sighed and nodded. Effect threw her arms up lazily while Cause crossed them about her chest. Will continued then: “Do you see now why we must eradicate them? Two witches escaping is within the acceptable margin of error,” Though if Will had her way, that margin would be zero. “But it is allowing for others to learn of our plan. They will contest us, and should they win, there will be <em> grave </em> consequences.” The Pursuer’s portends seemed accurate, and that only unnerved Will further.</p><p> </p><p>“We understand you’re reasoning, but….” Elizabeth examined her nails casually, flexing each of her claws in and out. “You seem to have forgotten <em> mine </em>. The reason we’ve captured these witches rather than slaughter them on sight.”</p><p> </p><p>Effect scoffed. “If you plan to hold out, then wouldn’t it be wiser to recall all of our forces instead of wasting our time on your petty raids?” </p><p> </p><p>“Indeed! Your wanton terror attacks serve the pact little, and serve you less.” Added Cause. The focus turned to Bathory at that comment. </p><p> </p><p>Elizabeth hummed and rolled her neck around as she considered the suggestion. Eventually, she shrugged. “Very well. All of you, pass this order down to your subordinate lords and captains: Every creature under our command is to return to Luna Isle immediately.” The lords and ladies of the court finally had something to nod in general agreement about. “Now, before we continue with our reports, Fate witches, I would know how your efforts are coming along in regard to the counterspell.” And now the eyes of the court were on Will and the Twins. </p><p> </p><p>“We would know why you need yet <em> more </em> prisoners first.” Demanded Will.</p><p> </p><p>“In time I shall tell you, Will.” Elizabeth gestured with an open, beckoning hand. “Before the night is done, in fact, you will know <em> everything </em>.” The two stared at each other in brief silence. Where Will scowled, Bathory smiled.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually, the former sighed flatly and gave into the initial request. “Sadly, our patron and our studies predict that a counterspell would take <em> months </em> to engineer.” Months of time that she was unsure they had. “All the more reason why we must find those escaped witches before they can assemble a counter attack as our patron predicted.”</p><p> </p><p>Elizabeth licked her lips and fangs. “Your patron seems to know quite a bit about the future, don’t they?” </p><p> </p><p>Will was quick to retort. “Our patrons’ abilities are none of your concern.” </p><p> </p><p>“My, you’re very defensive about all of this pact and patron business. I find it… intriguing.” Elizabeth lazily clasped her hands together as she leaned forward in her throne. The Fates all unknowingly stiffened in posture. “If you’ll forgive my rudeness, I must admit that Nikolai… brutish as he may be, had a point when he said that there were clearly things you weren’t willing to sacrifice.”</p><p> </p><p>Will’s eyes fixated on the mural on the stained glass window behind the throne. “Can the same not be said of yourself?” The decadence of this place disgusted her. </p><p> </p><p>Bathory laughed heartily. Her laugh sent shivers up the courts’ spines; even Katalin and The Twins felt their hairs stand on end. Will, as expected, remained stoic. “Ahhh…. I love talking to you, have I mentioned that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Regretfully.”</p><p> </p><p>“Haha! Oh, were you any less useful or enjoyable, I’d have you gutted!” Elizabeth’s laugh began to fade. “But you're the one woman in the room who can truthfully claim to be a vertebrate whilst speaking to me,” The court almost fell into a dejected uproar, but the presence of the handmaidens kept their wounded egos in check. “And for that, I can do naught but revel in our discourse!” </p><p> </p><p>“Save your revelling for when the battle is won!” Chided Effect.</p><p> </p><p>“Hmmph.” Elizabeth snickered. She leaned back once more, offering an open handed gesture to her subjects and guests. “Then we needn’t wait long. We’re reaching the end of this… campaign of ours.” Bathory opened her posture, letting her arms rest easy on her throne. “But, as you’ve implied, we are not quite victorious yet.” Her gaze fell upon Katalin who had long since paused from her report-reading. “Katalin.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes?”</p><p> </p><p>“Would you agree that we don’t have several months worth of time to wait around for a counterspell?” </p><p> </p><p>“I…” Katalin hesitated. “Would, yes, but that’s only <em> without </em> our intervention.” She gestured to The Fates. “You four, er, three, have already proven that you can appear anywhere at any time, and that you’re quite capable at sowing chaos, despite lacking your aptly named fourth.” </p><p> </p><p>Will pursed her lips. “You would have us create a distraction?” </p><p> </p><p>“That was my first thought, but I’m not sure if something like that would actually harry an investigation, or spur it on.” Katalin went back to her various letters of correspondence. “Otherwise, our agents are reporting that things are going well, and that no other major players have taken notice of us.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t we ask that patron of yours what would happen?” Elizabeth’s query was only partly sarcastic. </p><p> </p><p>“It—” Will paused to correct herself. “<em> They </em> do not answer when they are beckoned. Not without good reason.” Her well managed stonewall of an exterior served to hide the lies by omission amidst the honest truths. “And, unfortunately, our oracle is the one who is currently disabled.” Without Chaos, contacting The Pursuer would be… difficult to say the least. It wouldn't be worth the inordinate amount of time and effort that could be put toward the counterspell. </p><p> </p><p>Elizabeth clicked her tongue. “The black robed witch is an oracle?” Was that a tinge of unease in her voice? </p><p> </p><p>“She was.” Cause curtly answered. </p><p> </p><p>“She gave up the practice centuries ago.” Added Effect. Both Twins turned their heads slightly away. Chaos may have ceased being a formal oracle, but the visions never stopped; in fact, they only got worse as time went on. </p><p> </p><p>Elizabeth’s smile returned, her expression calmed. “Is your patron an oracle?”</p><p> </p><p>“We have made ourselves clear.” Will made a quick horizontal chopping motion with her right hand. “Our patron is none of your concern. End of discussion.”</p><p> </p><p>Elizabeth scoffed. “We have laid all of our cards out on the table. It’s only—”</p><p> </p><p>“We doubt that.” Interrupted Will.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> It’s only fair </em>,” Reaffirmed Bathory, sounding genuinely bitter for just a moment. “That you do the same.”</p><p> </p><p>“We do not answer to you. <em> End of discussion. </em>” </p><p> </p><p>Will was beginning to lose her patience again, and Katalin could tell. She stepped forward a few paces and gestured calmingly. “Let’s try to stay focused here. Ultimately, our goals are aligned. And we—”</p><p> </p><p>“But are they? Are they <em> truly </em> aligned?” Bathory’s musings pushed them ever closer to conflict. </p><p> </p><p>“M-Mother, you can’t be seriously—” Katalin and the court’s attention was pulled every which way as The Fates and Bathory started jabbing at one another. </p><p> </p><p>“Our goals are,” Began Cause. “Plain and simple!” Finished Effect. “Vengeance is our aim, and vengeance shall be our end!” Together, they took a firm, almost all too defensive stance. </p><p> </p><p>“If vengeance will be your end then you would have taken it already, <em> along </em> with your own lives.” Nikolai was right to suspect his mother of thinking as he did. </p><p> </p><p>Where Will hesitated, struck by her conflicting thoughts, Cause and Effect fired back. “Just because we aren’t braindead zealots like most of your underlings doesn’t mean we aren’t committed!” The twins crossed their arms about their chests.</p><p> </p><p>“D-Does it matter!? We both want the witches of Luna Nova dead, so let’s focus on how we’ll kill them!” Sadly, Katalin yet again failed to put a stop to this battle of egos. Neither Will nor Elizabeth would leave a slight uncontested. </p><p> </p><p>Finally, Will managed to force out a reasonable defense. “There is... more to life than vengeance.” Will’s bitterness was sadder sounding than she intended, so she corrected herself going forward, summoning up more of her emotional barriers to cut off the flow from within. “An endgame without consideration given to a postgame is paramount to suicide. If we truly wanted release, and only release, then we would have never taken up the pact in the first place.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ahhhh…. I see now.” Elizabeth chuckled, planting her hands gingerly in her lap. “You're thinking about more than just exacting your revenge. There’s a <em> postgame </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>Will twitched. Mentally, she had just kicked herself. “Were you not listening?” Deflection would do her no good though. She’d let slip a valuable implication. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, no, I was listening intently.” Elizabeth flashed her fangs. Her goading had paid off. “I just have to ask now: What do you plan to do once all of this is said and done? Clearly you gain nothing from leaving us to rule the world,” And by us, Elizabeth of course meant <em> her </em> . “And given how much you seem to detest our very presence… your distaste for our way of governance, your constant questioning of our methods…” Elizabeth rolled her left hand along her wrist, jogging her thoughts along. “Really: I’ve been <em> perfectly </em> honest with you,” Though the terrible hunger in her eyes said otherwise. “But you continue to treat us as mere tools; a means to an end. That seems to be the nature of your pact, after all. Delegate, command, but never act directly to get what you want.” The court started to look and sound restless. Katalin was the only one to keep her wits about her; she couldn’t help but shoot a desperate, sharp glare at her mother and motion for her to be quiet, as if she were a side-stage crew mate trying to prevent an actor from embarrassing themself. Elizabeth took note, but only paid her daughter mind with a flat palm. “You rely on tools. But we,” She gestured to the court and then herself. “ <em> I </em>will not merely be a tool.”</p><p> </p><p>The Twins fumed with frustration. They stomped in front of Will before their would-be superior could retort. “As if you’re one to talk! Look at you! You sit on a throne built by slaves! All of your ruling is done from the comfort of a throne while your lessers die in droves!” Each Twin pointed to one end of the horseshoe shaped gathering before dragging their fingers along that horizon to meet in the center. “Even these pampered dogs of yours would be expended without a second thought if you were forced to choose between your life or theirs!” </p><p> </p><p>Will latched on to this argument: She felt a great need to dispel this feud here and now, though she didn’t yet know why. “We don’t suffer hypocrites, Bathory!” She floated just above and past the Twins so as to make as firm a defense as she could. “Now drop this idiotic line of questioning so we can be about this meeting!’ </p><p> </p><p>“Yes! Please mother, this is only driving a deeper wedge between us!” Katalin was practically begging for things to return to “normal” at this point.  </p><p> </p><p>Elizabeth sighed. “Katalin…. Can you really not see <em> why </em> I’m doing this?” Katalin was beside herself; confusion dominated her expression. Bathory shook her head. “You really don’t get it, do you? A shame. I’m genuinely disappointed that Nikolai of all people managed to surpass you in terms of development.”</p><p> </p><p>“What the hell is that supposed to mean!?” Katalin barred fangs fiercely. “You heard him! He’s lost all sense!”</p><p> </p><p>Elizabeth chuckled dryly. “Daughter of mine, by rejecting the logic of this world, he has come to understand how to command it.”</p><p> </p><p>“We see <em> incompetence </em> runs in the family!” The Twin’s insult was ignored. </p><p> </p><p>Elizabeth steepled her claws together and leaned forward, her eyes dead set on Katalin. “There is a reason I chose you two as my most favored. Together, if unleashed to your full potential, you would emulate my <em> magnificence </em> . Nikolai would be my savagery, my bloodlust, my hunger, and you? You would be my tact, my voice, my sharp wit, and my beguiling beauty. But for either of you to become as such, you needed to <em> let go </em> of the notion that anything mattered save the endgame, save for our desires; MY desires.” Slowly, she reclined back into her seat. “But to have done that, you would have to understand what my endgame is. Nikolai understands, even if his witlessness may imply otherwise. I saw it in his eyes. I heard it in his voice. He is ready for the end.” The court, once suspicious of the Fates, now found themselves with foes on both sides. Bathory’s cold, harrowing tone disquieted them all. Elizabeth, of course, took note. “Leave us.” She had grown weary of wearing masks. It was time to lay out the reality of things before her once allies, and now tools: The Fates. </p><p> </p><p>“What?” One lord asked. </p><p> </p><p>“Leave you?” Katalin wondered who Elizabeth spoke of. Similarly, The Fates looked between one another in confusion. </p><p> </p><p>“All but The Fates: Leave.” It was time to make good on that earlier promise; all would be revealed before the night was over.</p><p> </p><p>Katalin grew more indignant. “You can’t be serious!”</p><p> </p><p>“What is the meaning of this?! Are we not your inner circle!?” Another lord yelled. </p><p> </p><p>“We were promised!” Coughed the master necromancer. “And now we are dismissed!?”</p><p> </p><p>“You are.” Elizabeth’s smile had fully gone. Only a scornful grimace remained, inhumane, and uncaring. “You will be rewarded as you are all due, but I no longer require your counsel. The way forward is clear. The free-roaming witches shall bring their host of allies to us. They shall dispel the stoppage of time for us, and then we shall feast not only on the witches of Luna Nova, but on all who dare trespass against us. Our power shall only grow with each of their number whom we capture and process.” </p><p> </p><p>One particular noble had grown angrier than the rest. “The Fates were right! You’re inviting defeat into this courtroom!” Daggered glares were sent his way, from Elizabeth and her maidens. </p><p> </p><p>With a snap of Elizabeth’s claw, the handmaidens on the second floor all leapt down and landed gracefully, near silently, around the group. Each of them wielded their own claws like an entire handful of blades. Some of the lords reached for their weapons, but most backed off toward the center. “Remove them if they will not go. I demand privacy with The Fates.” The maidens drew closer, tightening their surround until  the first of the court grew foolish and desperate enough to strike out at them. The “brave” lord hissed as she sliced side-long against the maiden before her, only to find her blade caught in a bind by the women in white. The attacking lord gasped fearfully. Her blade had been caught, stopped even, by the maidens claws alone! The horror spread throughout the lord's body as the maiden deftly entwined her fingers around either side of the sword, preventing the lord from easily retracting it. In mere seconds, that twined-bind was ended by the maiden harshly ripping her catching claws away, shattering the sword into pieces. </p><p> </p><p>“Brave.” Commented Elizabeth. “But futile.” The disarmed lord dropped her useless sword and fell onto her rear, scamping back into the crowd. </p><p> </p><p>“This is madness, mother!” </p><p> </p><p>“You have no right to object, Katalin! You don’t even understand the truth of my endgame, so how could you determine what is and isn’t best for me?!” Elizabeth’s fangs grew, extending down to the end of her chin. Hunger pervaded every aspect of her being. “Take them away! Bar all entry to the throne and my quarters until the ritual is primed and ready!” The Fates meanwhile took to the air, confused and uncertain of how to proceed. All they could do was watch as the court was wholly escorted out of the room like prisoners. Once the great iron doors became sealed, Elizabeth snapped her fingers again. “Now, come down here, Fates. We have one matter left to settle.”</p><p> </p><p>Will grit her teeth. “We are not your slaves!” She floated downward, but not to the floor to be addressed, but toward the throne so that she might confront Bathory directly. Cause and Effect joined their judicious sister, flanking her on the left and right respectively. “Now tell us the meaning of this! Immediately!”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t act dumb, Will. It’s unbecoming of you.” When Will refused to back off, and indeed drew ever closer to Bathory, the queen of night sighed, rolling her eyes. “If you really must have it spelt out for you then listen well, for I shall only say it once: You are not bold enough to defy your own master, to <em> be </em> your own master, and so you must follow its guidelines. Thus, you came to us, to me, for you needed someone to do your dirty work for you.” Elizabeth gestured to the castle about her. “Don’t be mistaken: You weren’t <em> unhelpful </em> . Without you, yes, this <em> would </em> have been impossible for us….” Her gesturing claw tightened into a terrible fist. The tips of her sharpened nails pierced her own palm. “But now you’ve embedded yourself so deeply in my cause that you have no way of escaping it.”</p><p> </p><p>“If this is a declaration of betrayal, then We will not hesitate to obliterate you!” Will’s fists glowed bright and white as her arcane power swelled. Magic bled from her eyes like the rays of an angry sun. </p><p> </p><p>“We built you this castle!” Began Cause, whose hands became solid magma; the fires of which matched the redness of her cloak. “And we can just as easily destroy it!” Finished Effect, whose eyes became electric, and whose hands became enveloped in a layer of roiling sea-water.</p><p> </p><p>Elizabeth smiled. “But you won’t.” The sheer confidence and calmness of her declaration gave pause to the Fate witches. “For if you do… you lose.” Bathory shrugged. “It’s always been as simple as that. You need us to carry out your vengeance, and until then, I am untouchable.”</p><p> </p><p>Will felt a pang of anxiety shoot through her chest. It was the kind of heart-dropping sensation one felt when they were caught in a lie, or accused of something damning. <em> “Wait, why are We even concerned?” </em> In this case, the strangeness came from the inconsequentiality of it all. <em> “If she plans to betray us, and admits so openly, then how does she expect to have our support!? She knows she isn’t powerful enough to </em> — <em> ” </em> But then it struck her: The Pursuer’s promise. <em> “There will be arrivals!” </em>Will, for the first time in ages, looked nervous. “No….” Will muttered, her fists becoming soft, limp, and her eyes returning to normal.</p><p> </p><p>“Is that fear I sense in you, dear Will?” Bathory’s smile widened, and she didn’t even know why Will was afraid. But it didn’t matter. The reaction alone told her all she needed to know: The queen in crimson had mated the king in white.</p><p> </p><p>“W-Will?” The Twins asked as one. Their elemental powers receded into them as nervousness spread from their stalwart sister into them. “What's wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>“She’s realizing that if you kill me here and now that the consequences shall be dire indeed.” Elizabeth relaxed in her throne, wanting for a cup of blood to sup on. “I do not know what you wish to see happen once your vengeance is complete, but clearly you feel it is not only a righteous cause from your own self centered perspective, but from <em> the world’s </em> perspective, no?”</p><p> </p><p>The Twins spoke where Will remained stunned and silent. Cause went first: “And how can you assume that!?”</p><p> </p><p>Then Effect: “We’ve mentioned nothing of the sort!” </p><p> </p><p>Elizabeth countered quickly. “But you have: Constantly even. Every insinuation that we are wicked, leeches, unworthy, and monstrous… really, I have to wonder why you even allied with us in the first place. You should have known where this would have gone had you taken the time to measure who we were, who <em> I </em> am.” A maiden appeared from the shadows. She bore a cup of blood and brought it to the throne, having been summoned without word nor gesture, for she knew instinctively what her queen desired. Elizabeth took up the cup and smelled it. Her body quivered with delight. Finally, after taking a sip, she deigned to continue: “Your last and only chance to stop me was when I mentioned the ritual. But, even then, I downplayed its effectiveness. Not only will I be able to destabilize the modern world, but I will supersede you, <em> and </em> your patron. I shall become a god, immaculate, and unmatched.” </p><p> </p><p>The Twins fired back hastily. “You’re delusional!” </p><p> </p><p>“Am I?” Elizabeth chuckled. She sounded so jovial, as if this were but another wine drinking party, despite the electric tension in the air. “Well, yes, but you act as if I care about anything else that isn’t what I desire. You couldn’t be farther from the truth…. And you, dearest Fates, do not plan for me to live long after the battle won, do you?”</p><p> </p><p>Will continued to remain silent. She was crestfallen, beaten, but The Twins refused to give in. “So what if we did plan to kill you?” Questioned Cause. “How can you be so sure that we won’t be able to erase you once this is all over!?” </p><p> </p><p>“Have you not SEEN our power?!” Added Effect. “On the day of the battle, when time froze, did you not see the great blinding light that unmade… the…. the... The fact that I cannot even speak of the thing anymore should be enough to prove to you that you cannot defy the pact! You cannot stand up to us!”</p><p> </p><p>“You won’t get a chance to use that power, and as I said before: Should you kill me while you have the chance, then, well….” Elizabeth sized up Will’s expression. “By my estimate, your patron shall not be pleased.” Cause and Effect went wide eyed. Now the realization struck them just as it struck Will. They were despondent, silent; their spirits were crushed. </p><p> </p><p>A great pause followed before Will finally spoke up. “How could you have known…?” The witch in white felt an olde despair well up in her chest, one she had formerly suppressed. </p><p> </p><p>“I wasn’t lying when I said I thought that you and I were alike, Will.” Elizabeth took another sip of blood, savoring every drop. “But you said it yourself: We are <em> nothing </em> alike.” She set aside the goblet for now and focused on Fates, letting her claws rest easy in her lap. “You see: Both statements are true. We are both women driven to the edge of morality, of depravity, beholden only to that which haunts our every waking moment. Where we differ is in what haunts us. For you, it is vengeance, but also justice… and maybe even <em> longing </em>.” Bathory cocked her head inquisitively.</p><p> </p><p>Will’s brow twitched at the mention of the word “longing.” Her despair fell away to rage. “DON’T YOU DARE SPEAK OF WHAT I YEARN FOR!” The True Will roared to life in a fit of grief. Her bright aura flared. </p><p> </p><p>“Haha! And there it is!” Elizabeth slowly clapped, prompting Will to lose focus again. “You <em> keep telling me </em> what I only insinuate! Hahahaha….” She held her face, falling into a laughing fit. “For god’s sake Will! I’m a <em> queen </em> ! It has always been my nature to manipulate others, and you’re no different!” Her hungry eyes peaked through the spaces between her claws, eying the stunned witches curiously. “And before you go moralizing at me: I am well aware of what I am, what I do, and what I am about to do. There is no grand revelation to be had on my part, only the bumbling realization on yours that you dealt with someone that you never should have in the first place. It’s <em> my job </em> to read people, to understand them, and use that understanding against them. Every comment, every jab, every little pin-prick and nudging on my part: It was all done to reveal what you really wanted, because I knew from the start once I heard of why you needed us, that I could turn that clause if inaction against you. All it took was for you to let slip your lips about a post game, and with that, I had all of the pieces I needed to in order to hazard a safe guess.” </p><p> </p><p>“So you never knew…? It was all just a game on your end?” Will floated down to the steps unknowingly. She felt faint. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Now </em> you’re starting to get it!” Elizabeth threw her arms out wide, sending the goblet of blood crashing down the stairs. It stained every step on the way down to Will’s feet where it stopped. “Careful guesswork and politicking. All done away while you wasted time with sons and daughters. After all, when one is able to delegate every task they have, they have an overabundance of time on their hands. Time I spent planning, plotting, calculating.” She snapped her fingers, demanding more blood, and so it came to her. “Think about it: Even if I was wrong, and you had no greater agenda, nor any intention of killing me once Luna Nova was destroyed… then why would this matter? I would simply explain everything as I’m doing now, and we would be about our business. You would get your vengeance, and I would get my power. Everyone would win…. But…. In a game where the players have contradictory win conditions, there can only be one victor, and that will be me.” This time, Bathory drank the whole cup in one go, soaking her face and dress in crimson fluids. With a delighted sigh, she dropped the cup and let it clatter down, just like the rest, before making a final statement. “And when I am victorious, there will be nothing left but me. Nothing but I and the blood of the unworthy that will forever feed me.”</p><p> </p><p>As Cause and Effect descended to join Will on the ground, comforting her with a gentle hand upon either shoulder, Will pleaded with Bathory. “Please, We beg of you! Let humanity live as  it does!. Take command, rule their societies, brutalize them, do whatever! But let them live!” The Pursuer’s warning haunted her yet. “Our foe, our TRUE foe, a being known to us as The Deceiver, it too wants to destroy humanity, and if it succeeds, if YOU succeed for it, then you may not have a world to rule over!” Alas, tyrants could neither be bargained nor reasoned with. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you think I fear this ‘deceiver?’ What? Is it an all powerful entity? A god? Were you not listening? I shall become a god! Either it shall recognize me as an equal, <em> as its superior </em>, or it will do battle with me for the fate of this rock!” Slowly but surely, Bathory’s cold, calculated tone turned to one of madness, narcissism, but most chiefly, to one of hunger. “Our duel shall rend the stars! Sunder the earth! Again and again we immortals will clash! We will leave a permanent mark on the universe as we dance from galaxy to galaxy, planet to planet, fighting, dying, and rebirthing until the end of time! The world will be remembered only as one of many where I did battle! Where I fed! Where basked in the glory of my own perfection! I WILL BE THE END OF HISTORY!” Then she fell silent, grinning wide, showing each of her blood soaked teeth like the monster she was. Ghoulish as she appeared, the end of her diatribe came softly, gently. “It will be a beautiful end indeed….” A tear escaped her, running red with the blood that stained her cheek.</p><p> </p><p>The Fates were beyond response. They had come face to face with perhaps the greatest megalomaniac that the world had seen in centuries, and worst of all, she was actually capable of achieving what she desired. Their minds all went to their prisoner, to Asgall. They knew he was a vampire, but they did not know how he could do the things he did, why he looked the way he looked, and now they understood. Asgall was the product of a ritual, a ritual the Bathorys planned to wield for their Queen’s sole benefit, despite her promises of shared power. Where Asgall, unbeknownst to the Fates, only used <em> just enough </em> blood to ascend, Bathory would use <em> every last drop </em> present on the island, starting with the witches, then the mortal servants, and then her own court. With but the minimum power gained from the ritual, Asgall was able to stand up to Will in a show of pure magical strength, and while it was nebulous as to who might win in a dragged act engagement, Will was uneased by the fact that any creature outside of powerful eld beings could stand up to her or her sisters. The truly despairing fact though lay in The Pursuer’s portends: It warned that if Bathory was not culled immediately after their victory was assured, then she would wreak untold havoc on the world, and Will was uncertain if they would ever get the chance to disrupt this ritual without inadvertently damning themselves to failure; damning the world to an arrival. </p><p> </p><p>Bathory spoke up after a few minutes of silence, confident in the notion that The Fates had given up the ghost and accepted that they’d been outplayed. “I don’t <em> mean </em> to upset you three. I take <em> very little </em> joy in causing suffering. In fact, I actually pity my victims….” A chuckle escaped her bloody lips. “But I take <em> too much </em>joy in the fruits of said suffering to really stop myself, so here we are: At the beginning of the end of the world.”</p><p> </p><p>Will finally summoned up enough spite to growl out a response. “What if you fail?” Her scowl began to return. She did not endure over a millennium of pain and grief only to be brought low by a parasite. “Your victory is not guaranteed, and our patron shall come regardless if you win or lose. It is stronger than The Deceiver. It will not brook to your insanity. There will be no remembering what never existed in the first place.”</p><p> </p><p>Elizabeth’s scowl faded. “Then so be it: This world shall fall silent. There will be blood. Either the witches shall survive, and I will perish, thus dooming the world to the wrath of your patron….” But only for a moment. “Or, the witches will die, and I will become more powerful than you could have ever conceived.” Hers was the smile of an evil untold yet pervasive around the world; the logical, or perhaps the illogical conclusion of dominion and hierarchy based upon the self given right to rule, the self determined certainty of superiority. “Now go, <em> Fate Witches </em> , for the very thing by which you call yourself stands against you, and you have <em> no way </em>of meaningfully changing it….”</p><p> </p><p>Cause and Effect remained silent, defeated, but Will, ever determined, even in the darkest of days, in the face of The Deceiver's great betrayal, and in the face of a monster who yet surpassed The Deceiver in terms of wickedness, left Bathory with a warning, one she spoke through grit teeth as heat rose around: “Underestimate us and the disciples of The Eight Traitor’s at your own peril creature.” Leech was now too kind of a term. “Humanity is anything but servile, and We shall do <em> everything </em> in our power to preserve it.” Nikolai’s and Elizabeth’s words, their critique of Will’s lacking in resolve, would come back to haunt them soon enough. “Make your peace Bathory,” Will rigidly extended her left arm out and cut a hole through reality, a gateway to their domain of hate. “For your ascension shall <em> never </em> come to pass.” Her eyes remained locked onto Elizabeth’s own. Neither blinked as Will strolled sidelong through the portal, followed shortly after by Cause and Effect who darted in for cover. </p><p> </p><p>At last, silence was returned to the courtroom. Elizabeth sighed pleasingly, wiped her face, and examined the blood on her palm. “Ahhh…. Blessed blood.” It felt good to finally be rid of any pretense. “Together, we shall paint this reality red.” She could hold herself back no longer, and licked it clean. Her licking soon turned to biting, gnawing, enough that a finger came loose and chunks of flesh dropped to her feet. She had to force herself to stop, throwing her head back in depraved ecstasy. “MORE!” She demanded, and so her handmaidens obliged. “Bring me more blood! And don’t stop until I am drowning in it!” The future looked red indeed.  </p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Back in Ludinghal, about thirty minutes later…. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The final page had been turned. Six, it took six pages in total for Constanze to articulate everything important that had happened: From her discovery of Ludinghal’s destruction, the Sanctum of The Nine, the attack on Luna Nova itself, halted by time, the acceptance of Amanda as her sister, Vaal, Jehanne, The Order and how she found it through Maxwell, Asgall’s very existence, the trials, and now her travel from Finland to Ludinghall, all done in order to save as many lives as possible; all to recover her lost heritage and reforge the blades Dyrnwyn and Carnwennan. It was… quite the laundry list of events to sift through, certainly, but reality was seldom uncomplicated. </p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“By The Nine…. So much has happened in so little time….” </em> </b> Usually, it couldn’t help but sound sing-songy, but with such terrible news thrust before its eyes, the spirit was unable to even unwittingly sing its words. <b> <em>“We hadn’t ever thought that things would get this bad without the order….”</em> </b> </p><p> </p><p>Having been given a chance to recuperate and consolidate her emotions, Constanze felt comfortable speaking again. “It’s bleak out there.” She hesitated whether or not to mention Speartip’s presence in the town, eventually having decided against it for now. Things were complicated enough as is, and trying to make sense of the PMC’s machinations in this moment felt like folly. “But we can fix it. We’ve got a plan. Maxwell had allies. We can stop Bathory, we just need help.” </p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“We don’t doubt it’s possible, but We also remember the first time one of our ancestors fought the Bathorys. It was a suicide mission.” </em> </b> The spirit set aside the slightly singed papers before it began to “pace,” in the air. <b> <em>“The only reason Emanuel, one of your ancestors, and Meabh,” </em> </b> Pronounced may-ev. <b> <em>“His closest friend, got out of that damnable castle alive is because Bathory offered them an ultimatum.” </em> </b></p><p> </p><p>“I know.” Constanze sighed. “They’d kill as many of the revolting peasants as they could if Elizabeth died. Offered to be imprisoned instead.”</p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“Aye, that’s how it went.” </em> </b> The spirit nodded agreebly. <b> <em>“We assume that Maxwell fellow told you?” </em> </b> Constanze nodded in turn. <b> <em>“We see…. Hmmmm….” </em> </b> The spirit returned to its pacing, puzzling out the knowledge it now had in order to try and make sense of it. <b> <em>“You said you had a plan: What is it exactly?”</em> </b> </p><p> </p><p>Constanze went over to the anvil, rounding the shining piece, and put her hands down flat on its face. “We’re going to reforge the swords. Then we make a video asking for anyone who is capable of helping to go to Porthcurno. From there, we’ll take every we can get and attack the island.” From there on, the plan delved into speculation, but she felt confident about what her mind immediately went to: “We’ll sneak over there as much as we can so Lotte can speak to the spirit of the Hologarium and ask it to unfreeze time. Once time is unfrozen, we can all help the Antiquarians, professors, Fae staff, and students still holding out. Once the ground is secure, we take to the blimp. Cut the head off the snake. Release any prisoners.” </p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“Easier saaaaaaid than doooone.”</em> </b> The songlike nature of its speech was starting to return. </p><p> </p><p>“We know.” Constanze held up one hand and used a telekinetic spell to call over a spare hammer from the wall of tools. “But we have to try.” The coming battle would mean everything to Constanze. Her vengeance, her love, and her very existence were all deeply invested into driving back the long shadow that Castle Bathory cast. There was no other way but forward. “I need you to help me.” </p><p> </p><p>The Spirit smiled. <b> <em>“Our help you shall have!” </em> </b> It practically bounded across the room to float on the opposite side of the forge. <b> <em>“Weeee require oooonly a wooooord, and our miiiight shall be youuurs!” </em> </b> It took a deep, stage performer’s bow. <b> <em>“Direct us! Dearest descendant!” </em> </b></p><p> </p><p>Constanze’s typically flat expression sported a surprising half-smile, as if Amanda was rubbing off on her. “If I’m going to reforge the swords, I need to be a witch-smith. Just need to know how, and I’ll do it.”</p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“Oh! Well! It’s simple!” </em> </b> Constanze leaned in. <b> <em>“Just do as you normally do! You’re a Von Braunschbank! The song runs in our family!” </em> </b> Then she lowered her head and sighed deeply. <b> <em>“What? You said you needed to know how to do it, and We told you!” </em> </b>The spirit shrugged. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze took a brief moment to breathe in and out, mustering her patience. “We, I mean I,” The spirit’s usage of We as a way of self identifying was getting to her. “Don’t know what that means. I hear it, but I don’t get it.” </p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“Uhhh….” </em> </b> The Spirit twiddled its thumbs. Its expression shifted in all sorts of strange ways, as if it was thinking <em> really </em> hard, like how Akko looked whenever she took a test. <b> <em>“Well… it just… plays and you… you know…. Go along with it.” </em> </b> Constanze palmed her face. <b> <em>“N-Now we’re not TRYING to be obtuse! It’s merely a matter of muuuuuuusiiiiiic! Its not something that you deconstruct like an equation!” </em> </b></p><p> </p><p>“Almost all musical theory is just math.” Fired back Constanze as dully as she could. </p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“Well, We mean…. It’s…. Oh you get the point!” </em> </b>The Spirit threw up its arms in defeat.</p><p> </p><p>“I <em> really </em> don’t.” </p><p> </p><p>The spirit sighed. <b> <em>“Ok, so let’s start from square one then: You know how to forge a normal sword, right?” </em> </b> Constanze nodded confidently. <b> <em>“Now, We want you to imagine that process, specifically, we want you to imagine DOING that process, but not… normally.” </em> </b> Constanze’s firm, hands-at-her-hips stare bade The Spirit explain itself. It did so, dropping the songlike flow of its verbiage. <b> <em>“So the major steps remain the same, let’s make that clear enough: Nothing fundamentally will change about how you smelt, pour, or shape anything you’d make. What matters is the rhythm that guides you.”</em> </b></p><p> </p><p>Constanze shifted her jaw from left to right. “Asgall mentioned incants. What exactly is the spell I need to know.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>“The incants are… also… part of the rhythm. It all comes from YOU, Constanze, the witch-smith enacting it.” </em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Constanze puffed up her right cheek and blew out a long-winded breath. “Wish I knew where to look.” The tune had been playing on and on throughout the conversation, ever since she began to write up her report on recent events, but while she wasn’t fearful of it anymore, she still failed to understand it. “I hear it. The rhythm. Don’t know how to follow it.” </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>“What does it sound like?”</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>“Like….” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Two three one two three three one two three two three one two three two three one two three three…. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Like music.” </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>“What kind of music?”</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Two three one two three three one two three two three one two three two three one two three three…. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“.... Like music.” The spirit dropped its head and shoulders into a slump. Constanze summoned up her signature stern stare as she crossed her arms. “Being honest. Don’t know how else to describe it. It’s just noise to a beat. Not tapping. Just… noise.” </p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“Alright then… what about all the times you built things before? Christofers’ memories are Our memories, and we know of the things you created. Animated clockwork, magicked toys, all sorts of little gadgets.” </em> </b> The Spirit peered over at Constanze’s bag of tools in the corner. <b> <em>“Why, We can sense some of them now even. Surely you must be a witch-smith already.” </em> </b></p><p> </p><p>Constanze held her chin quizzically, thinking back to all of those years of labor and engineering. Indeed, she’d made many magically powered things, but none of them operated on the same level or in the same way as the twin blades did, or say a cloak that turns one invisible; nothing that resembled a traditional enchantment. There was something more materialistically rooted in Constanze’s creations, something empirical, a blending of magic and science to create something wholly unique; something Croix pioneered and mastered, and something that Constanze had iterated on in her own way, on her own time, separate for most of her life from the school of magitronics. “It’s different.” </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>“How so?”</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>“It just <em> is </em>….” She hated such uneducated sounding answers. There had to be a reason for it; her brain didn’t operate on assumptions and uncritical thinking. She refused to accept that something just “was” for its own sake. “It’s all science. Math. Physics. Geometry. Chemistry.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>“And yet you can’t deny that it’s magic.” </em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t….” Constanze looked around her, taking in all of the olde aesthetics of the runic forge before she finally set her eyes, just as the spirit did, on her rucksack. She lingered on it, pondered on it, until the words suddenly clicked in her mind. “My magic is science.”</p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“Pardon?”</em> </b> The Spirit scratched its “head.”</p><p> </p><p>“Everyone feels magic differently, right?” The Spirit nodded, wondering where this was headed. “My friends, my sister, everyone, they feel it….” She bit her tongue in the search for the proper way she meant to convey her message. In the end, she resorted to her trusty pen and pad; it always helped her organize her thoughts. “I’m not special, but I don’t think the way most people do. Just different.” She showed The Spirit this premise before continuing to write away. “I remember when I was young. Mom took me to a doctor, a different kind of doctor. I was eight. Looked at my behavior over time, asked me a bunch of questions, put me through tests. It’s fuzzy to me now because it was so long ago, but I remember Mom was… sad afterward. Didn’t know why.” Again The Spirit was offered a look into what Constanze was writing, though she wasn’t finished. </p><p> </p><p>In the time between her writing up the next section, the voice of Christofer came through. <b> <em>“I actually remember that day pretty well….” </em> </b> He sounded rather uncomfortable, or perhaps uncertain. It was difficult to say. <b> <em>“She was worried that you might… not grow up like the other kids.”</em> </b></p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t.” Constanze’s reply didn’t interrupt her hyper focused writing. </p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“I know, I know, I’m just saying it was… something we as parents were worried about.” </em> </b> The simulacrum cleared its “throat,” realizing that its sentiment sounded worse than it wanted it to sound. <b> <em>“At first at least! Remember how we always said you were special?”</em> </b></p><p> </p><p>“Hated it.” The writing continued.</p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“Oh….” </em> </b> The Spirit was at a loss. <b> <em>“Why didn’t you say</em> </b> <b>—</b> <b> <em>” </em> </b> Constanze gave the spirit a long, tired look. <b> <em>“Right, right, you didn’t like to talk.”</em> </b></p><p> </p><p>“Still don’t sometimes.” It’s why Constanze was writing this, after all. “Mmm.” She held up the finished paragraph that she hoped would set things right. “I feel magic run right through me like everyone else, but I interpret it differently. When I said my magic is science, it’s because I feel like there are explicit rules. There needs to be structure. Guidelines. Possibilities and impossibilities. Things are neat. They make sense, and I know what does and doesn’t make sense. When I can’t determine that, my projects fail. My spells fizzle. It’s hard to focus when I can’t think of it like an equation, or a concise casual chain of events.” She circled this last section: “It’s why I never made any magical swords, enchanted trinkets, special wands, etc. That doesn’t make sense to me. Not in the way that most things do.” She underlined this point in particular: “So even though I hear the song, I feel like it doesn’t work. Not in this context.” </p><p> </p><p>The Spirit poured over every word carefully, rubbing its chin and humming. Once it had finished reading, it cocked its head. <b> <em>“So you’re saying you could hear the song before, and that it helped you?” </em> </b>Now it was speaking as the many voices rather than with Christofer’s. </p><p> </p><p>“Possibly.” Constanze shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. Maybe I did but I never noticed. I get focused. Lost. Lose track of times; sometimes hours go by and I don’t realize it.” Her eyes drifted to the mundane smithing hammer laid out on the anvil. “But I don’t remember hearing a tune like… this.” </p><p> </p><p>The Spirit pondered for a moment more more before clapping its hands together, singing its declaration: <b> <em>“Weeee know juuuuust what to doooo!” </em> </b> Constanze snapped to attention, lifting her head up and widening her eyes. <b> <em>“You shall learn through attempts! Through trial and error! Come! Bring Us the swords! We shall guide you through the process step by step until you’ve found that rhythm of yours!” </em> </b> Constanze clenched her fists and nodded determinedly. “Mhm!” With the spirit of the hammer at her side, she was certain that they’d make headway. She rushed over to the black box marked by the Y Draig Goch, opened the lid, and removed from it the fractured twin blades. She brought them over to the workbench along with her rucksack of tools. Once everything was assembled, she stood dutifully by, awaiting the first instruction. <b> <em>“Now! Fiiiirst and foremoooost! The blade was already enchanted before it fractured! We need only smelt it down and reuse the same materials!” </em> </b> Again, Constanze nodded energetically and prepared to set the smelter alight, but she was halted. <b> <em>“Ah-ah-ah! Not so fast!” </em> </b></p><p> </p><p>“Mmm?” She turned on her heel. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>“Every step, and We do mean EVERY step, must be conducted in line with the tune! The forge-song dictates ALL aspects of the process!” </em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>“How do you smelt something to a rhythm?” </p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“It’s not about the mechanical ‘how,’ but about the musical ‘why.’” </em> </b> That just made things more confusing, so The Spirit elaborated. <b> <em>“We want you to close your eyes, stand still, do whatever it is you’d do to calm down, and focus on the tune. You hear it now, yes?”</em> </b></p><p> </p><p>“Mmm….” It was still there, clear as day. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>“Then take a moment to block out everything else except the song.”</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>“Ok….” Constanze wasn’t exactly someone who could easily “meditate,”for she had a constantly active brain, but especially now given the direness of the situation, the lingering emotions from the heart to heart talk, and of course, the logical and illogical rage that simmered beneath her, all aimed at one man; one monster in human form. “I’ll try.” But she didn’t exactly trust herself to do well. </p><p> </p><p>The Spirit watched on patiently, yet expectantly, as Constanze closed her eyes, gripped her fists tight, and held her breath. <b> <em>“Loosen that jaw of yours, and release the tension in your shoulders!” </em> </b> She did as she was asked, but to what end, she wasn’t sure of. <b> <em>“And for Nine’s sake, breath! Just because you’re focusing doesn’t mean you can’t breath!” </em> </b>It chuckled at the absurdity of such a thought, before falling silent as Constanze entered an outwardly calm state. Inwardly however, she remained plagued, unable to find peace or harmony in the tune. It played over and over. Every note was distinct, even if she couldn’t ever hope to chart it on an actual sheet of music, but that was the problem; her thoughts were clouding the context, and they’d been doing so for Nine knew how long. As said, she couldn’t remember if she ever heard the tune before, but she was certain now at least that if she did, it wouldn’t have been clearly, for she used to be far worse off. Talking was a near impossibility, as was being in crowds, withstanding certain noises, being denied her outlet for extended periods, so on and so forth. All of those particularly immediate aspects of her psyche and being distracted her when they were out of synch, or otherwise agitated, and back then, she was just as traumatized about her early life as she was now. She may have finally put proper bandaging over the wound her father made, with the help of his imprint upon the hammer, but time, the true healer, still needed to take its course; time that Constanze didn’t have. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Come on….” </em> She thought to herself. <em> “I really need to focus right now, brain!” </em> As if saying that would get her brain to put a stop to the cacophony of discordant thoughts. The rage, the sorrow, the stress, the music, the—The rage. <em> The rage! “Croix!” </em> Constanze thought back to but a day ago, back when she was speaking to Amanda in the tree-house at Donar’s Oak. <em> “If I can channel my anger into the swords, maybe I can find the rhythm!” </em> Just as she realized this though, a problem presented itself: How would she channel her emotions into the smithing, which, by The Spirit’s own admission, is a process that requires adherence to the tune at <em> every </em> step, without also abiding by the tune in the imprinting of emotions onto the blades themselves! It was a paradox. She could not perform one task without doing the other, and to do the other, she must do the first. At least, it <em> seemed </em> like a paradox. Constanze thought in numbers, equations, symbols, science, but even numbers could be <em> irrational </em>. Her eyes shot open. </p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“Hmm? Have you found it!?” </em> </b>The Spirit seemed eager, sensing Constanze’s breakthrough. </p><p> </p><p>“No. But I think I know how to.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>“Come on then! Tell Us!” </em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Constanze hesitated. “It’s… a little complicated. Something I didn’t mention. Has to do with what happened.” She gestured upwards. </p><p> </p><p>The Spirit was puzzled at first, but soon caught on. She was pointing to Ludinghal, or rather, what remained of it. <b> <em>“Something internal then? Something that haunts you?” </em> </b></p><p> </p><p>“Mmm…. Anger.” Constanze didn’t want to remember back to the day when she heard the news. It felt like it was the lowest point in her life, and to retread it was to invite it to occur again, but she needed to endeavor nonetheless. “Vengeance. I wanted—I <em> want </em> vengeance.” The Spirit hummed grimly as Constanze went for her tools, finding an optimal outlet for her stimming so as to keep cool while she explained herself. “I know who did this: The one that killed mom, dad, Jo and Gertrand, everyone. His name is Nikolai. I’ve nearly died to him twice.” The Spirit’s eyes widened. </p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“We know of that name! Emanuel, he was caught in a pitched duel with the man during the first war against the Bathorys! It was only with Maebh’s aid that he was able to break away and hold Elizabeth at swordpoint with one of the very blades you seek to reforge!” </em> </b>Carnwennan was the blade which nearly ended Elizabeth’s reign in blood for good, but only with Dyrnwyn’s aid, wielded by Maebh, was the former able to find its mark. </p><p> </p><p>“And now <em> he </em> wants revenge.” Constanze solemnly remarked. “It’s why he came to Ludinghal. It’s why he hates us. Hates me…. Now it’s why I hate him.” </p><p> </p><p>The Spirit held its hands behind its back and began to circle Constanze slowly, parsing out what to say next. <b> <em>“Hate… is a powerful tool, young Constanze.”</em> </b></p><p> </p><p>“It feels wrong.”</p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“But it CAN be right.” </em> </b> The Spirit turned gesturing cautiously to the novice witch-smith. <b> <em>“It’s as dangerous as it is useful, but it shouldn’t be abandoned.” </em> </b> Constanze pursed her lips, looked off into the distance for a brief moment, and then returned her focus. She slowly nodded, a sign that she wanted to understand this nuance proposed by the spectre. <b> <em>“Justice is not without assumptions: Ideals, what is right and wrong, and why things are right and wrong.”</em> </b> This topic was a bit too serious to sing along to. <b> <em>“To try and divest justice, a thing which humans order themselves by, of the human elements: Emotion, passion, uniqueness in thought and perspective, is to apply… how might We phrase this in a way you understand….” </em> </b> The voice of Chirstofer nervously came through: <b> <em>“Like… trying to use… C++ in a Python based program.”</em> </b> He was semi-computer literate enough to know what those words meant. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze of course understood it perfectly. “It’s illogical. Contradictory. Never would work.”</p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“Exactly! Justice, like any concept anyone comes up with, cannot, and should not be taken out of its material context!” </em> </b>The Spirit, now speaking as many, proudly put its fists to its hips. It was actually quite satisfied with itself for how well it managed to explain that, even if its explanation sounded about as dry as sandpaper.</p><p> </p><p>“But how does that help me?” Armchair philosophy was wonderful and all, but it didn’t answer the initial problem. </p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“What We’re saying is that you should embrace your hate,” </em> </b> It wagged a stern finger in her face. <b> <em>“BUT! And this is a big one! Do not! Absolute DO NOT allow it to consume you! That is how you end up like the very man you seek to kill.” </em> </b></p><p> </p><p>“Why embrace it, but not fully?” </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>“Think back to the allegory, Constanze! You cannot divest hatred, anger, natural human emotions, from a human.... But you can temper them.” </em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Constanze inhaled sharply. <em> “Just like I promised Sucy…. Don’t let this change me.” </em> And exhaled calmly. <em> “But don’t make the same mistake Dad and Amanda did. Don’t deny it either.” </em>The method was there from the very beginning, present in those she loved. She needed only a little help to defog the haziness of the details. “Then that’s what I’ll do.”</p><p> </p><p>The Spirit ran through the memories of Emanuel, thinking back to that fateful week. <b> <em>“Emanuel bested Nikolai, and he never forgave it. After literal centuries, Nikolai’s hate must have festered to a point of obsession…. Honestly, We pity him.” </em> </b> As one might pity a rabid dog. <b> <em>“He must be stopped before he sheds any more blood: We knew him, and we could see just from one battle that his cruelty and devotion are without limits. With every failure, he only grows more depraved.” </em> </b> Finally, it turned to Constanze once more. <b> <em>“It was the anger Emanuel felt when fighting Nikolai, a man that had committed terrible atrocities against the people who served him faithfully, that allowed Emanuel to best him. He gave every ounce of his strength because he knew that failure meant that the monster he crossed blades with would get to kill again.”</em> </b></p><p> </p><p>Constanze’s brow knit tightly. “I’ll finish what Emanuel started. Need to use my anger, but… but not lose myself to it.” The problem yet remained; the paradox. “I want to imprint it on the blades. Another witch….” Constanze hesitated to call Croix a witch-smith, but maybe it was the case, and even Croix didn’t realize it. “Another witch showed me it was possible to imbue magical machines with emotion. Changes them. Enhances them. Influences them.”</p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“But to do that, you’d need to know how to follow the rhythm, yes?” </em> </b> Constanze slowly nodded. <b> <em>“But before you can follow it, you need to be able to hear it clearly…. And We bet that you wouldn’t have even brought up that anger issue of yours if it wasn’t distracting you.”</em> </b> The Spirit was dead on. Her deflating sigh said everything. <b> <em>“We understand…. Though we cannot help you any further.” </em> </b></p><p> </p><p>Constanze looked up, a pang of panic striking her chest. “Mmmm?” She grunted, as if to urgently ask: <em> “Why not?”  </em></p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“We cannot tell you exactly how to channel your emotions or how to find your rhythm. We can only offer suggestions.” </em> </b>Though The Spirit desperately wished it could aid Constanze more. Its denied desire was clear in its simple, frowning expression. </p><p> </p><p>With all other avenues blocked to her, Constanze was left with no choice. “Trial and error then.” If there was one thing she’d perfected, it was the one thing all good inventors and craftsmen knew: Learning a thousand ways to <em> fail </em>at making something. She went to the workbench, gathered up the individual pieces, and threw them into two separate casting pots. “Have to start somewhere.” The Spirit tensed as anticipation rose. It would watch quietly, offering little tidbits of advice, but otherwise letting Constanze find her own groove. Thus the forging began in earnest. </p><p> </p><p>The runic forge, marked by symbols of great and olde power, were brought to life piece by piece. For every rune spoken, more of it became active. <em> “Sōwilō.” </em>First came the left most port of the three pronged forge; fuel storage. The half-oval shaped hatch glowed brightly blue with the shape of the rune: A wide, sideways M beside a tilted Z. Constanze swung it wide with a motion of her hand and examined the innards. She found it woefully empty, and lung-crushingly dusty. After a brief coughing fit, she found her way over to a pile of barrels tucked away in the opposite corner of the room. She dragged one over, popped the lid, and found it to be filled with Evercoals, a rare variety of coal that is so densely packed with carbon that it’s actually more massive than its size would let on. Just one chunk of Evercoal would be enough to see Constanze smithing through the night, so she picked out one of the smallest ones, and with the aid of The Spirit, heaved the fist sized thing as if it were a boulder until they could let it “safely” fall into the port. The Spirit offered its flaming body as a way to ignite it; the forge was lit. </p><p> </p><p>Next came the smelting bay. <em> “Ūruz.” </em> A top-pointing acute angle, or a right facing right triangle without a bottom line flared on the front of the smelting hatch. It sat a bit higher off of the ground compared to the fuel port, sat in the center of the three-pronged forge, and looked more like the kind of door one would see in a morgue, and it even opened up to reveal a flatbed bench that could be wheeled in and out, but it’s purpose was unmistakable if one was to look inside. At the center of the inner chamber, where the raw materials would be placed, three blazing red gemstones, lit ablaze by the Evercoal fires from below, emitted powerful beams down into a central point. The laser, concentrated with intense heat, would melt down the materials fed into the hatch so long as it was given enough time, and carefully tended to, such that the beam could course along the whole portion of every chunk and piece. Constanze, having only broken sword pieces on hand for materials, put both of her buckets on the stretcher before wheeling it shut so that Dyrnwyn’s bucket, the closest one, was the first to be cooked. Luckily, the buckets were marked by more traditional Lunar Runes, compared to the Proto-Germanic runes which lit up the forge itself; these Lunar Runes provided an uncanny resistance to heat, ensuring the buckets wouldn’t melt along with their contest. </p><p> </p><p>Meanwhile, Constanze awakened the third and final part of the forge: The casting station. <em> “Perþō.” </em>Unlike the other two, no hatch barred access to the station itself, but instead, a high up hatch acted as the barrier between the melting chamber and a sloped pipe that would carry the slag down into the truly magical part of the casting station. This third and final part of the forge was long, mostly made of stone, and about waist high, with a large blue and pink crystal slab taking up all of the surface. The bespoke rune took shape both on the stone edifice and in the crystal, appearing as a basket with jagged, outwardly bent edges at the top and bottom. The runic shape in the crystal slab was quite different though, for it was a glowing, bright red imprint in the blue and pink crystal. A wave of the hand just mere inches above the surface saw it change though: The crystal became fluid, bubbling and boiling until, suddenly, it froze up, now showing a mold for a sword; an exact replica of the blade Dyrnwyn used. The forge itself bent to the will of the smith who commanded it, knowing implicitly the shape they desired to create just by the force of their presence over it; a symbiotic connection between tool, and craftsman. </p><p> </p><p>Now, admittedly, Constanze had prepared all of this without abiding by the tune. It was <em> there </em> , but it did not inform her steps, nor did it sway her hips, make her dance, sing, hum, sway, swagger, waltz or stoll in any way that her ancestors may have while following their own personal beats and tunes. <em> “It’s a start.” </em> She never expected to get it right the first time after all. <em> “But what now.” </em> Obviously, she knew what came next; patience, waiting. Magicked metal didn’t melt in an instance, even when put under a magical beam, but surely, she supposed, there was something she should be doing in the meantime as a part of this “ritual,” if it could even be called that. She thought and thought and thought, thinking up every esoteric reference and practice Sucy ever mentioned, all of the fundamental go-to’s that Diana often remarked on when reminding Akko on how to <em> not </em> blow herself up, and even considered Jasminka’s little cooking rituals as a source of inspiration. Alas, nothing stuck, and so Constanze paced back and forth, stimming with her adjustable wrench, clicking one way, then clicking the other:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Click click, click click click, click, click click, click click click…. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Minutes passed; The Spirit and Constanze both grew excited. A last check up on the bucket that once held Dyrnwyn revealed it to be full of slag. Now came the pouring. Constanze flicked her wand out from her belt, raised up both of her hands, and saw the scorching hot pot float into the air. Carefully, she tilted it to the right, allowing the bright goop to drip out down the chute and into the crystalline mold. Once emptied, Constanze would normally have waited for it to try, but they didn’t have hours to spend, and witches had other ways of solving this problem: Constanze raised her wand to her lips, pressing the tip flatly against them, and whispered: <em> “Hoarroria.” </em>As the words took to the air, her wand glowed with the white of winter. She took a deep breath, puffing up her cheeks, and walked over to the liquid hot mold. A controlled blow of winter frost solidified the mold just enough to be ready for fine tuning. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze strapped her wrench onto her belt, took up her tongs, and gingerly lifted up the brightly orange sword-piece. She brought it over to the anvil and laid it out evenly along its length before setting the tongs aside and reaching for a hammer. While the crystal mold may have allowed the slag to take the shape of whatever the smith desired, the piece still needed to be hammered, not for purposes of changing shape, but so as to infuse it with the very magicks that made it different from any other sword. In this case, since the magicks were already present in the alloys, Constanze was instead reviving those same, latent powers, and injecting her own into them as a way of breathing new life into an otherwise olde weapon. Just as she would hammer magick into it though, so too would she inject her anger, just as The Spirit advised and warned. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze examined the hammer; it was mundane, just like any other, but just as capable of channeling energies through. As her eyes wandered over the tool, her mind wandered as well. <em> “Wish Croix taught me how to properly transfer emotions.” </em> All they’d covered was theory, speculation, results from Croixs’ own experiments. <em> “Maybe there isn’t a right way.” </em> She hoped that was the case, or else this endeavor may have been moot from the start. She took another deep breath, this time exhaling out all of the excess cold air, leaving a trail of fog about her. In the swirling white wisps of frosty air, Constanze gripped the hammer tight, raised it high, and gave it one last active thought before allowing her emotions to run through her veins like blood aflame. <em> “Mark my words Nikolai: This is going to be the sword that kills you.” </em>And so the hammer fell as Constanze grit her teeth.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Sparks! Bright, multicolored, and arcane, spiraled, spewed, and bounced about the room as they ricocheted off of the incomplete blade of Dyrnwyn! The sword itself, still glowing with heat, began to shine unnaturally; those sparks weren’t just coming from the repeated, furious hammer blows, but from the sword itself. It was like a battery or a car engine, faulty and broken, desperately trying to start; failed ignition over and over again, like a wet match. Still, Constanze refused to yield, even as her cheek stung with the acute pain of cinders, and her hands ached weary as the minutes of unceasing labor went on. Those physical ailments were nothing in compared to the mental anguish she invited unto herself. If anything, the slight burns, the tight joint pains, the soreness of her knuckles, all of those were welcome in comparison to the nightmarish visions she allowed to run throughout her body. Already she was regretting this on some basic instinct, a fight or flight level response acted up inside her. The dreams, the nightmares, the withheld, unspoken desires of the mind were now at the forefront, and they had only ever taken a back seat, even when plaguing her at their worst. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze saw flashes of red, yellow, pink, black, as if she were having a seizure, and in between those flashes, the violence was carried out in gruesome detail. Cutting, tearing, ripping, punching, stabbing, slicing! Brutalizations beyond compare, all done unto the strawman imagination of the monstrous Nikolai. She was entranced by it, yet terrified of it, for in the visions, sometimes she saw through her own eyes, and caught sight of her hands; they’d been malformed into wretched, disfigured, alien claws, scaled, hairy, wrongly digited. And other times they were her own, plain, but soaked in blood. Her eyes clamped shut, mirroring the tightness with which she wielded her hammer.</p><p> </p><p>Meanwhile, as the sword began to vibrate and warp with power, The Spirit leaned in from afar, tensing with anticipation. It held its breath, so to speak, only for a sudden, yet mercifully small blast of arcane power, one that flared a deep crimson red, obscured its vision. The blast originated from the sword itself and left behind a thick cloud that smelt of blood and war. <b> <em>“C-Constanze!” </em> </b> The Spirit waved its elusively ephemeral arms about, blowing away to smoke to reveal that Constanze had fallen onto her back. She was writhing on the ground, holding her head as though she struck it against the hard stone floor. The Spirit rushed over in a panic. <b> <em>“Are you ok!?” </em> </b> It slipped into Christofer’s voice; the deep concern of her father was enough to give it unwitting presiance over the other voices. Constanze groaned and hissed loudly. Her hands were clamped down hard against her temples, and her face was flush red with intensity. <b> <em>“Tell me where it hurts!” </em> </b> No response was afforded to The Spirit, so it turned its head to the dank stairway upward and out of the forge. <b> <em>“I’ll go get help!”</em> </b></p><p> </p><p>“Mm-mm! Mm-mm!” Constanze’s frantic grunting stopped The Spirit in its tracks, prompting it to suddenly spin about in the air. Constanze remained on the ground, but she managed to open her eyes now at least; the voice of The Spirit, the shard of her father, was enough to awaken her from the nightmare. Still, her head hurt like hell. “I’m… ok! I’m ok!” </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>“Are you… sure?” </em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>“No.” Constanze couldn’t lie that much. “Can’t… give up though.” The nightmares hurt to endure, but there were lives at stake; this was a necessary pain, just as the pain of realization and regret was necessary earlier this same evening. The Spirit reached out to offer aid, but Constanze was stubborn, and so she rose to her feet on her own, wobbling and stumbling all the while. She swiped her left hand thrice at the air until the smoke was fully cleared, revealing the fruits of her labor: The shining blade of Dyrnwyn lay before her, complete, and perfect, or so it seemed. The smith and spirit both leaned over the anvil from opposite sides. They beheld the blade with awe, wonder, but anxiety, most of which was shouldered by Constanze. The two gave each other a passing look before Constanze gingerly lifted the blade up into her hands. The weight felt fine, the structure was sound, and it certainly <em> felt </em> magical; but it also <em> felt different </em> compared to before. </p><p> </p><p><em> “It feels…. Wrong.” </em> Pain was soon replaced by growing fear; a cannonball weight in her gut. She felt as though the blade was going to leap up and lob her head off. Then it began to vibrate. That was when she realized that her fear wasn’t irrational, her instincts were trying to warn her! She was too late to react! The blade animated itself, possessed by malice, fury, and darted around the room in a maddened frenzy. “DUCK!” Both her and The Spirit went to ground, not that The Spirit was fearful of being killed, but old human habits of self preservation died hard. Constanze would die <em> much harder </em> though if they didn’t get this sword under control! It bounced around from wall to wall, clinking and clanking, skewering and scratching, in search of an invisible enemy while blind by its own rage. There was no sense to its violence, only violence for its own sake. Something had to be done before the entire room was turned into a cutting board!</p><p> </p><p>Constanze tried to follow its movements to little avail, so she reached for her wand and did her best to predict it’s next path of destruction. She grunted out a freezing spell, firing once twice, but only hitting the third time as the sword ricocheted off of one of the room’s corners. It was frozen in air and clattered to the ground, encased in ice, while two sections of the room were now coated in quickly evaporating frost. Constanze and The Spirit both sighed with great relief. </p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“Phew! You certainly enchanted it alright!” </em> </b> The Spirit slowly began to chuckle in the way one does when they just made it out of a terribly dangerous situation. It stopped once it realized Constanze wasn’t laughing. <b> <em>“We apologize…. But cheer up! It’s your first attempt! We never expected you to do it right the first time.” </em> </b> The Spirit tapped at its chin. <b> <em>“You got close! We think you got close at least. The fact that it was magicked at all is proof enough of that!” </em> </b></p><p> </p><p>Constanze rose to her feet, hissing in minor pain as she did so, and dusted herself off. “Horrifying….”</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>“We beg your pardon?”</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>“It was horrifying….” Constanze slowly shuffled over to the block of ice that held the mad blade. “I tried… putting my emotions…. It hurt…. It hurt a lot.” The anguish writ upon her face was palpable. <em> “Is that what I’d become?” </em> The shuddered; the blade within yet sought carnage. <em> “If I gave in…?” </em>She was ashamed of herself for even being capable of such thoughts that could turn something so violent. A shiver ran up her spine, and not just because she touched the cold ice of the frozen sword. She was afraid of yourself; what she could create. </p><p> </p><p>The Spirit, doing its best to stay positive and productive, shifted the subject. <b> <em>“What about the song? Did you hear it?” </em> </b> Constanze hesitated, but nodded slowly. <b> <em>“And you followed it, right?”</em> </b></p><p> </p><p>“I…. I couldn’t find it.” Constanze shook her head as she knelt before the frozen block, lost and uncertain. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>“But you heard it…. Do you know how it’s supposed to sound?” </em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Constanze blinked, listening to the now ever-present yet faint song that accompanied every moment of her waking life. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Two three one two three three one two three two three one two three two three one two three three…. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm…. Mm…. Know the rhythm. Not the…. Sounds.” </p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“Hrmmm.” </em> </b> The Spirit floated up behind Constanze and comforted her with its warmth. <b> <em>“Then what do you think went wrong?”</em> </b></p><p> </p><p>“Everything.”</p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“Come now, Constanze! You can be more specific than that!” </em> </b>The Spirit did it’s best to sound positive and encouraging. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze sighed. “Distracted…. I was… distracted.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>“By what, exactly?”</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>“Everything.” She paused, knowing The Spirit would ask for more. “A lot on my mind. Stressed.” Her hands instinctively drifted to her belt; her wrench specifically. She began to stimulate her senses with its clicking noises and distinct texture.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Click click, click click click, click, click click, click click click, click click click, click…. </em>
</p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“We understand….” </em> </b> Sympathy was the best it could offer outside of pithy advice. <b> <em>“You need to clear your head if you ever want to be one with the music of the forge.” </em> </b></p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm mm mm.” Easier said than done. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>“We, know, we know, but let’s not despair. We’ve got all night if we need it.” </em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Constanze bit the inside of her cheek. Again, now was not the time to get lost in trying to explain Speartip’s presence. That said, the unwitting reminder offered by The Spirit gave Constanze enough energy to pick herself and the blade up. “How do I start over.” Without getting skewered, that is. </p><p> </p><p>The Spirit smiled slightly and rose with her. <b> <em>“I’ll hold it down while you get yourself a chisel.” </em> </b> Constanze grunted in agreement and found herself the necessary tool scattered on the ground; there was quite the mess to clean up now. Meanwhile, The Spirit did as it promised: It reached down and melted the ice, evaporated the water, and grabbed the sword with its own hands, having to fight to keep it steady as it jerked every which way like a cat which so desperately wanted to be put down. <b> <em> “OK! Now! I’m going to try and—! AGH!” </em> </b> The sword nearly swiped at Constanze, causing her to jump back, but The Spirit managed to get it under control. <b> <em>“Get your hammer!” </em> </b> Constanze pulled the hammer up into her right hand with a spell and readied herself. Once the sword was thrown to the ground, The Spirit beckoned her forward with a gesture of its flame-shaped head. <b> <em>“Ok! Now come over here, and strike it! Strike it and repeat after me: </em> </b> <b> <em>Þurisaz</em> </b> <b> <em>!” </em> </b></p><p> </p><p>Constanze took a sharp inhale, ducked down close to the sword, and steadied her chisel and aim. <em> “ </em> <em> Þurisaz </em> <em> !” </em> A singular strike coincided with the word, shattering the sword back into its three original pieces. Its activity ceased, its magic faded into internertness; they were safe again. Again, both of them sighed. Constanze looked to the broken pieces and slowly gathered them up. She listened intently to the tune of her forge song as she did so, but felt nothing change. <em> “Just how am I supposed to figure this out?” </em> It was an inscrutable subject to her, leaving her with but one option: Try and try again until something <em> clicked </em>. </p><p> </p><p>Before she started throwing darts at the wall hoping for a bullseye though, she’d make two guiding goals: <em> “Step one: Resolve the anger.” </em> If she couldn’t do that, then she may not even survive the battle let alone forge the sword. <em> “Step two…. Figure out what the hell this song is supposed to be.” </em>They were simple, self evident goals, but with structure came sense, and with sense came results; it was how Constanze operated. With those in place, it was time to get to work.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> About fifty minutes later…. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Attempt after attempt, trial after trial, error after error. Constanze had lost count of how many times she iterated on the same damnable process. She’d tried what she thought to be everything! She tried chanting certain incants, drumming her wand to the beat to the tune, trying and failing to come up with lyrics to a song, hammering in unison with the tune; none of it worked! And those were merely examples of the times where she didn’t merely simmer and boil in her own rage.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze paced back and forth, after having just failed for the umpteenth time in a row. Her face was marked by little blisters, dirtied from the smoke, and wrought with frustration. Her hands remained busy throughout.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Click click, click click click, click, click click, click click click! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She couldn’t even think of putting down one of her tools, for she felt her stimming was one of the few things that kept her grounded in this insane moment. She’d ended up scattering about half of them all over the floor as she switched between the textures and noises they made over the course of the last hour, having lost all patience to be “clean” or “tidy” in any sense of the words. </p><p> </p><p>The Spirit, for all its heart, had become crestfallen. It laid itself face down on the workbench, not having given up, but also being unable to watch any further. It was not shame that averted its gaze, or pity, but genuine sympathy for Constanze’s plight of the self. She was righteously mad, but she was haunted by the spectre of Nikolai, and while she was a skilled smith, and clearly capable of enchantment, she simply couldn’t find and stick to the tune of her song. It was at a complete loss of what to say or do, so for the sake of not angering Constanze, it resigned itself to waiting. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Something has to give.” </em> Constanze thought ruefully as she unwittingly kicked another tool across the floor. She was unconsciously glad to be wearing such sturdy boots, otherwise that would have hurt <em> a lot </em> . <em> “Ugh! Just! Just give me something to work with! Anything!” </em>The song had evaded her, and so too did tranquility.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Click click, click click click, click, click click, click click click! Click click click! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She thought she heard it a few times, but at this point, she was wondering if she was starting to lose her mind down here. Not literally, thankfully, but repeating the same thing multiple times and getting mixed results every time was a truly maddening experience for someone like Constanze. <em> “There has to be a method! I don’t care how artsy this is meant to be! Even artists have methods!” </em>Amidst her fitful pacings in between attempts, Constanze threw down her wrench and levitated a pair of pliers into her hand. She began to squeeze them obsessively; sporadically.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Clack clack! Clack clack clack! Clack! Clack clack! Clack clack clack! Clack clack clack! </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> “And these fucking nightmares!” </em> They almost didn’t scare her anymore so much as they did make her angerier; <em> almost </em> . <em> “What do I need to do to make them stop!?” </em> Consciously, she rejected them in every way. She knew now that while her vengeance was right to be reaped, to allow it to encapsulate her being would not only betray her promise to Sucy, but would leave her as less of a woman than she was now, and more of a husk. She tried deep breathing, stimming, of course, and other various mental redirecting strategies that did nothing to make the visions go away. <em> “What! Do! I! Need! To! Do!” </em>Constanze “gently” hit the side of her head in tempo with the words using her free fist. On and on she went, stimming all the while.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Clack clack! Clack clack clack! Clack! Clack clack! Clack clack clack! Clack clack clack! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>At some point, she gave up on trying to make sense of things. <em> “FINE!” </em> She thought to herself loudly. <em> “If this isn’t going to make sense, then I’M not going to act like it’s supposed to!” </em></p><p> </p><p>Constanze threw down the pliers, huffed loudly, and stomped over to the buckets of broken sword pieces. She looked down into them with a scalding glare. <em> “Listen here you two,” </em> First came anger, since denial wasn’t really an option. <em> “If you stupid pieces of scrap don’t get your shit together and start working, I’m going to bury you both in a ditch and make a better vampire killing tool!” </em> Of course, she didn’t get a response, and not just because she didn’t say any of this out loud. She stared at it for a minute more before resting her forehead on the edge. <em> “PLEASE!” </em> Now came bargaining. <em> “I just need you to be what you used to for FIVE minutes! At least then I can figure out where and when I went wrong!” </em> Again, nothing. Constanze didn’t even bother entering depression, she had enough to be sad about, so she moved onto acceptance, though it was hardly a resolution. <em> “Gott, it really is all because I can’t fucking think straight, isn’t it?” </em>  The Spirit’s warning was ringing true: Anger was a powerful tool. It was able to animate the blades, make them sharper, deadlier, but it also drove them mad, made them spark with electricity at any who touched it, and left some so broken in an emotional sense that they became dull, and useless. But how did she escape that trap? Where did the supposed sweet spot lie?</p><p> </p><p>Constanze considered asking The Spirit, but at this point, she felt she had exhausted its immediately useful reservoir of information. Her own words came back to haunt her in a way she didn’t expect: <em> “This is my fight. I need to finish it.” </em> Now, it was as such not because she chose so, but because there was no other option; oh how that distinction infuriated her. <em> “After years of learning to open up and actually talk about my problems…. After two weeks of bullschit inside and out, working with Amanda all the way through it…. And I still can’t do this!” </em>Constanze lifted her head up, throwing it back, and looked to the ceiling as her thoughts raced on. She considered every event twice over, every blight, every problem, conquered or otherwise, and every person she’d spoken with. Her mind was awash in nonsensical spiralling until she eventually felt the eerie quietness of reality close in on her. </p><p> </p><p>Finally, she could speak productively with herself: <em> “I can’t ignore the anger, I know that…. But not ignoring it has always left me swimming in it. So what purpose does it serve me? It has to be there for a reason.” </em> Obviously, she knew she was mad, and why she was mad, but she meant “reason” in a more logistical sense. <em> “Otherwise I would have burnt through it by now. Useless. Stupid. Things that don’t matter don’t stick to me like this. So what is it?” </em> Now she was tackling the so-called heart of the problem: What did she <em> really </em> hate about Nikolai? <em> “He’s a creep.” </em> That was the most obvious aspect of him, one that Amanda brought up countless times. <em> “Sadistic…. Cruel…. Obsessed…. Prideful….” </em>All of these aspects of his being were bad, reprehensible even, but they weren’t things Constanze hated, or felt deserved hatred innately. Diana was prideful, but she was not deserving of hate. Sucy was obsessed with mushrooms and esoteric things, and Jasminka with food, so that was off the table. Sadistic and cruel though? Well, perhaps Sucy might fall a smidge into the sadistic category, but almost entirely in jest; cruelty was not something Constanze, nor any of the New Nine knew her for, and no one else came close. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze sighed. She began to calm, though her inner dialogue was not yet done: <em> “I’ve known cruel people besides him. Not as cruel…. Not as sadistic…. Nowhere even near it.” </em> But it didn’t feel like a matter of “thresholds,” as if hatred demanded a specific amount of reprehensibility out of the target. <em> “So what then?” </em> Was it purely revenge? Maybe if the loss had happened now, after she had made amends with her father, but it didn’t, and back before she was certain she had any love for her parents, she was still just as mad, if not more so. It left her with but one route to take: She would pontificate on what Nikolai <em> meant </em> to Constanze, rather than just on what he <em> was </em> . <em> “Death. He’s my killer.” </em> It was the most blatant thing that popped into her mind. <em> “He’s my denier….” </em> Constanze had an opportunity to make amends with her blood family, the <em> real </em> blood family, not a spirit or shard, but that opportunity was stolen. Things started to make a little more sense, but this was still all surface level stuff. She felt she needed to go deeper. </p><p> </p><p><em> “He’s…. Gott, what does he even fight for? What does he stand for?” </em> All Nikolai had gone on to do was taunt her and toy with her. Was it his apparent lack of ideology that angered her, or the insinuation that his ideology may be as twisted and inhumane as he? <em> “He’s a noble. A vampire. Stealing witches for… some reason.” </em> She presumed it was to feed on them, but this seemed like a bit much for food, and then, why <em> witches </em> specifically? Why the wyrd witches who were aiding them? Why the enslaved Fae and monsters? <em> “More to it…. Always more to it.” </em> Constanze wiped her brow clean of sweat. It was starting to feel hot in here after all of the work she’d been doing. <em> “And he has to believe in it. There has to be a reason behind his actions. Has to be.” </em> Perhaps he was a tyrant, not just in action, but in belief. <em> “His family were overthrown by a peasant revolt…. Would’ve been a slaughter if my ancestor and his friend didn’t get involved. They had to be terrible to be so hated.” </em>And she never knew monarchs to be “kind” from her understanding of history. </p><p> </p><p><em> “He’ll try and reclaim that power.” </em> Constanze surmised. <em> “I’d hate if he did… but that doesn’t make me hate him.” </em> She looked down at her own blistering hands and squeezed her fists tight. She felt she was getting closer. She thought of the words he said to her; the remarks on her father’s weakness, her own weakness. <em> “Domination…. That’s all victory is to him.” </em> Her knuckles slowly whitened. <em> “Thinks he’s superior…. Thinks he’s the fucking </em> <em> Übermensch.” </em> Now her blood was pumping. <em> “Denies me from my family…. Denies us all from our power, our humanity….” </em> Her clouded thoughts became sharper, clearer. <em> “Removes all of the choices we had. Would have us be his slaves. Die for his amusement. His benefit.Their amusement….  Their benefit…. All of those vampire bastards….” </em> That sharpness became deadly. Her gaze became more intense than ever before. Then things took a surprising shift in subject matter: <em> “Just like those fucking companies.” </em> But not a shift that didn’t have it’s place…. <em> “Go work for these idiots. Those hacks. These frauds.” </em> Constanze spun about and started pacing again, this time, to a beat she knew, yet didn’t recognize in the moment. <em> “Do it all for the money. Be useful. Give up your dreams. Let them take the credit.” </em> The tools around where she stepped began to vibrate and shudder. <em> “Get a normal job. Don’t go to witch school. Don’t do what you love. What you love is dangerous. So dangerous we hid it from you for your entire life!” </em> She may have made amends, but, as she said, forgiveness wasn’t exactly something she was keen on, and, mercifully, this was all in her head, so The Spirit was spared an unnecessary scolding, for that wasn’t the point of this inner tirade. <em> “At least my parents thought they were doing the right thing! At least they cared about something besides themselves!” </em></p><p> </p><p>That said, The Spirit did take notice. Slowly, it lifted its head up and looked back through its own translucent head until the two orbs basically swapped places to be on the back of its head. It didn’t quite know what to make of the rhythmic stomping, but it could physically see the magic radiating off of Constanze. It was a swell of bright teal and blue light, swirling in a blizzard wherever she went. Of course, in reality, that blizzard was invisible to all but things such as The Spirit, whose very existence granted it an uncanny sense of magical flow.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze didn’t even notice she was being watched: <em> “Nikolai though? He’s no different than those creeps with Speartip. No different than the other thousand companies out there trying to hoard wealth. No different than any dictator! You’re either a tool for him, or you’re expendable!” </em> Speaking of tools, the ones on the floor began to rise from the floor, levitate off of the walls, and drift aimlessly, as if in zero gravity. <em> “He thinks he can decide who’s human. Who gets to live, and how well they get to live. Who gets to die, and how slowly it all happens. Who works what and why? All for his fucking benefit of course!” </em>The tools began to sputter, clack, whir, click, flick, stutter and stir! A veritable factory had come online all around her, just by how it sounded, and yet she didn’t notice. She was too busy being angry in the most quintessential way: So angry that she couldn’t help but focus.</p><p> </p><p><em> “And what the fuck will he do with that benefit? He dominates us more! Him and everyone and everything like him! More money! Money control! More and more and more and </em> — <em> UGH!” </em>Constanze threw her hands down at her side, unwittingly ordering all of the tools to arrange themselves as though they were a grand orchestra, lining several rows behind and around her, categorized by make, all creating unique, yet harmonic sounds, all guided by the tune of Constanze’s heart and soul. </p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“C-Constanze…?”</em> </b> The Spirit’s whisper went unheard. It would have had to shout to be heard. It stared at her, mouth agape in pure astonishment and awe.</p><p> </p><p><em>  “That’s it! That’s why I hate that… that…. THAT LEECH!” </em> Constanze stomped once, coinciding with a unified “clap” from all of the tools in her orchestra. <em> “He takes and he takes! He never gives anything but pain! He only dominates! He misuses, and he abuses, and… and….” </em> Eventually the words came to her in a mental shout, one that ushered in a breakdown racket from the orchestra: <em> “AND HE RUINS ALL OF THE THINGS YOU WORKED HARD FOR JUST SO HE CAN GET OFF ON HIS STUPID POWER TRIP!” </em> In her fury, blind, but focused, she snatched her hammer out of the air, not even paying mind to the fact that it was floating. <em> “I’m making these damn blades! They’re going to be finished, and they’re going to KILL that son of a bitch! Or my name isn’t Constanze Amalie Von Braunschbank-Albrechtsberger!” </em>Constanze went to work as a woman possessed.</p><p> </p><p>First, she stomped over to the fuel port, fuming with rage. <em> “Just one!? Just one fucking Evercoal!?That isn’t good enough!” </em>By way of sheer anger alone, she pushed her body to its limits to toss in not one, but two more chunks of the exceptionally heavy Evercoals. Immediately, the furnace roared to life, mirroring the fury of the smith who commanded it. </p><p> </p><p><b><em>“Don’t strain yourself, Constanze!”</em></b> All but the music, and her own thoughts were white noise to Constanze.</p><p> </p><p>Second, she whipped out her wand and silently cast a levitation spell. The buckets full of the blade pieces practically shot across the room so fast it could have killed her, but they stopped on a dime just inches from her face. She wielded her wand like a robotic conductor! With precise motions of her hands, the buckets were set inside the smelter. First up was Carnwennan. The intense laser was set upon the broken dagger, slagging it in mere moments due to the increased power from the extra Evercoals, Moments later, Constanze had the bucket pour itself out in three individual motions, one for each singular beat of the song which she had yet to even acknowledge in any conscious sort of way. </p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“Is … is she doing it?” </em> </b> The Spirit, realizing the trance-like state that Constanze was in, began to speak to itself. <b> <em>“Is this really it? Is this… her forge song?”</em> </b> It was like any other The Spirit’s collective consciousness had ever known. The rhythm was similar, admittedly, but this was the sound of a legion of factories, computers, and smithies at work; cranking, grinding, screwing, hammering, computing! Loud as it was, the sound only ever seemed to truly come into effect when one stood among the tools; within the eye of the would-be storm. </p><p> </p><p>Dyrnwyn was poured next. Both swords, slagged down, encased in side by side molds, were regarded with an unblinking, hyper-critical gaze. Constanze flicked her wand at each bubbling mold, correcting mistakes that even the living crystal had made, as if the truth of Constanze’s desire, and the shape of the blades, were obscured even to the forge itself, and could only be illuminated by the clarity provided the witch-smith’s forge song. Once the hair-pin adjustments were made, Constanze took a deep breath: <em> “Hoarroria!” </em>It was the first word she’d spoken in nearly half an hour, and her tone was as bitterly cold as was the aid that now cooled the bubbling molds. In an instant, the blades were hardened, and ready for refinement. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze brought over each blade with her tongs, laying them upon the anvil one by one. She’d refine Dyrnwyn first. Her hammer flew over to her the moment she held her hand out to receive it, not even paying it mind with a look, for her eyes were fixated on the sword. She raised it high, her face fraught with rancor, only for her to feel a sudden warmth halt her strike at the wrist. The Spirit was floating in front and above her, looking down with swelling pride, astonishment, and a tint of tearing in its spectral eyes. <b> <em>“Wait! Wait!” </em> </b> Constanze shot The Spirit a glance as the orchestra came to a screeching halt, yet the tools remained in the air. <b> <em>“Use Us!” </em> </b> Constanze cocked her head and opened her mouth to chide The Spirit, only for her to blink a few times and freeze up. Her expression and focus faltered, becoming one of surprise and confusion. <b> <em>“No, no, no, no no! Don’t think too much! Don’t lose your flow! Just keep going! But use US!” </em> </b> The Spirit desperately pointed and jabbed in the mithril hammer’s general direction. <b> <em>“Use the hammer! OUR hammer!” </em> </b></p><p> </p><p>Constanze’s eyes were drawn to the shining tool. The song, while halted in the forge itself, persisted on in the hammer. She regarded the mundane implement she’d been using this whole time, and then looked to The Spirit. Her focus quickly returned, as did her scowl. “Mmm!” She cast away the hammer, assigning it to join the chorus of other hammers that floated about the room, and went to the ritual circles that Lotte had set up earlier. She tapped her foot to the beat more consciously as she looked between the hammer, Malitrix, and The Spirit itself. She gave it a nod. </p><p> </p><p>The Spirit smiled as wide as it could. <b> <em>“Just as the fiiiiire is yourrrrrs! Sooooo is our hammerrrrr!” </em> </b>With its triumphant singing came a spectral chain, one wreathed in blue flames. It formed around the hilt of the hammer, wrapping it up tight. The Spirit gestured for her to take it, and so she did. Once her hand touched the chains, they snaked around her arm before shooting out toward her heart, meeting a spectral chain from Constanze’s own body. The two became connected, forming an unbreakable bond. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze followed the chain from her chest to the hammer. She tightened her grip around it and took a deep breath. Her eyes began to close as she prepared to lift it up and start the song anew, with the final, most important piece of the factorial chorus added to the ranks. She had only one thing left to say, yet only thought it: <em> “Thank you.” </em> </p><p> </p><p>Nevertheless, the thanks were received, but not just by The Spirit, but by the shard of her father. He gave his final goodbye as a tear of plasma struck the floor: <b> <em>“You’re welcome, Amalie…. I love you.”</em> </b></p><p> </p><p>Constanze softly smiled and exhaled calmly. <em>“You too, dad…. Now come on,”</em> The mithril hammer, in all its glory, was brought high and away from the ritual circle. The Spirit’s semi-physical manifestation receded, slinking back through Malitrix and into the hammer from which it came. “We’ve got work to do.” The words escaped her as she set her eyes on the glowing tool. Already, she could begin to see her name become inscribed into the wood. That made her smile even wider. Finally, after decades of secrecy, The Order of The Balefire would have its first true witch-smith to carry on the legacy of Vaal, and her father, or at least, the shard of him, could rest easy, knowing his daughter would live as she always wanted to: As the master of her own destiny, as a laborer in complete control of her work, from the means of her production, to the meaning her production held. Now she could keep to that promise she made to Vaal: She would see the order halls rebuilt that she, and others like her, might work toward a brighter, more righteous tomorrow. That fight, that struggle, it all began with the smithing of blades, the means by which the first of many great oppressors would be cowed. This was why she joined the order, this was why she fought, and this was why she would never tolerate manipulation and abuse of any kind ever again!</p><p> </p><p>As Constanze stepped to the anvil, her forge song, the ensemble floating, animated tools, clanged back to life. She stood before the unenchanted blades, fierce, defiant, proud, and resolute. She couldn’t be happier nor angrier in this moment, but the anger was welcome now. It was anger that gave her focus, that gave her <em> purpose </em> . She raised the hammer, her family’s hammer, <em> her hammer </em>, up into the air, and began to hum along to the tune: “Hmhm hmhmhmmmm, hm hmhmm hmmhmhmm hmhmhmm hm hmhmmmm….”</p><p> </p><p>Nikolai’s days were numbered. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Clang...! Clang…! Clang...! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Constanze’s distant, muffled hammering served as the audible backdrop to Lotte and Amanda’s otherwise quiet time spent in the open-aired forge. They were keeping diligent watch on the town, making sure that none of the soldiers got too close to hear Constanze’s labor. While they were quiet themselves, they hadn’t been unproductive in their own ways. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda and Lotte both were hushly discussing spells, specifically, offensive types of magic that Amanda knew. She’d promised to give Lotte a few pointers, after all. “So, yeah.” Amanda had just finished explaining how she “made” her spells. She sat atop the anvil, letting her legs kick back and forth idly. “They kinda just made sense to me. Like…. You know how magic is all malleable and shit, yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mhm?” Lotte on the other hand was properly seated in a chair she’d taken from inside. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, when it comes to stuff I’m good at, like manipulating fire, I kinda just… man I’m really bad at explaining this, but I just let my heat-of-the-moment instincts take care of the specifics, y’know?”</p><p> </p><p>“I-I think….” Lotte pushed up her glasses and pursed her lips. “The ones you showed me were pretty interesting, a-and the incants don’t seem that hard, but….” But Lotte couldn’t replicate them. “It doesn’t make sense, I guess.”</p><p> </p><p>“Honestly, I agree! It’s really fucking weird!” Amanda chortled. </p><p> </p><p>Lotte let her head roll back against the chair. Agreement wasn’t exactly what she was looking for. “There’s gotta be more… fighty kinds of spells,” It was the best worst way she could have put it. “That are easier to learn.” She thought of Murowa, the be all end all of utilitarian self defence tools that sat at the pinnacle of any witches arsenal. It was simple, easy to learn and master, yet never lost its effectiveness. It could be taken to heights like Constanze’s blaster and blow apart metal like it was made of plywood, or it could be little more than a simple zap or stun-gun like shock. Versatility and potency, all wrapped in one, neat, single worded package. Sadly, most other combat focused spells, or at least, the spells Amanda knew, seemed a little less intuitive to transfer. </p><p> </p><p>“Well…. If I can’t really teach you any specifics,” Amanda would keep trying of course; this was just a little discussion they were having about the subject while they waited for Constanze. “Then maybe I can help you make some of your own.” Lotte lifted her head up curiously, as if to ask how such a thing would be possible. Amanda smiled cockily, as she was want to do. “Easy.” She threw her hands behind her head, leaning back dangerously on the anvil despite the lack of an actual “back” to lean against. “We just need to get you mad and have you try and use some of that spirit magic of yours! It’s what you’re attuned to already, and yeah, usually you just talk to them, but I’m <em> pretty sure </em> I remember you pulling some crazy moves back during the time-fuck incident.” The “time-fuck incicident,” was, of course, one of Amanda’s ways of saying “The Hologarium Incident.” </p><p> </p><p>Lotte held a closed fist sideways by her chin. “I-I mean, s-so did Akko.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, sure, she used to suck at magic, but look at her now?” Amanda thrust herself off of the anvil, landing strong on her boots and letting her arms rest at her side. “She can hang with the likes of Cavendish and me.” </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t remember you being as good as Diana….” Lotte’s volume trailed off; she wasn’t trying to sound insulting.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda crossed her arms. “I mean <em> in a fight </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh….” Lotte fidgeted in her seat. </p><p> </p><p>“For all the stuff she blew up by accident, she’s gotten decent at blowing stuff up on purpose…. In a good way.” </p><p> </p><p>“I’d hope it’d be in a good way.” Amandan chuckled at Lotte’s jab, though Lotte only realized afterward that what she said was kind of funny, and so her response was delayed. “But um, about the spirits and the H-Hologarium stuff: I can ask the spirits to help me, but they don’t <em> have </em>to.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, have they ever turned you down when they really need you?”</p><p> </p><p>“N-No….” Lotte thought over it again, and then once more. She searched hard for an excuse without even knowing why she needed it. “I don’t think so.” She reaffirmed with greater confidence. </p><p> </p><p>“Ok, and now let’s maybe think about that freaky skull: Malitrix”</p><p> </p><p>“What about her?”</p><p> </p><p>“She wants to protect you, right?” Amanda drew nearer, casually strolling about. </p><p> </p><p>“I guess….” Lotte shot her eyes up suddenly at Amanda and firmly placed her hands in her own lap. “B-But I don’t want to rely on her! It’s why I want to learn how to fight on my own! I need to be s-self sufficient! I won’t let myself be dead weight!” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda held her hands up calmly. “Easy, Lotte, I get it, I get it.” Her confident smile remained prominent on her face. “I ain’t about to say just <em> rely </em> on her for all the heavy lifting: I was gonna say that you two should work together for that kinda thing. You channel the spells, summon up the magic, all that stuff, and Mali takes that energy and uses it to kick some vampire ass; any ass for that matter.” But hopefully not Amanda’s ass. “Like a team.”</p><p> </p><p>“A team….” Lotte actually liked the sound of that, though she still knew so little about Malitrix, both as a being and in terms of her capabilities. She seemed powerful, but also weak and frail at the same time. It was difficult to determine what she could and couldn’t do. “I’d have to ask her… if she’d be ok with that.” Again, Lotte had no idea why she was so quick to seek excuses, and so hesitant to accept the obvious.</p><p> </p><p>“You kiddin’ me!? That skull’s practically jumping to be your best friend! And she doesn’t even have legs!” Amanda laughed a little and stowed her hands in her pockets. “You’re worrying too much, Lotte.”</p><p> </p><p>Lotte felt her lips struggle to open or close. She was caught in a state of vocal confusion for a second before she blurted out a question: “How do you do that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Do what? Ask Mali about—”</p><p> </p><p>“N-No!” Lotte’s fists were brought close to her chest and she shook her head fervently. “I mean, how do you do that? How do you walk around and….” Lotte sighed, minding her volume. “How do you stay so confident? Despite all of the horrible...<em> horrible </em> stuff going on….” She almost was mad at herself for asking. She felt like it was a repeat of the question she had for her parents regarding their own perseverance. Yet, despite the answer they gave, despite how it made her feel calm and understanding at the time, she realized that the notion of simply having Sisu, some sort of unbreakable stubbornness and pride, was not enough for her. She’d seen a man die right before her eyes; his corpse was barely recognizable as human from the front. He looked more <em> roadkill </em> that’d been run over by an eighteen wheeler straight down the middle. It was a sight she’d no doubt have stuck with her possibly for the rest of her life. “It’s l-like nothing bad’s even going on for you. You keep fighting and… doing all these things as if it isn’t something that could get us killed, like you already know that we’re going to make it out w-when… when we don’t know if we’re going to make it!” Lotte’s eyes clenched shut for a brief few moments. She saw that gruesome clip play again, over and over in her mind; the body being hurled from the decrepit house, dispossessed of all humane qualifiers. It was a thing now, not a person. She breathed sharply, fighting off yet another fit of hyperventilation before she finished her rant more quietly, allowing her eyes to lock with Amanda’s own. “Like… like this is normal… but it’s not!” Lotte was almost jealous of how casually things seemed to slide off Amanda. Sure, Lotte could tell she had problems, and that she was stressed as hell from all of this, but she walked around so differently, even compared to Constanze. What was her secret? </p><p> </p><p>Amanda’s smile slowly turned fake. There was no secret, in truth, just distraction and internalization; bottling up and forgetting, hoping not to be reminded. Amanda wasn’t about to just say that outright though, in majority part because she wasn’t very self aware of how she was handling these fresh wounds on her psyche, but more cognizantly because she didn’t like to remember how she failed; the sting of the third and final trial continued to plague her. She would say this though: “Lotte….” She sighed and allowed herself to sit down beside her troubled friend. “Would you say I’m a pretty confident person? Like, all around, am I pretty sure of myself?”</p><p> </p><p>Lotte’s grief and anxiety quickly became overtaken by befuddlement. “Umm…. Yeeeesssss?” She wasn’t really sure whether this was a trick question or not.</p><p> </p><p>You’d be right, most of the time.” Amanda tapped at the floor with the tips of her shoes, channeling her anxiety into action. “But, recently, and… always, I guess, I have to admit that a lot of that was me faking it until I made it.” Lotte’s tense shoulders were eased as she looked into Amanda’s guilty, slightly pained look; one that she had even while still forcing that signature half-smile. “I can tell you for sure that I’m fakin’ it now, and maybe I’ve been faking it this whole time, but honestly, I don’t know if I can afford to keep getting anxious about it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Faking it…? But, even if you are, y-you’ve made it, right?” Lotte, as always, tried to look on the positive side of things when comforting friends. “And that’s how the saying goes: You fake it until you make it.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda’s smile faltered. “God, I wish I made it.” She ran a hand through her spiky hair, only for it flick back into her original style like a bent tree branch. “You said it yourself: We don’t know if we’re going to make it.” </p><p> </p><p>Lotte hummed glumly before she scooted her chair closer. “What about what my mom told you? How has that little strategy been helping?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda couldn’t deny that it’d been useful. “It’s nice, I guess.” But it wasn’t a miracle working mechanism. “I’m catching myself more often now; saying stuff I shouldn’t to myself, I mean.” It was all of those little, sometimes unnoticed or unacknowledged words and thoughts that bounced about her heard, the ones that told her she was worthless or otherwise reprehensible. Those were the ones she was starting to get better at managing. “Doesn’t really keep the voices at bay. Though, sometimes… I guess it helped me get rid of ‘em.” Again she thought of their time at Donar’s Oak. Ultimately though, Amanda was an impatient woman. “It’s just too much to change in so little time is all. Like, maybe if I was having an existential crisis when we weren’t in the middle of a <em> literal </em> crisis, then I’d feel better about this, but uh… doesn’t seem like life’s ever planned on going easy with me.” Amanda couldn’t help but make herself chuckle at that, if only to trick her brain into feeling less sad.</p><p> </p><p>Lotte saw through the laugh and tried to genuinely cheer Amanda up. “But you’re still able to walk around like everything’s... fine. T-That’s gotta be worth something, right?” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda blew a long, drawn out exhaling breath as she shook her head. “Maybe….” The smile from her chuckle had faded. “Maybe.” She thought back to all the talks she had over the past two weeks, all of the revelations and soul searching she’d gone through, and all that Constanze had similarly done in search of her own strength. While Constanze’s internal journey seemed to end here, at the place where her pain began, Amanda didn’t have a family to reconcile with. <em> “As if I ever need them to apologize. Their word wasn’t good ten years ago, so what good is it gonna be now?” </em> There was no reason to be had with those who perceived the world solely through a business ontology, where all thoughts and feelings were bought and sold, literally and figuratively. <em> “This ain’t about them anymore,” </em> Of that, Amanda was certain. <em> “It all comes back to me.” </em> Idly, her eyes drifted to her laps. Out of the corner of her vision, she saw the two marks upon her right hand which gripped the edge of the anvil for stability. <em> “Me and my own stupid brain, arguing with each other over stupid shit….” </em> Amanda sighed and looked up at Lotte. “Being honest: And I mean <em> really </em> being honest, it ain’t just an act though.”</p><p> </p><p>“What is it then?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda poked her tongue against her left and right cheek before nodding. “Spite. I’m still going strong all in spite of something.” She raised up her left hand and lifted up one finger for every particular thing she listed: “In spite of my blood family, in spite of all the people who told me I was a good for nothing punk, in spite of having basically no good income or place to live, and now in spite of a bunch of freaks who think they can just take everything good about my life away from me.” Then she let the hand fall to her lap where it twitched occasionally. She lifted up the right hand and looked it over. “In spite of fucking up when it matters most.”</p><p> </p><p>Lotte, in a kind gesture of care, left her baggage at the proverbial door as she stood and moved beside Amanda to comfort her. She felt a pang of resentment as she did so, but brushed it off for now. “Don’t say that, Amanda. You haven’t messed up at all during this.” Of course, Lotte was working under the assumption that the third trial was “interrupted,” and not failed. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda pursed her lips. “You’re right, you’re right… but it <em> feels </em> like I did.” And that’s what made this whole thing a problem. “About that: I may have… lied to you.”</p><p> </p><p>Lotte blinked twice. “What?” She sounded more upset than she intended to. She was more confused if anything.</p><p> </p><p>“I lied about—” Steps could be heard approaching from behind. The clack of boots against stone. Amanda and Lotte both froze, their minds cleared of whatever train of thought they were currently on, and they listened. At first, they were afraid that a Speartip soldier had snuck up on them, but they soon realized that Constanze’s hammering had ceased a few minutes ago, and that the footsteps were coming from up the stairs. The two gave each other a surprised glance before they hurried over to the entrance leading down into the forge. At the head of the descent, they could clearly see a familiar figure approaching, though she was adorned with four items of note:</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The least eye catching of the four was, of course, Malitrix. She had been slung to Constanze’s belt since her hands were otherwise occupied. Beside Malitrix sat a hammer, </span>
  <em>
    <span>the hammer</span>
  </em>
  <span>, mithril, glowing bright like the moon, strapped to her waist by way of an iron chain, now inscribed with a new name upon its hilt. The light from the hammer gave sight to the witches above, but it was not the only glow that illuminated Constanze. A blade, blazing with fire, sat longways in her hands, held up at about chest height. The flames did not burn her, though this was no illusion. Beside the greater ivory blade lay its smaller twin: A shadowed dirk, wreathed in a small black miasma, gave depth to the light given off by the aforementioned artifacts. From this combination of light and dark, Amanda and Lotte’s eyes grew wide as they spotted the look on their sister and friend’s face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Constanze was dirtied, lightly singed, and tired, but she was proud beyond measure, happy beyond knowing. She sported a teal bow in place of her now lost pink one, and stepped up with confident strides. As she walked, the two witches took notice of a certain flow to her movements: She was bobbing her head ever so slightly to a most pleasant, yet invisible song, one which soothed her soul. She had changed, yet remained the same. Amanda and Lotte both grew stupidly wide grins. The latter covered her mouth, gasping out of sheer joyous surprise, while the former started to laugh like she was witnessing a miracle come true, and indeed, it seemed like one had.</p><p> </p><p>Where once Constanze once felt that her chains had been severed with her blood family, now she knew the comfort and resolve of the new chains that she had forged to replace the old. Now, with the hammer at her side, and her sister at her back, Constanze, the last of her line, and newly blooded witch-smith, could finally see this conflict to its end. Even as the weight of their tasks crushed their shoulders, with witches that needed recruiting, grudges that needed settling, mysteries that needed solving, and friends who needed saving, Constanze finally felt she could hold herself, and her hammer, high. </p><p> </p><hr/>
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<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Dawn Approaches | Let it Die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ITS HERE! After a long few weeks, working on the Wangari fic, trouble with work, and a TON of effort, I bring you chapter twenty four!</p><p>I'm very pleased with it, and I have to say, now I know why folks say ending a story is the hardest part. Wrapping up Conz and Amanda's plots, and setting up the Fate's development and how things will turn out has been a hard prospect. I'm certain it could be done better, but if I just sit there and stare at it thinking that, then it'll never get done. With that in mind; readers, my most dedicated ones who've stuck with me to now: Tell me this makes sense. If it doesn't, say something. Let me improve it with your knowledge. It helps a ton. </p><p>That said, Chapter 25 is going to be Rondo in Black, and if you remember Interlude in Black, you'll have a decent idea of what you're in store for. </p><p>The only thing to note is that it will feature more non-interlude scenes (IE more normal scenes between the G docs). Instead of 2, there will be 4, so it'll be 1 g doc, then 2 scenes, then 1 gdoc, then 2 scenes, then 1 g doc. Make sense? Cool! Hope you're looking forward to it!</p><p>My tumblr!: https://karmotrinedreams91.tumblr.com/</p><p>My Twitter!: https://twitter.com/KarmotrineDrea1 </p><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The stillness of night yet loomed over Ludinghal. The cold couldn’t be ignored forever. Amanda, Constanze, Lotte had quickly moved themselves inside the house proper, away from the forge, after their initial celebration. They were all in the kitchen, with Amanda standing by the round dinner table across from Lotte while Constanze managed to find herself a few sanitary bottles of water that she used to clean her hands and face, and to soothe the stinging of her burns. Upon the table sat the twin ivory blades: Dyrnwyn and Carnwennan, hidden within their sheathes, resting gently in the blackstone box which stored them for generations. </p><p> </p><p>The room had been quiet for a few minutes as Constanze calmed and cleaned herself, all while still tapping to the now ever-present tune of her forge song. Lotte and Amanda both were still riding that same excitement, or at least, they put on the appearance that they were. In Lotte’s case, it was a welcome distraction from her dread and queasiness; her stomach was still in turmoil over the wretched sight that now plagued her. On the other hand, Amanda was face to face with something that should send her over the moon, but instead, the sight of the blades, or rather, the blade, only agitated her doubt, picking at it like a bad scab. “Alright! Time to test this bad boy out!” She was speaking of Carnwennan, which Amanda was genuinely excited to test out, but Dyrnwyn taunted her. More specifically, the “rules” surrounding its enchantment made her think twice about drawing it. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda forgot about that for the moment and instead focused on the dagger she was now fiddling with. She tossed it up into the air and caught it with the grace of any jack-knife wielding, leather jacket wearing, cigarette smoking, alley side greaser. The famed dagger, once broken, and now whole, sported a wide, straight blade in the shape of a tall V. It’s hilt was ivory, as was Dyrnwyns, but in place of a bright red gemstone, a black one was lodged in the center and top of the hilt. From that gem spilled a cloud of black, wispy smoke which followed the dagger wherever it went. As Amanda tossed it around, she created a small pillar of inky clouds that dispersed with every successive toss that followed. “Damn, this thing’s pretty light for how thick it is.” </p><p> </p><p>“What does it do?” Asked Lotte. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda clicked her tongue. “If Maxwell was right….” Then she caught the blade one final time before spinning on her heel and throwing it at the wall behind her. </p><p> </p><p>“A-Amanda!” Lotte practically leapt out of her seat as the blade embedded itself in the aging wood. “What was that for!?” </p><p> </p><p>“I’m trying to get it to work!” Answered Amanda. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmm?” Constanze glanced over her shoulder, her rhythm having been interrupted. </p><p> </p><p>“Now I just….” Amanda focused on the blade, squinting slightly. “Teleport! Um… Go! Something, something….” She rolled her wand wielding hand as she tried to figure out what exactly the trigger was. Nothing seemed to work though, so she went back over and wrenched Carnwennan out from the wall. “Maaaaybe this’ll be harder than I thought.” Her eyes scanned the dirk over again, searching for a secret button, or maybe a source of power.</p><p> </p><p>“So… you’re supposed to… be able to teleport to it…?” Lotte scooted her chair a little closer, having calmed her jumpy nerves. </p><p> </p><p>“That’s the idea, but I don’t really know how.”</p><p> </p><p>“M-Maybe the gem in the center has something to do with it?” </p><p> </p><p>“Maybe….” Amanda tapped at it, but nothing happened. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmm.” Constanze’s grunt caught the other two’s attention. “Your wand.” Then they looked at Amanda's wand. “Should be a connection, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“You mean between me and the wand?” Constanze nodded. “Yeah… yeah!” Amanda smiled wide. “Can’t believe I almost forgot!” She brought the wand and dagger together and whispered a singular word of power, making the two tools one. They melded into one another, though Carnwennan maintained its original shape, save for a sharpening flourish of the once flat edged cross guard. The rest of the changes were more internal, the magical aura of the blade had grown substantially, though it was visible only to those who concentrated deeply in order to sense such arcane pressences. “<em> Now </em> we’re talking!” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze smiled and fully turned about. “Mmm.” She gestured forwardly. <em> “Try now.” </em> </p><p> </p><p>Amanda turned herself to face the damaged wall once more, took a few steps, back, and aimed carefully. She flipped the blade to be holding it by the tip, winded her arm back, and threw it more professionally. Again, Carnwennan struck true against the wall, but that wasn’t the hard part. “So now, I just have to—” And with that, Amanda was gone. She dispersed into black smoke. Lotte shot up from her stool and Constanze rubbed her eyes. There wasn’t even a warning. Amanda was just go— “Focus on it, right?” But within the span of a single second, she was back, appearing from a similar puff of smoke that burst out from Carnwennan. Both Lotte and Constanze flinched in surprise. “What?”</p><p> </p><p>“A-Amanda? Are you…?”</p><p> </p><p>“Am I what?”</p><p> </p><p>“Teleported.” Said Constanze.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda sighed. “Well that’s what I’m <em> trying </em> to do, but it’s gonna be hard if you guys keep lookin’ at me like I got two heads.” She turned around and went to look at the dagger in the wall, only to find her face mere inches from that self same wall. She jumped back and made an inscrutable, startled sort of noise, raising her arms up defensively. Then she saw it: The dagger in her hands. “Eh!? How the hell—!? I was just—! And then….” Amanda looked between her bewildered comrades, the wall, and the dagger. Then she started laughing, though her expression remained as one of confusion. “What the fuck man? I didn’t even try to do that!” All she could do was shrug. </p><p> </p><p>“Should we t-try it again?” Lotte tapped at her chin quizzically. </p><p> </p><p>“Mhm.” Constanze was all too eager to see the fruits of her labour realized. “Again.” She had her fists clenched enthusiastically at chest height. </p><p> </p><p>“Heh.” Amanda snickered. “Guess I can’t turn down my fans.” Her confused shrug turned into a more smug, oh-so-cocky one; her posture straightened up, she turned her head sideways and she closed her eyes. All of this, rightfully, earned her a groan from her “fans,” loudest of all from Constanze. In return, Amanda faux leered before flinging the dagger at Constanze, being careful to aim high above her shorter sister. Constanze of course ducked and covered herself, only for Amanda to appear at the halfway point, spinning in the air, and snatching Carnwennan right out of its flight path. She landed in a squat position, still grinning like the cocky fool she was. Lotte covered her mouth in shock, having thought that Constanze might get hit, while Constanze herself stood up and gave her sister a death glare. “Heheh, what? You said I should try it o—OW!” She deserved that slap. Amanda held her now reddened cheek, covering the faint imprint of Constanze’s left hand. “Jesus! What the hell was that for!?”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze didn’t even deign to answer that with words. Her glare and crossed arms said it all: <em> “For nearly skewering me with a fucking dagger.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>“Oh, come on! You know I wasn’t aiming for you!” Amanda pushed herself up, and rubbed her sore cheek as she chuckled. “I threw it high!” Something Constanze’s ever-intensifying glare told that <em> something else </em> was going to get thrown high if Amanda did quit messing around. She gulped a small amount of regret and held her palms up flatly. “Ehehe…. Look, I swear, I won’t do it ag—” Sadly, her gesture saw her accidentally dropping the dagger to the floor, and by some strange machination, that made her “poof” to the floor; or rather, it made her teleport form a vertical standing position, into a horizontal, flat faced position. “Oof!” To put it nicely, the floor wasn’t very comfortable.</p><p> </p><p>“Pfffbb…. Pff….” But it <em> was </em> very funny. “Hahaha!” Constanze’s sisterly annoyance fell away in an instant, turning right into genuine laughter. </p><p> </p><p>Such a rare, pleasant sound, sucked Lotte into laughter as well, albeit hers was much weaker. “Ha… haha….” </p><p> </p><p>And, of course, Amanda found it easy to laugh at herself. “Ehehe.” She grunted and giggled while pushing herself off of the floor, dagger in hand. “Hahaha!” But she and the other two were cut off by a sudden creaking from outside. Each of them fell deathly quiet and raised their wands, or in Amanda’s case, her dagger. It took them a moment to realize that it was just the wind wearing down on the abandoned Von Braunschbank home, allowing the triumvirate witches to sigh in collective relief. Each of them leaned back against or slumped up in front of the dining table; they’d nearly forgotten they were in a highly restricted, and possibly classified, location. “Ok… maaaaaybe we should mess around with these things later.” </p><p> </p><p>“Y-Y-Yeah, we shouldn’t risk getting caught.” Lotte’s eyes went past Amanda and toward the living room where the camera was set up. “We should do that video before we get found.” Her wand sat just beside the very same camera. She looked down at her watch and hummed nervously. “We’ve only got about a half an hour before the invisibility wears off.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmm.” Constanze agreed, but she also wanted to double check something before they wrapped things up. “What about Dyrnwyn?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda lifted her head up from her slumped over stature. “Uhh, what about Dyrnwyn?” She sucked her lips in just a bit, enough to not go noticed. </p><p> </p><p>“Try it.” Constanze nodded. “Worked when I forged it, but I didn’t sheath it.” She rounded the table and lifted the longsword up, examining it carefully. “Drawing it is the trigger. Sets it on fire.” </p><p> </p><p>“Y-Yeah….” Constanze was right, but she left out the detail that had Amanda hesitant. “But really, we should focus on this video. Thirty minutes is <em> not </em> a lot of time, and we got <em> a lot </em> to say.” In fact, they didn’t even know exactly what they were going to say. “Besides, I’m not about to risk burning the house down by accident.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze shifted her lips a little to the left, sensing something off with Amanda. “Mmmm….” She thought about it for a moment before acquiescing. “Fair enough.” There was no point arguing, since it was <em> likely </em> nothing. Tonight had been <em> a lot </em> to experience, and Constanze wasn’t about to act like any of that was normal. “Mhm mm.” She nodded and rose gestured over to the camera. <em> “Let’s get this done.” </em> She was exhausted, and the tune of her forge song wouldn’t keep her awake forever. </p><p> </p><p>The trio made their way into the living room. Details were settled, a script was hashed out, and then promptly abandoned for a rough outline because Amanda couldn’t remember her lines, but knew generally what she needed to say, and lastly, the camera was set. “I-I’m ready to film whenever you guys are.”Said Lotte as she ducked down behind the camera, ensuring the picture quality was just right. She needed to stay back behind the camera. If they needed to refer to her during the video, they were to call her “L,” since she was trying to remain anonymous given the situation. Amanda and Constanze didn’t have homes or family’s to return to, save for each other, unlike Lotte; they could be more safely identified if less “helpful” types were to stumble upon the video. “Are you guys good to go?” Amanda was pretty certain on what she wanted to say. And after talking with Constanze, they had agreed that she’d do most of the speaking for smoothness’ sake. She gave Lotte a casual two fingered a salute as her confirmation. “Ok… and Constanze?” A little bit of adjusting on the resolution saw Constanze nodding.</p><p> </p><p>“Mhm.” The newly forged witch-smith raised up a thumb. </p><p> </p><p>“Alright… three… two… one….” Lotte hoped this worked like they hoped it would. “Action!”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The video opened up with a strong, forward facing shot on Amanda and Constanze. The former of the two had her right leg raised and bent up on the blackstone box which held the twin blades; her right arm was resting against it, and her expression was slightly scrunched up with seriousness. Constanze stood next to Amanda, holding her arms up across her chest, and sporting a less sharp, more stonewalled expression, the one she was most known for. </p><p> </p><p>“Alright people, listen up:” Amanda wasn’t messing around. “We’re here to set the record straight about this Bathory shit. We’re witches from Luna Nova, and we’re dead serious when we say that we need your help.” A pause followed as Amanda regarded her sister before looking back into the camera. “And we’ve got more than enough to prove how real this is.” The footage cut to another scene, yet Amanda’s voice remained; woven throughout the edited recording. </p><p> </p><p>The camera depicted a broom’s eye view of Ludinghal; the trio had used what power they had left in Lotte’s invisibility spell to fly high and catch greater evidence of Speartips dealings. “You see this? This is Ludinghal.”</p><p> </p><p>“This <em> was </em> Ludinghal.” Corrected Constanze. </p><p> </p><p>“And we’re here because we needed to make sure we were prepared for what we’re up against.” The camera cut again, showing another angle of the complex from on high. Armed guards patrolled below, armored cars rolled by, and hazmatted scientists meandered between buildings. “You can do a lot with movie magic, but none of what you’re seein’ is fake. We’re here. The danger is real. We’re not playing games.” It cut back to Amanda and Constanze in the ruined house. Amanda continued: “We’re risking gettin’ shot, thrown in prison, everything terrible you could think of and worse to save our friends and family. Do you honestly think someone would go this far for a lie? Or for something that wasn’t really as bad as they said it was?” Silence followed, not that the audience could answer of course. More panning shots from the porch of the house showing the same patrols seen from above were spliced between future lines. </p><p> </p><p>“If that won’t convince you, then I don’t know what will.” Amanda sighed. “But if it does convince you, or at least if you’re taking this seriously now, then keep watching.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze took over for a bit. “We have a plan. We know what we need to do. But we need people like you to help us.” Constanze paused. “Doesn’t matter who you are. If you can, and want to help, do it. We need everyone we can get.” A few more panning shots of Ludinghal preceded a return to focusing on Constanze and Amanda. The former drew her hammer from her belt and held it at around chest height. “If you can’t come armed, and you can’t fight with magic, I’ll make you weapons. We have the means. We can do this if you help us.” </p><p> </p><p>“And you NEED to help us!” Urged Amanda. “I get it, all of us, the world doesn’t revolve around Luna Nova, or us, or anyone! It just keeps spinning no matter what happens, but that’s the problem: If we can’t stop the Bathorys here and now, then we might not get a chance to stop them in the future.” With a handy bit of editing, Lotte was able to put in a few clips of reports made on the attacks around Southern Britain and Northern France. The headlines of said stories ranged from death, roadside accidents, and lucky survivors, to vandalized and abandoned homes, missing persons cases, and even a few reports that looked unrelated at first, but detailed prominents figures in certain corporate, political, or administrative positions “falling ill,” with similar symptoms.</p><p> </p><p> “It’s bigger than Luna Nova, and the people who’ve been suffering from these attacks know that more than any of us. None of us can afford to wait and see what happens, and we can’t afford to hope that the island doesn’t get turned into a crater if we try and go through the ‘official’ channels or whatever the hell you wanna call them!” Amanda’s words were as enflamed as her soul. As the camera focused on the two sisters again, keen observers might even see Amanda exhale out hot air, distorting the air in front of her, and lacking the white cloud that came with Constanze’s own freezing breath. “We’ve heard about some of the shit that’s been going down in Munich, London, The States, everywhere! The whole world’s going to shit as far as magic is concerned, and honestly, even if you aren’t a witch or Fae, I bet you couldn’t tell me with a straight face and honest heart that we aren’t knee deep in the thick of some fucked up times.” Her hair waved lightly in a wind that never existed for anyone else; her tips danced like little wicks on a candle, almost like a trick of the light. Amanda lifted her right fist up and clenched it tightly. “I’ll be damned if I let us sink any further. We’ve gotta do something about it, and fast.” The unfinished mark of the order would catch the eyes of most observers. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze interjected then, though her clarification flowed naturally. “We won’t change the world. Won’t change it in a week either, but we can start to change it today..”</p><p> </p><p>“Because what if tomorrow never comes like you expected it to?” Amanda lowered her foot from the box and rounded it, taking center stage before the camera. “Most of y’all watching this from home probably feel safe to assume that you’ve got time to spare, that we can take our time and trust things to work how they’re intended to, how we’ve been told they're supposed to, but guess what: That’s never happened, and it’s not gonna happen. You turn on the news, and even before the missile crisis, it was all a downhill slope. Things are getting worse despite all the trust we put into the groups and people who said they could save us, who said they could fix the problems they won’t admit they made…. It’s bullshit!” Amanda cut the air horizontally with her right hand with that exclamation. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze approached from behind and gently rested a hand on Amanda’s shoulder. The fiery witch sighed and nodded, backing up and keeping herself in check. Constanze regarded the hammer, and then the camera. “She’s right. Only we can save ourselves. Save each other.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda nodded. “It’s why we’ve gone through everything we have….” Amanda too looked upon her memento of the order; the mark upon her right hand. She imagined it as complete, whole, only to digress at the reality of their situation. Still, she held it up and pointed to it for all the viewers to see. “You see this?” Lotte zoomed the camera in on it. “Me and my sister here both got this mark just so we could fight for everything we stand for: For our friends, our family, our loved ones…. But not just for them! We’re fighting for you too!” The camera zoomed out. “This mark’s from the Order of The Balefire, and I don’t care how dead it is or how crazy you think this sounds, but we’re gonna carry on the fight that the order stood for, starting by offing those crazy vampires.” Amanda was back by the blackstone box now, and so she kicked it open with a swift motion from her left boot. The blades within then levitated out of the box and unsheathed themselves, willed to do as such by Amanda’s wand; she would’ve drawn it with her hands were it not for her fears. “We’ll either save Luna Nova and countless other lives or die trying. With your help, maybe we won’t have to even worry about failing.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze came next. “Maybe you won’t have to be as afraid about what comes next.” </p><p> </p><p>Then it went back to Amanda. “Maybe you won’t feel like you need to rely on people you never knew or heard of, people who never had to struggle like you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe you’ll learn how to stand up and fight for yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>“And maybe you’ll stand up and fight with US! All of us! Everyone watching this who just can’t take it anymore!” Amanda saw the blades sheathed again before reaching out and strapping them to her belt. “Even if that doesn’t resonate with you, if you can’t afford to fight with us, please, just spread this around. There’s gotta be people out there who can….” Amanda sighed and shook her head. “There’s just gotta.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze took over again, giving Amanda time to recuperate. “If you’re watching this, and you can help us: Go to Porthcurno. It’s a shore town in the southern UK. Bring everything you think you might need. We have a plan to fix this, but we don’t know what exactly might try and stop us.” With that, Constanze took center stage. “I know it sounds scary. Lots of variables. Uncertainties. Things could get ugly. Things <em> will </em> get ugly….” Constanze glanced down to her hammer again before fixating back on the camera. “But things are already ugly enough.” More shots of Ludinghal, this time from a farther distance, played out in the video. “We know what it means to lose your home. The people you love. I lost that. Almost all of it. The Bathorys destroyed my home. They destroyed Ludinghal. And they’ll destroy yours too if you let them.” A brief pause broke up her call to action: “If you’re like me, with no home left to run to, or you have a home that’s under attack, come with us. Help us.”</p><p> </p><p>Having been afforded a moment, Amanda came to finish the video off. “We need you. Luna Nova needs you. The whole damn world needs you! Yourself included!” A final bit of editing magic faded the distanced scene of Ludinghal out, replacing it with footage of a blue-burning torch. “Order or not, the Balefire needs people like you who can stand up and fight for what’s right. If we do nothing, we’ve got everything to lose, and nothing to gain…. But if we do something, <em> anything </em>, we have everything to gain.” The blue flamed torch stood solitary against a dark backdrop, flickering and waving in an unseen wind. “From here on out, me and my sister are fighting for a brighter tomorrow…. We just hope you’ll fight with us, because all it's gonna take to beat these sons-a-bitches is for all of us to stand up and fight!” So ended the video, giving way to the ambience of the evening.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The wind howled, the winter night whistled, and the moon, now reaching its apex in the sky, waxed brightly. “W-Wow….” The witches triumvirate were broombound; they’d been editing, filming, and reviewing the footage of their tape. At least, Lotte and Constanze were doing that; Amanda wasn’t the most technically savvy. “That came out b-better than I thought.” Lotte was surprisingly good with arcane film editing software.</p><p> </p><p>“Mhm.” And Constanze was quick to notice. “Where’d you learn that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ehhhh….” Maybe now wasn’t the time to discuss Lotte’s many “deep dive analysis” videos on the Nightfall series. “I kiiiinda just got bored one day and uh, t-tried it out!” She was a terrible liar. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze let it roll off the conversation though. “Did good.” She nodded approvingly before she let her eyes fixate on the sky ahead of them, though she immediately found it difficult to keep them open. Even now, her strength was fading. “Post it.”</p><p> </p><p>Lotte nodded energetically. “On it!” She psyched herself up with a little exhale before she got to work spreading the video on the Vexful Hexful boards.</p><p> </p><p>“Isn’t this just aaaauggghh….” A yawn escaped Amanda’s lips as she tried to speak. “Ugh…. A recruitment film at this point?” The events of the day were getting to her too. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm…?” Grunted Constanze, as if to ask: <em> “And…?” </em> </p><p> </p><p>“Isn’t that kinda… a shit thing to do when we’ve got all of this going on?” Amanda felt a bit nauseous, strangely enough.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze cocked her head and gave Amanda a confused look. “No…?”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe I’m just overthinking it.” Amanda shook her head. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmm.” Constanze nodded. </p><p> </p><p>Lotte tapped at her chin as she fiddled away with her and witch-net display. “I mean…. I guess I see where you’re coming from, Amanda.” She tucked her camera away in their travel bags after minimizing it. “But isn’t this kinda what the Balefire did?” She paused before she felt she needed to clarify. “Like, fighting vampires and monsters…. That kinda thing.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah…. Yeah you’re right.” Amanda nodded. “Sorry, it’s not like I didn’t believe what I was sayin’ in the video or anything, but I guess I just feel weird.” She cracked her neck to the left, and then the right. “Like I got carried away.” She still wasn’t sure she was cut out for any pledges she’d made toward Asgall or Jehanne. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze hummed before replying. “Just the kind of person you are. Natural orator.” </p><p> </p><p>“Wait, seriously?” Amanda blinked. “Me? A natural orator?” </p><p> </p><p>“Mhm.”</p><p> </p><p>“How?”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze pursed her lips. She didn’t really care if it was true by most other standards. “Mmm….” She wasn’t sure how to describe it. To her, Amanda had a way of getting people just as fired up as she was. She’d proven herself back at Porthcurno when this all started, during the Hologairum crisis, and now again with that video. She thought about all they’d been through, and how Amanda had kept Constanze strong throughout it; then she thought of the fire within, and the comparison struck her, making her smile lightly. “You’re good at getting people fired up.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda nodded casually and looked back toward the endless horizon before them, only to shoot her head back a moment later with a contemptuous, disgusted sort of look on her face. “Did you <em> seriously </em> just make that pun!?” Constanze shook her head and feigned clearing her throat. Amanda slowly wiped her face and groaned loudly, masking the bits of laughter that leaked out of her tired throat. “You know, for someone who just got done visiting their dead family’s home, the one that got fucking turned into a military compound or something, you’re pretty fucking chipper.” In an instant, Constanze felt her grip around her broom tighten just a bit. That anger of hers threatened to rise up and out again. </p><p> </p><p>“A-Amanda!” Lotte nearly cringed off of her broom at how bluntly rude Amanda sounded. </p><p> </p><p>“What!? I was just—” Amanda thought it over for a moment and realized just why Lotte recoiled so harshly at her words. <em> “Fuck.” </em> Amanda’s own fists tightened around her broom as she flew a little closer to her remarkably unresponsive sister. “Ok, fuck, that was bad. I said that <em> really badly </em>, and I’m—” A flatly raised palm halted Amanda’s apology. “Eh?”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze then lowered the hand and exhaled calmly. “It’s ok.” The tune of her forge song kept it all in check. She still knew anger as any other human did, but no longer did she feel consumed by it. “I get what you mean.” Awkward silence whistled on the wind until Constanze forced herself to speak further. “Feeling better. Not perfect. But better.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda rubbed the back of her head as she sucked in her lips, wanting for words until she simply spat out whatever came to mind. “I’m glad, but I’m honestly kinda at a loss here.” Again, silence overtook the airways. Constanze hummed, her emotion inscrutable, but her face clearly showed she was hard at work processing Amanda’s words. Lotte hesitated to interject; maybe they should wait on this, she thought. Ultimately though, she withheld her objections. Given and Amanda were calling each other sisters now, it didn’t feel like Lotte had a place in this issue. And so Amanda asked the question on both her and Lotte’s mind: “What happened down there?”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze kept her eyes forward, her broom level, and her breathing calm. She let her fingers tap to the invisible rhythm of her magical labor, let her mind think to its beatific beat, and only responded when she was certain of the exact words she would use. “I found my forge song. Me and my dad, the shard of him. We worked it out. He helped me find it.” There was more to say, but Constanze wanted to be sure every bit of her explanation sank in; especially for Amanda, who had helped her through this trial of the spirit from the very beginning. “I hear it all the time now, and… and I like it. It’s comforting.” Even now, she could enjoy a sense of ease brought on by the rhythms of her labor. “It let me work. Helped me channel my emotions.... I’m not as afraid of them as I used to be.” It wasn’t anything like what Croix did to harness the arcane powers of human thought and emotion, but at the least, Croix’s theory had given Constanze a springboard to find her own way with.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda clicked her tongue and rolled her jaw from left to right. “And what about your dad? What did he say?” There was no small amount of contempt on Amanda’s tongue when referring to Constanze’s father.</p><p> </p><p>The contempt from her sister uneased Constanze, but she also couldn’t deny that it was well warranted; she’d sound the same way were their places switched. “He explained why he did it.” Gone was her own contempt though. Now there was understanding. “He knows it was wrong. Maybe he always knew. Doesn’t matter, never did. He knows that too.” Constanze slightly raised her eyes, allowing herself to fixate on the moon. Its rays comforted her in a way that no human could easily articulate. “I understand him….” She paused briefly, second guessing herself. “Is it sympathy or empathy?”</p><p> </p><p>“Uhhh, what d'ya mean?” Asked Amanda, sounding a little prickly.</p><p> </p><p>“When you feel it and… they experienced something…. Mmmm.” Constanze thought she had all the right words, but such was her difficulties with speaking. </p><p> </p><p>“Like, he went through similar shit?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mm.” Constanze nodded. </p><p> </p><p>“Empathy.” Said Lotte as she closed up her riding posture. “It’s empathy.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks.” Constanze kept her eyes on the moon as she picked up where she left off. “I feel empathy for him. My grandpa tried to force him to do what I’m doing.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda slowly turned her head to the side trying to understand it. “Sooooo, he tried to make your dad be a witch-smith?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mhm.”</p><p> </p><p>“But how the hell does that excuse the shit he did to you?” Amanda, in a display of broom riding safety, let go of her broom and threw her arms out wide toward Constanze. </p><p> </p><p>“It doesn’t.” Amanda froze up before pulling her arms back to her sides, and then putting them back on her broom. “I didn’t forgive him.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda sighed before setting her sights dead ahead. “The way you’re actin’ kinda made it seem like you did.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmm….” Constanze supposed that assumption was fair. “Didn’t need to. He didn’t need it. Didn’t want it…. Just wanted me to be better. Wanted me to succeed. Not make the same mistakes he did. Do what I love and be myself.”</p><p> </p><p>Lotte smiled and drove her broom a bit closer to Constanze’s own, having given pause to her posting efforts for now. “I-I don’t know what your dad was like, but based on that, I can tell he loves you.”</p><p> </p><p>“He did.” Constanze’s eyes drifted down to her belt; the hammer gleamed in the moonlight, and the chains that bound it to her jingled in the wind. “Mm. He does.” The Spirits of her smithing ancestors may have been dormant, but she knew them to ever be at her side now. “Helped me understand what I needed to do. He made it all… worth it, I guess.”</p><p> </p><p>“Worth it?” Amanda spat to the wind at her right. “You mean the abuse? How’s a twenty minute chat supposed to make that all fine and dandy?” </p><p> </p><p>Lotte whipped her head around and gave Amanda a dirty look. “Amanda, just, stop, ok?!” She was just about done with the drama for today, her own especially, but Amanda’s as well. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda shook her head. “What, Lotte!? Am I the bad guy for giving a shit about my sister?” </p><p> </p><p>“Both of you!” Constanze’s voice drew their attention. Lotte was the first to have Constanze’s focus. “Lotte: It’s fine. We’ll work it out.” Once Lotte sighed and let her broom fall behind the other two, Constanze turned to her sister. “Amanda: Don’t push me.” Her warning bade Amanda to exhale as deeply as she could and prompted her to loosen the tension that was unknowingly building in her shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, honestly.” Amanda gave a dismissive looking wave, though she was trying to be genuine. “I’m just… on edge I guess.” The night had been long, but more importantly, the subject was touchy for Amanda in a way she couldn’t very well explain in that moment. It just felt <em> wrong </em> to her somehow; this resolution. “It’s been a long fucking night.” </p><p> </p><p>  “Mm.” Constanze nodded understandingly. “Would you feel better if I explained why I feel like this?” Amanda nodded in turn, though more wearily. “Mmm.” Constanze fought off the urge to yawn as she pressed on. “There’s no point in me holding onto it forever. Sure. I didn’t forgive him. That doesn’t mean I can’t move on. I accepted what he did. I know why, he knows why; it’s done. It happened. I can’t go back and change that, and he can't either.” Amanda’s posture swayed slightly from left to right; she was still not convinced. “But that’s not the point. We both would if we could. Neither of us wanted it to happen like that. That doesn’t mean I think it was good. It just means….” Constanze looked at her ancestral hammer once more. “It means I can stop worrying about it… as much.” She knew that this was no “end” to her woes. She would forever be scarred, but from here on, she could at least take solace in the fact that she had properly treated what was once a scab, a festering wound; infected no more. “It’s a part of me. Wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But wouldn’t go without it. Couldn’t. Doesn’t make sense to. Not the reality we live in.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda wiped her face with both hands and brought her eyes to gaze at the moon just as he sister did prior. “I guess that makes sense.” But it still angered her. <em> “Why though?” </em> She wanted to figure that out here and now. “I dunno, sis.” She shook her head. “This just feels… wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze quirked her head. “But it’s not… your…  problem?” She did her best not to sound rude, even if she was right. </p><p> </p><p>“I know, I know: It’s your parents, your business, I get it.” Amanda leaned back somewhat, eventually allowing herself to turn her head to face her sister. “But I’m… worried,” No she wasn’t, but that felt natural to say. “Worried you might be trying to forget about all of this too quickly.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll never forget.” Constanze assured. “I don’t want to.” Well, part of her did, but not in <em> that </em>way. “I wanted to work through it. Not around it.” </p><p> </p><p>“How did you though?” Amanda felt that she desperately needed to know.</p><p> </p><p>The question was legitimate, more legitimate than some of the others Amanda asked about this; it prompted Constanze to well and truly ponder on what she experienced. Her thoughts danced to that new tune in her mind. Maybe not “new” per say, but certainly newly welcomed. <em> “What was I running from all this time?” </em> That’s how Constanze understood things like this at least. People always “ran away” from trauma, from struggle, external and internal, until they held the means to overcome it. <em> “Means….” </em> She thought of the hammer; all of the hammers, tools, gizmos, gadgets. And of Nikolai, what he and all things like him stole away from people like Constanze. <em> “It all comes together somehow, right?” </em>It had to, after all; how else could she have gotten here? Constanze thought and thought. Her left hand wandered up to her hair and brushed it idly from her face. It’s then when she caught sight of her bow out of her peripherals; it was still blue, just as The Spirit had made it. It made her smile a little, and urged her to figure this out even more. </p><p> </p><p>About a minute passed before it struck her: The formula. <em> “Problem: I hated my biological family. Means: Amanda. Myself. Perseverance. The Spirit in the hammer…. Love, I guess.” </em> Cliche as that last one sounded, Constanze wasn’t about to say that her final words to The Spirit were disingenuous. <em> “Reason: I needed to move on. For my sake.” </em> Her eyes went to Lotte, Amanda, the sky beyond, and the world below. <em> “For all of their sakes.” </em> She’d never forgive herself if she allowed that trauma, that anger, to consume her and jeopardize their mission. <em> “Just one piece left.” </em> One she often never cognizantly considered. <em> “Solution: Become what I thought my past stopped me from being.” </em>Her left hand gripped the broom once more as the right went to her belt; the hammer. She gazed upon both it and the incomplete mark on the back of her hand and exhaled peacefully. “I took back what was mine.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda raised a brow. “What’s that?” </p><p> </p><p>“My life. Past, present, future. It was stolen from me. The order. The truth. The art of witch-smithing.” Constanze lifted the hammer and showed it to Amanda. “<em> This </em> was stolen from me.” Then she looked over it slowly; once, twice. “But now I have it back. I didn’t just steal it back. <em> He gave it to me. </em> He didn’t want me to do this when he was alive. He didn’t want me to become this when he was <em> dead </em>. But he still gave it to me. He did what I wished he did from the start: He let me work the way I always wanted to. He let me be myself.” Constanze gripped the hammer tightly. Its arcane glow illuminated her face, bringing light to the slowly forming smile that she now made. “All I have to do now is let me be myself.” </p><p> </p><p>For all the anguish and woe Lotte was mired in, she couldn’t deny that Constanze’s poetic explanation uplifted her, just as Constanze’s triumphant march up the steps uplifted them earlier.</p><p> </p><p>While it made Lotte smile, it did no such thing for Amanda, who could only sigh. “That makes sense.” Smiling or not, Constanze had convinced her. “I’m glad it worked out for you,” But she now understood why her sister’s resolution only brought her frustration. “I just wish I was lucky enough to be able to say that about my own family bullshit.” Envy had its ways. </p><p> </p><p>Luckily for Amanda, Constanze understood that fact well. “Changed your mind?” She asked. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda thought about it briefly before shaking her head. “No, no. Like, sometimes I feel like maybe I would want things to be better between me and them….” But then the next moment, she’s kicking herself for even humoring the thought. “I know better than to linger on them now. I’ve gotta keep goin’ like I always have been.” Even if that unchangingness pained her to accept; the voice and spectre of Sucy quietly haunting her. “Just gotta push on through this with all the spite, Sisu, or whatever the hell you wanna call it that I got until things start feeling normal again.” As if things would return to normal once all was said and done.  </p><p> </p><p>“Mm mmmm.” Constanze hummed thoughtfully. <em>“I understand.” </em>She was glad to hear Amanda was making progress, at least. Constanze tried to carry that understanding further though, but ultimately, she felt like she’d exhausted her wisdom on the matter. “But I don’t know what else to say….”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda shook her head. “You don’t gotta say anything.” Then she gave a sorrowful, but thankful, sidelong glance to her sister. “You’ve done enough for me already. You figured your shit out, and now it’s my turn to figure my shit out.” Amanda faced forward afterward, looking out toward the endless horizon, her mind feeling somewhat blank, dull even. Constanze tried to offer a smile to cheer Amanda up, but it went wholly unnoticed, and so silence descended on the witches.</p><p> </p><p>For a little bit at least. “Can’t say I ain’t tired of having to do this though.” Constanze raised a brow at Amanda’s continued ruminating. “Despite all the stuff you’ve done for me, all the talking I’ve done with everyone, I keep having to grit my teeth just to get by. I dunno how it took me so long to realize, but that shit’s exhausting.” That roller coaster of highs and lows, peaks and valleys in confidence and cadence, it had been exhausting for her entire life. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze nodded and grunted. “Mmm….” Her grumbles were starting to become just that: Grumbles. She was too tired to have much more of a deeper conversation after all that had been said and done that night. “We need to sleep. Should land soon.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda sighed. “Yeah…. Yeah, let’s find somewhere to stay.” It was getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open, making the prospect of scanning the ground from on high none too welcoming. </p><p> </p><p>Lotte finally allowed herself to rejoin the formation and conversation. “I got the video uploaded. Now… we just need to wait, I guess.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm.” Grunted Constanze. <em> “Good work.” </em>She glanced back afterward. “We’re going to land soon. Calling it for the night.”</p><p> </p><p>Lotte smiled genuinely, her body going partially slack with relief at such wonderful news. “Oh luojan kiitos,” Finally, they could sleep.  “How much longer until we stop?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda rubbed her eyes before yawning. When she was all done with that, she wearily replied. “Excellent fuckin’ question; I got no idea.” </p><p> </p><p>Lotte put on the most “done” sort of glare she could muster. “D-Do you even know where we are!?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nnnnnope.” Amanda had the map, but she hadn’t bothered to look at it. “I just know we’re headed west.” And west was where fate was pulling them. Lotte, of course, took no solace in that fact, and resorted to quietly moaning into her hands as she leaned back on her broom. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze rolled her eyes before peering over the edge of her broom. “We’re coming up on a town. We can figure out where we are in the morning.” None objected, and so Constanze gestured with a little head tilt for them to start flying down toward town. Lotte followed eagerly, wanting for a cozy bed to fall on, and a pillow to scream into should the need arise, while Amanda hesitated. </p><p> </p><p>Her mind wandered to what she had just said, how she was tired of gritting her teeth, tired of relying solely on spite. <em> “It got me far…. And it can get me further.” </em> She let her eyes close for those few solemn moments of reflection. <em> “But is that really enough to get me through this?”  </em></p><p>Names and faces flashed before her. Amanda was stubborn, but she wasn’t alone; she knew that now, even as the voices worked tirelessly to isolate her. Ever since they’d left Donar’s Oak, she’d been swatting at those voices with all the tools and confidence her sister and friends had given her, but it was not enough to fully best them. <em> “There’s gotta be a way to solve this shit for good.” </em> Or maybe there wasn’t. <em> “Unless Conz ain’t as fine as she says she is.” </em> Amanda considered the possibility for a short while before she did away with it. <em> “No way. That ain’t like her.” </em> Amanda herself would do something like that, and sure, Constanze was capable of it, but she wasn’t likely to be lying. <em> “So, what then?”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Amanda began to slowly descend as she thought deeper on the matter. She considered her strengths, things part of her thought didn’t truly exist until Constanze had immutably proven otherwise. <em> “I guess I’m not as much of a selfish jackass as I thought I was.” </em> She thought back to all the arguments she, Hannah, and Barbara had been through. All of the blunders and missteps she’d made with them specifically, but also with her other friends. <em> “Can’t say I ain’t trying to be a better person.” </em> Realizing her strengths was the first step, and luckily, the second step was one she’d been over time and time again. She knew her weaknesses well, both the real and imagined. They were easy to rattle off before, but hard to truly utter now that she’d built up something of an ego-edifice. It was because of that new edifice that she knew what she needed to do: <em> “I gotta put all of this positive talk bullshit into action if I ever wanna get better.” </em>Her eyes wandered to her hips; to Dyrnwyn. </p><p> </p><p>The sword’s very existence taunted her. Was she worthy? Was she pure? Was she just? Was she righteous? And from whom’s perspective was she measured? What code or creed did the blade follow? The fact that Amanda had to even ask such absurd questions was giving her a headache. <em> “Just… draw it. It’ll be easier with no one around.” </em> She shook her head a little and blinked twice. <em> “Pull it out.” </em> Her mind said one thing, but her hands did another. Her brow tightened into a determined, frustrated scowl. <em> “Pull it out like any other sword. Grab the hilt and </em> — <em> ” </em> Her hand hovered by it, but never connected. The voices giggled, snickered, and gawked from the peripheral shadows of her mind. <em> “Oh! Piss off already!” </em>Her reaching hand became a fist, and she shook her head. The voices didn’t leave, not immediately at least. They needed a bit more of a push, or rather, a tackle to be truly silenced. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda repeated phrase after phrase of reassurance to herself. She followed Constanze, Lotte, and Mrs. Jansson’s advice. Hell, even some passing comments from Nelson over the years came back to help her, and they worked. All of those things worked just as they had been working for the past few days; they pushed back the mocking vultures of her mind, but did little to really solve the problem they created, and they surely didn’t solve the issue that dangled at her hip.</p><p> </p><p><em> “I’m too tired for this.” </em> Amanda tried to tell herself whilst palming her face. <em> “I’ll… worry about it in the morning.” </em> Through the cracks in her fingers, she spotted the shaded figures of her sister and friend down below her. She estimated she was about a minute or two behind them. <em> “No big deal.” </em> She thought, quickening the pace of her descent. Speed did nothing for her though, for either her estimations were wrong, or those two minutes were the longest ones she’d ever experienced in her entire life. That damnable, wretched weight on her right hip, Dyrnwyn, it mocked her with every jingle. She tried to block it, humming a tune to some forgettable radio song to herself before giving up about ten seconds in. She tried tapping at the floor, only to remember she was airborne, and resorted to wringing her hands around her broom-shaft instead. <em> “Just need to… get some sleep.” </em>She tried to focus on something, anything, but there was nothing up here but the wind, the sky, and those blades at her sides. Their burden remained.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda didn’t know how long she ended up staring at it, or when she even started, but she knew for sure that the whole “worry about it tomorrow” plan was slowly being tossed out the window. <em> “Why…?” </em> She asked the stars, whilst struggling to keep her right hand from drifting toward the blade. <em> “Why can’t I do this?” </em> Where her right hand trembled with conflicting desire for action and inaction, her left hand twitched as if she hadn’t insulted herself enough. What coping mechanisms she knew and trusted couldn’t help her here. No helpful ones at least. She went to her “tried and true” form of escape instead: Booze. Booze she realized a half moment later that she didn’t have; booze she wasn’t about to buy in the town below. Booze that wouldn’t make the pain really go away, or give her the courage to actually do what she found herself now incapable of doing. The fact that she had even reached for her flask made her want to slap herself, a desire she thankfully managed to suppress. She’d sworn to herself that her last round was at the Janssons, and she wasn’t about to go back on it. </p><p> </p><p>She asked a question meant for the Balefire within her: “Honestly, why the hell did you even pick me?” Amanda spoke to the air with depression hanging on every drolly uttered word. “I can’t even draw the damn sword that we came all this way fix, and you want <em> me </em> , that same trainwreck, to rebuild your order?” Amanda thought back to her talks with Constanze and Maxwell. The former’s explanation of trust back at Donar’s Oak, it still warmed Amanda’s heart, but Maxwell’s admission? His trust seemed to be given without merit now. Amanda remembered his wisdom from down in the armory when she first laid eyes on Dyrnwyn and Carnwennan, but it all felt kind of hollow now. <em> “Even if Jehanne picking me meant something, I still end up tripping when push comes to shove. Maybe that third trial was bullshit from the start, and yeah, maybe we would’ve just gotten interrupted before it ended, but…. But if this is all meant to mean something, if those Nine hags are supposed to be all about tradition, and that trial was all tradition…. Then that means I really don’t deserve this sword, their trust, any of it!” </em> Maybe Jehanne was listening too. Amanda kind of hoped she wasn’t. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda palmed her face briefly. “Man…” She let her grip  on the broom ease, channelling her anxious physical energy into speech. “What <em> are </em> you even?” Her eyes fell to her chest as she laid one hand upon her left breast. It felt warm, unnaturally so. The wind was biting, she should be freezing. “To resist the course of wickedness, or whatever.” That was what the Balefire’s purpose was, according to Jehanne. “But what the hell <em> are </em>you!? Are you even alive?” Of course, the fire could not respond. “Tch. They certainly talked like you are.” Maxwell, Asgall, Jehanne, all of them gave their perspectives on what the Balefire “was,” but it all felt like poetic, mushy nonsense to Amanda. </p><p> </p><p>“Bah….” Amanda shook her head and grumbled, her expression now wrought with beleaguered annoyance. <em> “If only you were. It’d sure as hell make my job easier.” </em> Her mind started to feel fuzzy, as if her thoughts were being drowned out by static. That annoyance quickly turned to entitled cynicism as the static fermented. <em> “As if anything that actually matters to me gets to be easy.” </em> Then to absurd pessimism as the grating static took root. <em> “Can’t even draw a freakin’ sword…. Could you get any lower, Amanda?” </em> On and on her dissociative spiral went, to no useful end. <em> “Maybe you’ll somehow survive this and STILL manage to fuck up all the promises you made along the way.” </em> Until, finally, Amanda unwittingly forced her formerly racing thoughts to cease. <em> “Agh! To hell with it!” </em> Everything went blank <em> “I don’t got the fuckin’ energy to deal with this right now.” </em>An unwelcome sort of peace fell over her, uncomfortable and dull.</p><p> </p><p>This wasn’t the “peace” that Jehanne spoke of, though it did “rule her mind.” It was a prickly sort of haze, the kind that made everything look and feel the same. It blanked Amanda’s mind and made her expression and voice go flat. It further doused her already weakening flame. She dissociated down into the town, meeting up with Constanze and Lotte by a homely, but otherwise unremarkable hostel. She was asked questions that she forgot a moment after answering them; likely something about what took her so long. They paid her hollow answers no mind, not that they had energy to interrogate her. All and more could be pursued come the morrow, and the following days. </p><p> </p><p>The final length of their journey lay ahead of them. Porthcurno awaited. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>The morning had come and went, and the triumvirate witches had almost missed it entirely. Constanze was the only one who truly slept well, and obliged to prepare brunch meals for the other two. Lotte was, understandably, still quite uneased by everything she’d witnessed. Deep down, all night, and now all morning, she’d been going back and forth on whether or not she really should have listened to Constanze’s warning and stayed back. That mental gridlock had made her night more restless than she would have liked. However, she wasn’t crippled by it. Denial and distraction were powerful tools when first encountering such trauma, even if their long term uses were extremely dubious. With that in mind, it was fair to say that Lotte wasn’t doing as bad as Amanda, even if Amanda was much better at hiding it. </p><p> </p><p>That prickly sort of static still malingered about her. It made her feel and act a little sluggish, and turned anything she didn’t give her full attention to into more unremarkable static. The last thing she cognizantly remembered was a call from Constanze to try and figure out their flight path for the day, and it was Lotte’s voice that properly breached the static, dispersing it to a degree. “Dolmen of Wéris?” Lotte had never heard of that place. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmm?” Neither had Constanze. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Amanda was holding the map down on the dining table of the humdrum hostel the group had awoken in. “It’s an old burial site with a leyline portal that connects to another tomb in south England. I think it’s called Sutton Hoo.” She stood smack dab in the center of their crowd around the table, with Constanze on her left, and Lotte on her right. “I’ve used it a few times before when I was flying in from the east and didn’t feel like going up north to take the route we usually take to get to Finland.” A large red X marked the south-eastern region of Belgium where their first stop, The Dolmen of Wéris, was located. “It’s not that far from here, maybe five hours tops if the wind is bad.” Her tone was strangely flat, but no one had noticed. The static still muddied her mind. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmm….” Constanze rubbed at her chin, trying to plot a better course. Sadly, her knowledge of the area's leylines was terribly limited. Home country or not, she knew seldom about its magical geography. Her eyes wandered to the clock on the wall just above and in front of them. “Ten hundred hours….” They all wish they'd slept longer, and for good reason. “Won’t make it to Porthcurno before midnight.” Assuming the worst, which at this point, Constanze was. </p><p> </p><p>Lotte sipped at her coffee before offering her thoughts. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tch. It better not be.” Said Amanda, wanting nothing more than for this to be over; for everything to be over, in a way.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze brought her chin rubbing hand to form a first in front of her mouth. She hummed cautiously before writing out a quick note on a part of the map they didn’t care for. “I’m not worried about the travel itself. I’m worried that we’ll be too late.”</p><p> </p><p>“T-Too late for what?” Lotte could only imagine what could go wrong. </p><p> </p><p>“Too late to make sure there’s a town to even rally at.” Unfortunately, Constanze didn’t have to imagine what the Bathorys were capable of.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda jabbed a finger down on the table twice, in rhythm with her objection. “Hell, no, we are <em> not </em>showing up at a ruined fucking town.” She sounded genuinely mad about that even being a possibility; it was the most energy she’d put into any statement since she woke up.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze would be mad about it too, if it weren’t for her modus operandi: “Prepare for the worst. Hope for the best.” Amanda’s jabbing hand fell flat as she slumped into the chair behind her. She had everything to say in theory, but nothing to say in practice. Constanze regarded her with a slight bit of concern, though she brushed it off as Amanda being tired given they all were. “We should leave in an hour.” Constanze had written out that last statement, and circled it for good measure before pointing her pen up at the clock; they’d depart at noon.</p><p> </p><p>“Ok... I’ll make sure our luggage is all in order.” Lotte shuffled off, looking for any excuse to keep herself busy, while Amanda let her head hang over the back of her chair. Her arms were slack by her sides, and she stared pointlessly at the ceiling. A constant, disappointed frown marred her face. </p><p> </p><p>It made Constanze’s “down to business” expression soften. She offered a gentle hand against Amanda’s shoulder and neck, and squeezed it firmly when Amanda didn’t object. They shared no words for some time, and while Constanze looked about in various directions, Amanda’s gaze was ever skyward. She wasn’t even thinking of anything, really. She was, but it all just came back garbled, as if put through a jammed, overflowing printer, and then spat back out, drenched in enough ink to write a doctoral thesis. Mud seemed clear as water compared to Amanda’s train of thought. That said, her thoughts were surprisingly consistent. Sure, they made no sense half of the time, as if the sentences were jumbled up, but they were all focused on the same things which had been haunting her ever since this began, ever since she left “home” for Luna Nova and started her new life. The only things that were “new” were the fact that now her doubt was possibly keeping her from saving lives, from living up to promises she’d made not just to friends and loved ones, but to one of The Nine Olde Witches! This malaise, this mental quagmire, it was unbecoming of a leader, of someone who bore the flame of the first Balefire! It sickened her! Why did she have to be entrusted with all of this <em> here </em> and <em> now </em> ? Why did she have to start spiralling down this existential rabbit hole <em> just </em> as this fresh, vampiric hell fell upon the world? Could fate be more cruel with its timing? <em> “Sure is fucking convenient.” </em> And now she knew why Constanze had started to resent that word. <em> “Maybe I ain’t worth all of this, or maybe I am, but god damn if this ain’t the worst time to figure that out.” </em> </p><p> </p><p>Instinctively, Constanze squeezed Amanda’s shoulder again. Her sister’s hand was cold, but comforting. She welcomed its tingling touch, for it was one of few things to pierce that miasmal fog of static that numbed the rest of her senses. <em> “Even with her trust, I still can’t seem to get over myself.” </em> Constanze had proven their sisterly bond true, and vice versa, but here Amanda sat, still mired in her woes. <em> “To think I could actually get MORE unsure of myself…. And that’s AFTER we got the stupid swords!” </em> Amanda bit the inside of her cheek and scowled at the air above her.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze pulled up a chair then and sat down before she reached down and brought Amanda’s hands to her own lap where Constanze held them firmly. She could tell that Amanda was “dealing with her own shit,” and while she knew she could contribute no further to the conversation, she also knew that small gestures such as this could go a long way.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda appreciated it in silence as her stream of consciousness went on: She thought of her self-spoken oaths to see them all through this, to give Elizabeth and all her kith and kin the Amanda O’Neill special: A thorough asskicking. <em> “Who the hell was I kiddin’ back there? I still got no idea if I deserve this pain-in-the-ass responsibility, this stupid fucking sword, or this… this stupid fucking fire!” </em> Trust from without hadn’t changed that fact. <em> “So what will!?” </em></p><p> </p><p>She thought of everything, or at least, Amanda liked to think she had. To her, it all came down to martial skill, and that included her ability to keep a cool, level head in the thick of a fight. It was that lack of skill which she believed saw her lose to Asgall, made her unable to save Hannah and Barbara from the plant creature, and got her in hot water a thousand times before while she was wandering the world. She wasn’t usually someone to get caught up on something like this, ironically enough. She remembered back to before they had entered the sanctum, when she was practicing after the run in with those damnable hyenas and harpies on the fateful night of their imprisonment. She knew she had to get better, get stronger, physically and mentally, and she went to work to immediately do just that! She practiced and practiced until she nearly had a tree fall on her, and when push came to shove against that skeletal hunter of the order, she won! The fruits of her labor were clear…. That is, up until that fire decided to leap right off of its brazier and down into her heart where it now resided. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda’s mind fixated on the fire once more. Her eyes closed, and she imagined it within her. She saw it grow and grow, burgeon and billow, right up through the ceremonial passing of legacies down from Olde to New. That’s when the fire stopped growing. <em> “Ever since that night…. Ever since we lost that trial…. I feel like you’ve been dying on me.” </em> No matter how much hot air she blew, that flame in her breast was smoldering, waning. <em> “It’s like…. It’s like it’s… mimicking me.” </em> The imagined fire, weak as it was, flickered in concert with the beating of her heart. Such understanding gave her no solace though. If anything, it dug her deeper into despair. <em> “I’m never gonna burn like you want me to, am I?” </em> The fire shrunk with every assertion of doubt. <em> “So much for keepin’ my promises….” </em>Yet Jehanne’s disappointment was the least of her worries. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda’s eyes slowly opened, and her head turned to her left. Constanze was still with her, dutifully, lovingly. Amanda squeezed back, and she earned a reassuring smile in return. It was a comforting sight, but it was haunted by the black visage of the box marked by the Y Draig Goch; Dyrnwyn and Carnwennan loomed ever over her. She met the “eyes” of the box, fixating on it critically, all while hiding her expression behind a dull veneer of apathy. <em> “You know what…?” </em> The static started to buzz a little louder. <em> “Maybe I don’t need both swords.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Carnwennan was a marvelous blade on it’s own, after all: The ability to teleport to wherever it was flung? How could Dyrnwyn compare? It was merely a blade which burned, something plenty of likely much less historied enchanted swords could do with ease. If anything, Dyrnwyn seemed like a <em> downgrade </em> from a bog standard sword enchanted with the powers of fire. Nine forbid that the wielder drew it with the best of intentions, only for the blade to assume otherwise and burn them alive! The deck was stacked against it, and Amanda wasn’t about to bet on a losing hand. <em> “I’ll win this fight without it if I have to.” </em> Her “ol’ reliable,” spite, pushed her through this haze, away from the heart of her problem. <em> “And you know what else?” </em> Away from the very fire in her heart. <em> “I don’t think I need you either!” </em> She yelled in her own mind as though she were fighting off the static. <em> “All we have to do is save the school and beat those bastards back. Damn everything else! All it’s done is make me second guess what I was doing fine at before things got weird!” </em> But a retreat was still a retreat, even when done in anger. <em> “ I’ve got my friends! My sister! I don’t need this fire’s approval to win this fight!” </em> And so the fire ceased its shrinking…. <em> “What I need is to get my head out of my ass, and get a grip! Fuck this flame, and fuck the order! They can wait!” </em>Though it did not grow either.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze quirked her head and raised a brow as she saw Amanda’s expression become one of mild fury. “Mmmmm?” She grunted. <em> “Are you ok?” </em></p><p> </p><p>Her concern never breached the fading miasma of static. <em> “I need to stop moping and start practicing!” </em> But a random town in western Germany was surely <em> not </em> the place to practice her sword play. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze leaned back. “Amanda…?” She was starting to look a little intense.</p><p> </p><p><em> “No more games! No more mystical old nonsense! No more faking it until I make it! I’m gonna rise to the occasion for real this time!” </em>With confidence, fake or not, came clarity. </p><p> </p><p> “Amanda.” Constanze tried to shake her a bit. “What’s wrong?” And with clarity came sensation; her dissociation ceased. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda’s vision suddenly focused on the foreground rather than the box in the background. She blinked and felt her throat catch with words. She stopped to clear her throat, turning her head up and aside as she straightened her posture. She only responded when she was able to meet Constanze’s gaze again. “What did you say?” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze pursed her lips cautiously. “You seem… mad.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda blinked. “You didn’t say that.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze had to do a double take. “Wait, so you <em> did </em> hear me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Huh?” Amanda cocked her head before tensing up a little as she floundered to explain herself. “Yeah, yeah, I heard you, sorry. I’ve just been really distracted ever since last night.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmmhmmm….” Constanze could tell. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m ok now, honestly.” Somewhat of a lie, but not a full one at least. “Like I said: I’m dealing with it on my own.” There was enough truth there to fool Constanze, at the least. “Thanks for being here for me though. It… it helped.” And Amanda’s sentiment was wholly genuine, further validating her initial claim. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze’s smile slowly returned at that. “I’m glad.” After all, being there was all she could ask to do now that she’d said all she had to say about Amanda’s internal woes. Constanze gestured casually to the map for Amanda to spot her message in progress. Amanda leaned over the table to read it once she was done. “Wanna get ready to go? I’m sure Lotte could use the help, and there’s no harm in leaving early.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda couldn’t be more relieved. “Hell yeah, let’s go!” The sooner they got to Porthcurno, the sooner Amanda could get to work on channelling all of that spite of hers into something productive. For a transient such as herself, this travelling business was starting to grate on her. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Six hours later…. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Constanze, Amanda, and Lotte all barrelled into the dank, musty hole that was Sutton Hoo from the bright white, black, and green portal light of the ley-line. They were broombound, but not for long. For whatever reason, the roots of Yggdrasil were quite bumpy that day, forcing the trio to endure no small amount of turbulence. The cobwebs that smacked right into Amanda’s face didn’t help either. “ACH! PFT! UGH!” She was the first out, and the first to find her face eating ancient dirt. </p><p> </p><p>“Waaauauugaugh!” Lotte came second, spinning in a circle until she managed to force her broom into a motionless hover. “Urghhh….” She quickly found herself fighting to keep her brunch down. </p><p> </p><p>Last but not least came Constanze, the only one of the three who wasn’t screaming or shouting in some way; at least not externally. Her broom sailed right over her faceplanted sister and into the wall before them. She threw up her arms and rolled off of the broom in a tuck to save herself from cracking her face against the stone, but that didn’t save her broom. It split in two as it smacked right into olde edifice, sending little splinters everywhere. What a “heroic” return to England. </p><p> </p><p>The light of the ley-line quickly faded as the portal closed, leaving them  groaning in the dark. Amanda was the first to pick herself up off the floor, and she was quick to snap her wand up from her belt once she’d gotten all of the webbing out of her face. <em> “Ugh….Luminaria.” </em> </p><p> </p><p>Constanze peeked one eye open at the sudden influx of new, brighter light. She looked down at herself and found herself dirtied, but unharmed. She sighed with relief and sat up while fumbling for her own wand. “Everyone ok?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda raised the most half hearted thumbs up. “Just peachy, sis.” Any reason to chuckle during times like these was a good reason.</p><p> </p><p>“Mmm….” At least one of them could laugh about this. “Lotte?” </p><p> </p><p>“N-N-No….” Lotte nearly choked up bile. “Oh god…!” Hadn’t she thrown up enough times for one week!? Based on her coughing and spitting that followed just after, clearly not. Amanda and Constanze both turned away to afford their Finnish friend the privacy, though it was unnecessary. Lotte’s upset stomach was mercifully quelled before anything that should have stayed down came back up. That didn’t make the awful taste in her throat go away though, and so Lotte dizzyingly fumbled for a water bottle from one of the several scattered trunks and bags they brought. She splashed her face with its contents in an attempt to wash down the traces of bile, to questionable effect. Once the bottle was emptied and her throat was soothed, Lotte wobbled off of her broom and leaned her body against a foundational stone pillar, gasping and heaving all the while. She was alive though, and that’s what mattered. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze was about to let herself and the others rest easy when a terrible crack and boom from nearby shook the mound ever so slightly. Each of the witches practically jumped out of their skin as they flailed in search of safety. They all ducked behind the various shapes that made up the cramped crypt, only for Amanda to quirk her eyebrows and peek out from her hiding spot. “Hey…. Hey, guys, hehe….” Her chuckle became a weak sort of laugh. “I think that was thunder.” Sure enough, another, more distant crackle sounded off, all but confirming her suspicion. Constanze and Lotte both joined Amanda out in the center of the room and followed her up a steep set of stairs to the mound’s entrance, and sure enough, once they creaked open the rickety wooden door, they were met by a torrential downpour. A heavy storm had rolled in; what was England and its neighboring lands without rainy weather? “Pff, to think we got all spooked because of a storm.” </p><p> </p><p>“Y-Yeah….” Lotte’s stomach was starting to settle, but her nerves certainly weren’t. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmm….” And Constanze wasn’t none to pleased with this either. “Can’t fly in this weather.” </p><p> </p><p>“Well, we could try and—”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> CRACK!  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Lightning struck a tree on a nearby hill, splitting it in two! The thunder was ferocious, and the winds merciless! </p><p> </p><p>Amanda summarily shut the door and raised a pointer finger up. “You know what, nevermind.” </p><p> </p><p>“I... c-could use a few minutes anyway.” Lotte was already shuffling her way downstairs in search of a place to sit herself down. Constanze and Amanda watched her descend before the two met eyes, shrugged, and followed after her. Once they reached the inner chamber, Amanda got to work getting some <em> real </em> lights on in the place. She snapped her fingers, alternating from left to right four times in total, and with each resounding snap, she flicked a spark toward one of the ancient torches that lined the circular room’s walls. She would regret doing so a moment later, when they took in the full breadth and depth of their surroundings.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda had explained that it was some sort of tomb, a “mound,” as it is more well known, but she also said she never saw any bodies in here; just a central sarcophagus, plain, made of stone, and rectangularly shaped. That was there, certainly, just as Amanda said it would be, and it was sealed, thank the Nine, for the odors within could likely kill an elephant, but clearly her description was lacking.</p><p> </p><p>Open air bodies, ancient and skeletal, decomposing to dust, lay in deeply stuffed shelves on all of the walls. Carvings of olde Anglo Saxon origin covered the spaces between the bodies, and some names could still be made out to identify the dead. Some small burial offerings and possessions yet remained: Swords, helms, shields, pots, tools, little boxes likely holding necklaces and the like, all undisturbed by mundane scholars and historians who, for once in the entirety of British history, respected the belongings of the dead. The place was <em> absolutely </em> filthy, and it reeked of death! It wasn’t exactly a place where one would want to wait out a storm in, or spend more than ten seconds inside of for that matter. </p><p> </p><p>After the initial shock faded in all three witches, Constanze slowly turned to face her sister. Constanze’s lips were taught, her gaze piercing and tired all at once, and her posture practically radiated disappointment. “No corpses, huh?” </p><p> </p><p>“W-W-Well, I n-n-never really uh….” Amanda did her best to evade her sister’s glare, but felt it upon her even from behind. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmmmmmmm…?” Constanze stepped closer. If she wasn’t so damnably short, she’d be looming over Amanda in a most threatening manner. <em> “So how many times did you say you were here…?” </em></p><p> </p><p>“Eheh, about that….” Twenty. She’d taken this route twenty times over the years, and yet: “I maaaaay have never turned on the lights….” </p><p> </p><p>“Schwester.”</p><p> </p><p>“Y-Yeah?” Amanda glanced back over her shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve told you you’re hopeless sometimes, right?” </p><p> </p><p>That’s when Amanda gave up the embarrassed bit and spun herself around on her boot-heels. “Ohhh come on! It’s just some skeletons! We’re about to go fight god knows what those freaks have enslaved and a shit load’a vampires, and you’re telling me we can’t handle a few bones!?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmm!” Grunted Constanze as she threw her arms down by her sides. <em> “Not the point!” </em> She fished for her pen and pad and triple underlined a reminder she quickly jotted down. “We’re trying not to traumatize Lotte any further, remember??????” The statement was practically surrounded in question marks. </p><p> </p><p>“Ohh… shit….” Amanda couldn’t have forgotten; Lotte hadn’t been herself ever since the prior night. She was quieter, withdrawn, more so than usual, that is. She jumped at just about anything that caught her off guard, and not in a gentle, soft sort of way that Lotte usually did, but in a manner of true fear, as if she was permanently in fight or flight mode. She was frozen right now, stood in place just a few feet away, nary an arm’s length from one of the bodies. Amanda and Constanze could only hope that she was alright. “L-Lotte? You alright?” Despite the lit torches, the room was still quite dim, so it was hard to see what she was looking at specifically.  She had her arms up at about waist height, as if she were holding something, and so the two sisters approached after they received no response. “Lotte?” </p><p> </p><p>For mercy, the thing in her hands was Malitrix. She, like Lotte, was staring out at the wall of bones, but what surprised both sisters the most was the absence of fear. Lotte seemed amazed in a strange sort of way, and indeed she was. She swelled with that same feeling she got back in the old templar ruins on the isle of Bornholm; the feeling that there was real, tangible history here. Memories of long dead peoples, artifacts and relics of their life, symbols that once meant something more, all things that drew her in, but things she also held no true knowledge of. She wasn’t a historian, an archeologist, a scholar, none of that; she’d been through this conversation. Lotte was Lotte, a third wheel of sorts, that’s what she’d settled on so far, but when faced with what should be harrowing, the departed and their remains, she felt a pull to <em> be </em> something more than just a third wheel, as if there was some shared energy between her and the deceased. It happened with Malitrix on more than one occasion, first when she received her as a gift from Akko, second when Malitrix spoke to her during the seance, and once more only a day ago when Malitrix promised to protect her. Now again, she felt that call of the grave, almost in sheer contradiction to the disgust she still felt from the sight of a man’s butchered body.</p><p> </p><p>“Mmm. Lotte?” </p><p> </p><p>Lotte felt a tug on her coat. “Hm?” She cocked her head to the left, then to the right, before she fully spun about. Her friends were regarding her with concern, but also confusion. She responded in kind with concern and confusion of her own. “W-What’s wrong? Did something happen?”</p><p> </p><p>“Uhh, no.” Amanda scratched the back of her head. “But that kinda just makes me worried.” </p><p> </p><p>Lotte went to adjust her glasses, “What do you me—?” Only to scramble to catch Malitrix as she dropped her. “M-Mali!” She hadn’t even realized the skull had taken up residence in her palms; when did her hands grab it? How did they know to hold it? She looked at Malitrix, asking herself all of these questions internally, before her curiosity was disrupted by Constanze’s query. </p><p> </p><p>“Are you alright?”</p><p> </p><p>“Wha—? Y-Yeah!” Lotte looked around in every direction, her anxiety rising for reasons she didn’t understand. “I’m fine! I’m just feeling weird after the flight….” The mere thought of their flight was enough to distract her from whatever hypnotic effect brought her to gaze upon the cadavers and bones so wistfully. The turbulence and nausea were one thing, but it was more than that, more than she could make sense of right now. “Like, <em> really weird. </em>” Though much of it felt like a surreal nightmare to her. </p><p> </p><p>“Mm.” Constanze looked to her sister and cocked a brow. “Is this route usually that weird?”</p><p> </p><p>“What? You mean the ley-line?” Constanze nodded, and Amanda paused to ponder on it. “No. I’ve been through here plenty of times. and it’s never been like that.” She could remember it clearly, as could Constanze and Lotte. “I’m not crazy then, right? You guys saw it too?” Constanze and Lotte nodded with concern; even Malitrix offered a singular blink in confirmation. Amanda wanted to feel relieved, but this only deepened her worries. She covered her chin and mouth, clicking her tongue once as she spoke her fears: “There was somethin’ real wrong with that ley-line.”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean?” Asked Lotte.</p><p> </p><p>“You saw those things!” Writhing black tendrils; there was no mistaking it now. They were outside of the magical highways, churning, turning, twisting. “They were thrashing the whole damn highway!” It was their tantrums that caused the turbulence. But why?</p><p> </p><p>Constanze started to pace around as she considered all of her academic teachings. “What are they, anyway?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda stuffed her hands into her jacket. “Annoying and weird as hell is what they are.”</p><p> </p><p>“Besides that, schwester.” </p><p> </p><p>Lotte set Malitrix on the central sarcophagus as she spoke up. “I don’t remember Finnelan or P-Pisces mentioning anything like that in either of their courses.” </p><p> </p><p>“As if anyone remembers what Pisces says half of the time.” Especially in <em> that </em> class. “What did she call it? Principles of Arcano-something-something?” </p><p> </p><p>“Arcano-Physics.” Corrected Constanze. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda snapped her fingers. “That’s it.” She’d only heard about it second hand from Barbara during her third year. She was one of two students to pass the course in that semester, and <em> no </em>, the other wasn’t Diana. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t remember much about it,” Especially since Lotte dropped that class half way through, since none of it made sense to her. “But I’m pretty sure that’s… not normal.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda snorted. “Doesn’t take a fish with a doctorate to figure that one out.” </p><p> </p><p>“Focus.” Chided Constanze. She held up her writing pad when she had Lotte and Amanda’s attention. “It’s out of our hands, and not related to our problems. We should—” There was more to read, but Amanda interjected before either she or Lotte could finish reading. </p><p> </p><p>She held up a singular pointer finger to her sister. “Hold up: Who said it wasn’t related?” Constanze blinked, seeming somewhat taken aback. “Think about it, Conz! Remember when we got teleported over to Lotte’s place?” Constanze lowered the pad and her gaze. She held a finger to her chin as she thought back. It was a fuzzy sort of memory, but she could recall bits of it, so she nodded. Amanda did a bit of pacing of her own, lazily wagging that knowing finger about as she did. “Remember those weird shapes we saw in the portal? It wasn’t a ley-line like the one we just went through, but it was pretty damn close, and I saw those things there too.”</p><p> </p><p>“T-The tentacles…?” Lotte stepped forward anxiously, holding her hands together by her chest. “Why didn’t you say anything?”</p><p> </p><p>“Honestly, I thought it was just part of the portal magic or something, but after what we just went through, I got no doubt in my mind:” Amanda planted her feet firm in the ground and faced the other two as she made her declaration. “Something ain’t right with the ley-lines around the UK. First we’re seeing tentacles in that portal up in Scotland, and now we’ve got ones just like ‘em nearly giving us whiplash while we’re flying inside it.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze paused as the weight of this theoretical problem weighed on her. She didn’t like it, not one bit. <em> “First Woodward and the Nine, and now this.” </em>This didn’t seem related to Woodward and the other Eight Olde Witches, but it was also suspiciously well time and localized given the course of events. “Think the Bathory’s caused it?” </p><p> </p><p>“I can’t make heads or tails of it, honestly.” Amanda pursed her lips and looked to Lotte. “I just know I don’t like it.”</p><p> </p><p>Lotte shifted awkwardly in place as she tried to muster up whatever fractured knowledge she could gather from Pisces’ course. “Well, ley-lines are the roots of Yggdrasil, sooo... maybe something is… attacking it?” That anxiety of hers could only rise so long as they stayed on this topic. “I-I don’t think it’s the Bathory’s though!” </p><p> </p><p>“Why not?” Asked Amanda. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s uh… complicated.” As most things involving Yggdrasil were. “But they’d have to have gone into the ley-line if they wanted to disrupt it somehow. Only things inside that… what did Pisces call it…?” Lotte hummed and tapped her foot frantically. “Dimension! Right! You uh, you have to be in that dimension to affect things in that dimension.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze nodded slowly. She wasn’t sure if that comforted her, or disturbed her further. She was hesitant to write out her next message. “Does that rule really rule them out? They have the help of those three witches. They could have done this.” Several other ideas were scratches out beside it; unfinished sentences and such. </p><p> </p><p>“I-I mean, it’s possible….” Lotte poked her two pointer fingers together over and over again. “B-But it should be! I mean, Luna Nova never had a ley-line portal anyway.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I guess that would make it—Wait a second… wasn’t there—”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze stopped Amanda by quickling writing up a warning and shoving it in her sister’s face: “STOP!” Was all it said. Amanda stumbled back and threw her hands up defensively. Both her and Lotte watched Constanze as she gestured to her nose and made a downward sort of motion, as if her nose was runny. Then she put both of her hands on the side of her head and mimicked a pained face. That’s what jogged their memories; this wasn’t something they wanted to talk about. </p><p> </p><p>“Ok, but <em> that </em> just makes all of this weirder! What if… whatever <em> that </em>is supposed to be,” Amanda referred to that non-existent whatever-thing with a flippant gesture. “Is exactly why the ley-lines are all screwed up now!” </p><p> </p><p>“It didn’t happen on our way to Ludinghal though.” Added Lotte. “Wouldn’t it affect every ley-line if it was something like… <em> that </em>.” She looked to Malirtix for answers, but received no response. It seemed that ley-lines weren’t exactly Malitrix’s forte. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze sighed. “Mm!” She referred back to her previous note and underlined it. “It’s out of our hands, and not related to our problems. We should focus on getting to Porthcurno and figuring out a plan for when we get there.” </p><p> </p><p>“W-What about the storm?”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze pursed her lips, looked to her broken broom in the corner of the room, and then added on to the note. “I need to fix my broom somehow. In the meantime, one of you should check the forums to see if our post gained more traction; check the news. The other should make sure we didn’t lose anything during the flight here. We’ll leave when the storm passes.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda eyed the broken remains of the broom suspiciously. “Last I checked, you weren’t a Broomsquire.” A type of witch that knew how to enchant and craft magicked brooms. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze glanced down at the hammer on her hip and considered her newfound abilities. “Mmm… don’t think I need to be.” </p><p> </p><p>“Eh?” Amanda cocked her head curiously. </p><p> </p><p>“Jehanne was the first witch to ride a broom.” Maxwell had told them as much. “She was Vaal’s sister.” Constanze took her hammer off of her belt and gripped it firmly. “Maybe she pitched the idea to Vaal, and Vaal made it happen.” A soft little smile overtook her otherwise neutral face. She didn’t mean to smile, but her forge-song was starting up again, and she just couldn’t resist its calming tune. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda widened her eyes a bit, folded her arms about her chest, and nodded. “You think so?”</p><p> </p><p>Lotte thought about it, putting the puzzle solving part of her brain to work, and smiled as well. “T-That’s not a bad theory, actually. Our brooms are just normal brooms with an enchantment, after all.” </p><p> </p><p>“Mhm.” Constanze nodded, raised her hammer up over her shoulder, and started toward her next project. “Time to test that theory.” Internally, she chuckled. <em> “Can’t believe I’m about tro try to fix a broom with a hammer.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>“T-Then I’ll check the forums!” Lotte got her wand out quick and sat herself on the edge of the sarcophagus, right next to Malitrix. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda looked between her sister and Lotte before rolling her shoulders. “Guess that means I’m on luggage duty.” And of course, the first thing to catch her eye was the blackstone box. Amanda’s casual expression quickly faded. <em> “Man…. I thought I was done worrying about you for today.” </em>Clearly not. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda sighed, looked around, and knelt down before it. She removed the top, and sure enough, Dyrnwyn and Carnwennan were just where Amanda had left them. She spitefully regarded the former, but when her eyes went to the latter, she forced herself to calm down. She took a deep breath, unclenched her jaw, and loosened her shoulders. <em> “Might as well keep you on me.” </em> She took up Carnwennan and strapped it to her belt. She quickly rose up from the ground and knocked the box closed. Her eyes scanned the rest of the room then as she put her hands to her hips. <em> “Maybe this storm ain’t so bad.” </em> Its rumbling and crackling sounded above them. <em> “Just another chance to break this bad boy in.” </em>She patted Carnwennan twice before she went to work gathering up the rest of their supplies. </p><p> </p><p>Nine willing, they wouldn’t be stuck down here for long. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><em> About ten minutes later…. </em> </p><p> </p><p>Constanze wasn’t even sure what she was doing anymore. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Clonk Clonk! Clonk Tap Clonk! Tap! Clonk Clonk! Tap Tap Clonk! Clonk Clonk Tap! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>But it seemed to be working. </p><p> </p><p>A hammer, and some broken wood. That’s all she had to work with, and somehow, smacking the broken broom to the rhythm was enough to reforge the broom! That was just a simple take on the process, of course. What Constanze was actually doing was much more intentional, more formulaic, yet freeform all at once. It was critical that not a single instrument stepped out of line; the whole “band” had to be in harmony for the process to work.  Thus, Constanze hummed along to her song, guiding her pack of tools as they danced, clanged, and clattered in the air around her to that selfsame tune. Her hammer blows, while sounding ineffective, were precisely placed at certain points along the geometries of the broken and splintered shards of wood that once made up the whole of the broom. Each “tap” and “clonk” had a purpose in binding the very atoms of the pieces together, and while they weren’t always carried out on the same two pieces until they were one, there was a hidden method to this seeming madness; a formula incomprehensible to all but Constanze herself. </p><p> </p><p>Normally, she would balk at such things. She didn’t dwell in the realm of absurdities, and that hadn’t changed. What did change was her flow, her ability to let her mind think, and her body act, all in one motion. Most would assume that, of course, the body and mind do move as one, but that would fail to account for the nanoseconds in which the neurons fired and sent the order to the muscles. This was where the art of witch-smithing was believed to hold its power in Olde times; it removed that time between seconds, allowing for an unobstructed, singularly motioned, and perfectly clear act of creation. </p><p> </p><p>Lotte was enthralled by it, so much so that she barely even reached the Vexful Hexful witchsite before her focus was entirely broken. She watched closely, as Constanze struck the final blow that fully restored her broom to perfect condition. The song ended with a delightful din, the tools all froze in the air, and then, in accordance with Constanze’s restful exhale, they swirled around in a slow tornado, a whirlpool of labouring, that saw the tools stuff themselves down back into Constanze’s pack. Only then did Constanze roll up her hammer and chains and strap them back onto her belt. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze picked up the broom and ran her fingers along it gently. Every bump, dent, and aged line was as it should be. Now came the true test. She held it squarely out, parallel to her body, and muttered the spell: <em> “Tia Freyre.” </em>She slackened her grip and pulled in on her arms slowly, and by the grace of her craft, the broom yet remained where she had held it. Constanze put her hands to her hips proudly, smiled, and nodded. “Mmmm.” It was a job well done, small or not.</p><p> </p><p> “Wow….” It’s all Lotte could really think to say. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda was quite impressed as well. “Damn fine work Conz!” She offered her sister a whistle and slow clap from atop their small pile of luggage. Constanze fluidly turned about at the sound of her sister’s applause. She brought the broom around with her by way of a relaxed gesture. The broom came around, stood up vertically beside Constanze, and bent to take a bow as Constanze did a little curtsy. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze’s smile was as wide as could be. It was just a little bit of broom repair, but it made her heart swell with joy nonetheless. She let her right hand rest upon the hammer at her hip and thought to herself. <em> “Where was this all my life?” </em> Truly, she felt like she could make just about anything work now. <em> “Note to self: Find time back with the order to try out some of my older designs.” </em>Maybe even the improbable could be realized with such power. </p><p> </p><p>“H-How did you do that?” Asked Lotte. </p><p> </p><p>“Hm?” Constanze got her head out of the clouds and regarded Lotte curiously. </p><p> </p><p>Lotte scooted closer, leaving Malitrix and her wand-display of Vexful Hexful behind on the sarcophagus. “Like, how does all of that happen? Is it something special you have to do?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ahh.” Constanze nodded before her face scrunched up a little as she searched for the words to explain it. She dismissed the broom with a gentle wave as she thought, and in that same motion, bade one of her more complex tools up from her back and into her hands so she could fiddle and stim with it. “It’s… I start with….” She clicked her tongue and shook her head to start over. “I need the song. It’s the most important piece.”</p><p> </p><p>“It sounded like…. Er… it <em> kinda </em> reminded me of….” Lotte didn’t really know how to describe it. </p><p> </p><p>“Industrial?” </p><p> </p><p>Lotte glanced at Amanda and formed a little smile as she nodded. “Yeah! It sounds like a factory, or like a really musical construction site.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda shifted her jaw to the left. “Ehh…. I mean, yeah, I guess it did sound like that.” She let her legs kick back and forth a little from atop her suitcase. “Was trying to say it sounded like industrial music.” </p><p> </p><p>Lotte stared at Amanda blankly. “That’s… a thing?” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze chuckled and moved herself over to sit beside Lotte. “I’ll show you some other time.” Weirdly enough, or perhaps not, Constanze was a fan of such music. “Speaking of songs: Question.”</p><p> </p><p>“Answer.” Amanda jumped down from the luggage pile as thunder sounded above them. She got a little pebble tossed at her for her sarcasm. “Oi!” She snickered. </p><p> </p><p>“Not asking you.” Teased Constanze. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda threw her hands up in defeat. “Fine, fine.” She strolled forward, letting her hands fall back down to her sides. She stuffed one back in her jacket, and put the other on Carnwennan. “We’re all good on our stuff by the way. I don’t think we lost anything.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good.” Said Constanze.</p><p> </p><p>“O-Oh, right!” Lotte snapped to attention and reached for her wand again. “I almost forgot to check online.” </p><p> </p><p>“No worries.” Amanda went about halfway up the short stairway to peek through the creaking door. “Storms still goin’ strong.” She called back. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm….” Constanze rolled her neck idly. “Could be worse. No immediate rush.” She brought out her own wand and went to witch-net as well. “The more time we have to wait the more help we might get.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda bit her lower lip for a moment before sighing. “Let’s hope that’s how this works.” Lightning flashed from beyond the door in some distant portion of the sky. Amanda’s eyes drifted down to the hand she had on Carnwennan. <em> “Can’t fly in this weather.” </em> She gripped the hilt and unsheathed it slowly. <em> “A little rain never hurt though.” </em>She looked back at Lotte and Constanze. “Hey.” Constanze and Lotte peered out from behind their displays. Amanda tilted her head toward the door. “I’ll be outside practicing with Carnwennan, ok?” </p><p> </p><p>“Mm.” Constanze gave a thumbs up.</p><p> </p><p>“But w-what about the storm?” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda tapped Carnwennan’s bladed tip gently to her forehead. “It’ll make things more challenging: Just what I need.” Her cocksure grin had returned.</p><p> </p><p>Lotte sighed and shrugged. “Ok, if you say so….” Amanda started up toward the door, but before she could reach it, Lotte called out to her. “W-Wait! Amanda!” Amanda peered down from one of the higher steps, showing just a bit of her face. “What about Dyrnwyn?” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda gulped back her fears. She did her best to play it cool. “I’d rather uh, get used to the whole teleporting and casting thing before I try and do it with a second sword.” </p><p> </p><p>Luckily for her, Constanze was convinced, as was Lotte, though the former had another thing to remind her of. “Mmmm.” She used her wand to will the daggered, silver gauntlet out from her pack of equipment. It floated over toward Amanda, only for her to wave her hand at it dismissively. </p><p> </p><p>“You keep that. You could use it more than me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mm mmm?” Grunted Constanze. <em> “You sure?” </em></p><p> </p><p>Amanda stepped back, turned about, and twirled Carnwennan in her hands. “Well, when you’ve got a knife that already lets you teleport to it, it’s kinda redundant to have something that pulls you to your knife, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Good point.” The bracelet was retracted and dropped into Constanze’s hand. She regarded it quizzically. “Going to need to make adjustments.” Daggers weren’t her sort of thing. “I’ll worry about that in Porthcurno.” She tossed it back toward her pack as her mind wandered a little. She thought of her blaster, and of the hookshot attachment on it. Then she thought of what else she could snap onto the underbarrel of her rifle. “Hmmm….” If she recalled correctly, vampires couldn’t easily regenerate from wounds caused by flame or arcane sources. <em> “Note to self: Find gasoline.” </em>She’d need it for her prototypes. </p><p> </p><p>By then, Amanda had given a little waved, turned about, and made her way up and out of the mound. She fused her weapon and wand together with a word and disappeared from the doorway in a little puff of black smoke as she cast forth Carnwennan to the downpour before her. The wind shut the door for her, sounding her exit. </p><p> </p><p>With that, Constanze and Lotte both turned their focus back to the floating, arcane screens. “How’s the thread looking?” Asked the former as she started searching for news streams and channels to pull up. </p><p> </p><p>“One second.” Lotte hesitated as she moved her wand about in search of the right tab and directory. Eventually, she found herself on their thread and began to scan through the most recent updates. Her eyes slowly widened with every post she scrolled past. “Uhh, Constanze?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmm?” The witch-smith glanced over at Lotte’s screen. She followed along as Lotte started from the point at which Lotte posted their video last night, down to the most recent post; there were about forty or so new posts in between those two points. Note said a word as Lotte started from the top again. They read through each post individually, their hope growing with each passing one:</p><p> </p><p><em> “This can’t be doctored. No way.” </em> One commenter from Ireland said. <em> “Either you’re all a bunch of mad-lads, or this is real. If this is a hoax when I get to Porthcurno, someone’s getting their arse kicked, and it ain’t me.”  </em></p><p> </p><p><em> “Is that speartips logo?” </em> Indeed it was. Some were marked in the footage; they could be spotted on close examination. <em> “You know what, mad respect.” </em> One commenter was back; the one from New York City. <em> “I was sure this was some dumb shit, but after that? There’s no way. I’m with the guy above me. Either you’re fucking crazy, or this is worse than I thought.” </em> He seemed to have changed his tune. <em> “I can’t come, but I got a friend who was doing a winter semester over in Spain. I got no idea if he can come help, but he’s in with a bunch of witches from around the area. Maybe they can come help. In the meantime, I’ll spread this around as best I can.” </em> The comment just below that was actually from the same person; it continued the sentiment. <em> “BTW, I can tell that the one with the pink hair is definitely from Texas. When you’re done with all this crazy shit overseas, why don’t you bring this Balefire thing back over to the states? Lord knows we could use a strong org who’s actually trying to help people. Especially with these Speartip goons and the rest of the pigs stomping around. Oh, and if you come by NYC, you can be sure you’ll get at least one new member.”  </em></p><p> </p><p><em> “ME AND MY BOYS FROM CHESTER GOT YOUR BACK!” </em> A witch from Winchester in England replied. <em> “THE TOWNS COCKED UP, UNI AND EVERYTHING ELSE, AND WE AIN’T ABOUT TO LET THESE WANKERS GET AWAY WITH IT. WANDS AND BATS OUT LADS! WE GOT BITERS TO BEAT!” </em>Either they were football hooligans, or the poster was a little more than tipsy. Nonetheless, their help would be welcomed. </p><p> </p><p><em> “My coven’s head just agreed,” </em> A Parisian poster wrote. <em> “We’ll be heading out for Porthcurno tomorrow morning. The Sisters of Starfall are with you. We won’t allow the school that raised us to fall.”  </em></p><p> </p><p><em> “Second that!” </em> A poster all the way from China agreed, specifically with the posted from NYC. <em> “I’ll be there in a few days. Everyone I know will hear about this. Hoping for the best!” </em></p><p> </p><p><em> “The Balefire’s back!? THE Balefire!?” </em> A Czechian posted said. <em> “Me and my tutor were JUST about to search for one of their holds. We weren’t even sure if they were real! She’ll be over the moon when she hears this!” </em>Maybe they were coming, maybe they weren’t, but their sentiment spoke to a greater wonder: The memory of The Balefire was being revived, sparking anew in the hearts of men and Fae alike. </p><p> </p><p>Speaking of Fae: <em> “I just got sent this link by a human friend.” </em> They were an anonymous poster, but they denoted themselves as a Fae with a little circle beside their anonymous nametag. It was red, grey, green, and swampy blue, all split up into four colors. <em> “One of my oldest companions still works at Luna Nova. I can’t sit by and not know if he’s ok. I’m coming. I’m coming, and every single Wyld Fae that I’ve been travelling with is coming with me. We’re tired of being turned away at every town we visit. It’s time we joined up with people who’ll recognize us for what we are.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Comrades in arms, swelling from around the world with righteous anger, rising to the occasion. On and on the thread went, with folks and Fae ranging from South Africa to but a stone’s throw away from Porthcurno responding. There were around forty new responses when Lotte first opened the page, but curiosity tickled her, and so she refreshed it. Now it was at fifty, and more than sixty percent of them stated clearly that they would spread the word. More would come, the news would reach less obscure platforms, and eventually the more public facing media.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>That fact alone had Constanze’s hands racing to type in five different searches at once, all aimed at the major networks of varying nations and regions. Her display fractured into five different panels, all like floating, holographic glass, each showing a different set of headlines and stories. Her smile, one which unknowingly spread wide across her face, dampened with every headline she read. They were as follows:</p><p> </p><p><em>Spanish, French, and British Navy Vessels Mobilize on The English Channel. </em>Reported a more general EU news publication.</p><p> </p><p><em> Holdouts In Times of Crisis: Porthcurno, Southampton, and Brighton Weather The Anomalous Storm. </em>Wrote a “middle of the road” English newspaper. </p><p> </p><p><em> Witches And Fae on the Frontlines: When Our Nation Abandons Us, was </em>published by a more witch-sympathetic paper. </p><p> </p><p><em> MP Oliver Backwell’s Call for Vote of No Confidence over “...Near criminal neglect of the magical threat </em> … <em> ” Gains Steam </em>. Was the headline of The Daily Mail. </p><p> </p><p>And last, but soberingly not least, a French paper wrote: <em> Death Toll Nearing Two Thousand in Just ThreeDays: Towns Abandoned, Hospitals Flooded With Injured.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“Mmmmm.” Each headline demanded further investigation. Constanze whipped and tapped away with her wands and fingers respectively. The shards of the display enlarged, ballooning out into a formation that encompassed both her and Lotte, who wasted no time in scouring them for intel. Some notable tidbits were as follows: </p><p> </p><p>The first article offered a hopeful vision, at least, in regard to those who did not know of what was really going on: <em> “Through a combined naval effort, military leaders from all three cooperating nations are expecting a ‘complete and total victory’ over whatever it is they discover to be causing such outlandish and strange assaults.” </em> That same news put cannonballs in the throats of Lotte and Constanze though.</p><p> </p><p>The fourth article only deadened them further: <em> “Oliver Blackwell’s motion of no confidence is likely to pass based on the swelling public outcry, the general loss of law and order in our fair cities, and the combined ineptitude and silence on the matter by the current majority in the house. MP Blackwell assured the public, in that same fiery speech where he called for this vote, that he and his associates would take ‘drastic measures’ to contain the ‘magical plague that has gripped our nation.’” </em> It seemed that Louis Blackwell’s father, despite his downfall in the political world after the <em> Noir Rod </em> incident, was making quite the reactionary comeback, and this time, he had <em> plenty </em> of support to do what he claimed he would. </p><p> </p><p>“Mein gott….” Constanze didn’t even want to imagine what such a political shift could entail. Luna Nova’s existence was already threatened in the present, and the professors had made it clear in the past that England wasn’t all too pleased with the academies continued operation. Now, in the face of a catastrophe that placed probable blame squarely on Luna Nova, how would the academy, and any who attended or taught at it, be expected to live as they did even if the Bathorys were bested?</p><p> </p><p>The fifth article was the nail in the coffin, so to speak: <em> “This number, by admission of various government and third party organizations in collaboration, is only an estimation. Exact numbers may ‘never be obtainable’ given the chaotic nature of this crisis. While certainly not the most deadly of disasters, officials around the world all echo the same general idea: Terror grips us all as the threat of the anomalous world bears down on us.” </em></p><p> </p><p>“So many dead….” It made Lotte sick, made her feel like she did back in Ludinghal.</p><p> </p><p>Speaking of: <em> “Ludinghal, and the attacks gripping Southern England and Northern France are just the beginning of something ‘far worse,’ says US President Ross Gallagher.” </em> The fifth article continued: <em> “As a result, more and more nations vow to join the tentatively named ‘Spearforce Initiative,’ whose primary goal and objective is to ‘understand and contain anomalous individuals, entities, and events, in the interest of public safety, and international security,’ by admission of the current project head and CEO of Speartip Security: Arno Siegler.”  </em></p><p> </p><p><em> “Bastards!” </em>Constanze would never forgive them for what they were doing to Ludinghal, even if Constanze could hardly tell what their objective was: She just knew it was… wrong, somehow, and this “Spearforce Initiative” wreaked of that self-same wrongness. </p><p> </p><p>The second and third articles, for mercy, gave hope where none seemed to remain. <em> “Porthcurno seems to remain inhabited despite its distance from safer population centers, and proximity to what some are theorizing as the epicenter of this epidemic. Some have claimed that Porthcurno itself is actually the source of these attacks, though photographs and videos taken by drones and airforce pilots alike show a different story: Porthcurno is on the defensive, aided by a number of anomalous individuals.” </em> Below this quote was an image of broom riding witches and winged abominations battling it out over the streets of Porthcurno. It looked more fortified than when Amanda and Constanze had left it. On the second article went: <em> “The highways and roads that allow for easy transport throughout the south remain unsafe to travel along though, as attacks continue to threaten civilians, and disrupt attempts by Army Reserve forces from establishing containment and evacuation procedures any further west or south from Reading.” </em>It wasn’t perfect news, but the fact that Porthcurno not only yet remained, but was further defended by witches unknown to the triumvirate gave them the assurance they needed to read on. </p><p> </p><p>The third article, an op-end, only fed into that swelling hope further: <em> “Witches and Fae throughout the countryside are rallying to the call: They won’t let their homes be ruined, and they are by no means part of some grand conspiracy to destroy the modern way of life.” </em> Images of witches and Fae providing aid to various mundane folks, working in tandem with them to repair ruined buildings and clean up after battles, dotted the article. <em> “This world is theirs just as much as it is ours, and if that wasn’t obvious before, they’re making it obvious now. Don’t be fooled: This isn’t a magical problem, or a magical plot, it’s a problem of our world, and we’ll overcome it together, united as the peoples of this world.” </em> It was touching, no doubt, to all the people reading it from the comfort of their homes, but it was more than relieving to Lotte and Constanze. </p><p> </p><p>Both of them were floored. They had been struck by such conflictingly good and bad news that to either despair or celebrate felt off tone. They could only look to one another and work out the answers to  this mountain of newly raised questions. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze went first, having scribbled something out so fast it took Lotte a few tries to understand it: “Who are the witches at Porthcurno?”</p><p> </p><p>“I-I don’t know!” Lotte reread pieces of the article that discussed it in search of further details, but none existed. </p><p> </p><p>“From the thread?”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s impossible.” Lotte briefly glanced over at the thread. “The timestamps are too early. Almost all of these are from this morning!” Then she looked at the dates for the articles. “But these ones are two days old!” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze sucked in her lips, feeling frayed between anxiety and eagerness. “Do you think people came without saying they’d come?” If she wrote any harder, she’d risk breaking a hole in the paper. </p><p> </p><p>Lotte hummed impatiently as she scrolled down and around to different articles and pages in search of anything that could help them parse this out. “It’s possible, but….” But why wouldn’t they say so? “Maybe they’re local; maybe we had more help than we thought we did.” The thought brought a smile to her face. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze remained mixed though. “What about the navys?” </p><p> </p><p>“I….” Lotte bit her tongue. “M-Maybe they’ll be able to help us to? Wouldn’t it make sense?” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze hummed annoyedly. She wished it was that simple. “Mm-mm.” She shook her head. </p><p> </p><p>“W-Why not?”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze pointed to the article that spoke of Oliver Blackwell and his gambit in parliament. “Because they’re the ones calling the shots.” She said aloud. “If not them, people like them.” Her finger drifted over to the fifth article. </p><p> </p><p>“But why!?” Lotte threw her arms down to her lap in a fit. She looked frustrated beyond belief. “What have witches done to deserve this!? All I’ve ever seen any witch do is help people, and, and, and m-maybe sometimes things get weird, or there’s a prank, but w-whatever! We’re not some… some….” The words escaped her. She held her head by her temples. “I just don’t get it, Constanze. We’re trying to solve this problem, but either no one seems to believe it, or they don’t care!” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze fell silent. There were no answers that immediately came to them. Whatever motives drove the powers that be were either too complex to parse, or so basely instinctual and uncaring as to be alien and uthinkable to any with an inkling of compassion within them. “It doesn’t matter.” She said whilst shaking her head. “We just need to get there before them. Need to stop this, save the academy, and… and….” And then what? <em> “ </em> <em> Scheiße </em> <em> .” </em>The possibilities flashed before her eyes:</p><p> </p><p> What would they do if the militant forces discovered Luna Nova, and deemed it to <em> technically </em> be the source of the problem? Would they bombard it from their ships? From the air? Launch a land based assault? Or, perhaps in the most cruelly ironic way, utilize a missile to neutralize the threat? Every option spelt a likely end for the Bathorys, but an equally assured death for every witch on the island. Even an operation conducted by troops on the ground was likely to result in countless undue arrests, “friendly,” or perhaps, unfriendly fire, and a scandal of confusion that could take decades just to unravel the true timeline of events. And those outcomes only considered a “failure” on Constanze, Amanda, and Lotte’s part to get their allies mobilized before the matter was unravelled; it spoke to nothing of what would or could happen even if they succeeded. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze could see it clearly, as clearly as she could see the headlines before her very eyes: Luna Nova’s professors accused of taking part in a terror plot; that would be one of the worst outcomes. The most likely, almost assuredly, was the legal dismantling of the academy itself. Luna Nova was already on thin ice, and this was no doubt doomed to sink them, regardless of the outcome. The academy would be barred from practice, seized by the British government, and likely demolished. All of their efforts, every witch and Fae who fought and bled and struggled to save the school and all who attended it, would be made all the less significant. Sure, they might save lives, and even one life saved would make it worth the effort, but the spirit is weak, and the morales of witches and Fae worldwide would no doubt be dampened, if not crushed by the news of the academies end, to say nothing of what it would mean for other institutions and individuals who taught magic. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Where the hell do we go from there?” </em>A rhetorical question, but a necessary one. A reckoning which couldn’t be postponed forever. </p><p> </p><p>Lotte blinked. “Constanze?” She looked off to where Constanze was and saw nothing. </p><p> </p><p>“Hmm?” Constanze flicked her gaze downward to meet Lotte’s own. </p><p> </p><p>“You were saying something?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmm….” How long did Constanze space out? She wasn’t sure. All of those possibilities, those nightmare realities that may indeed await them, they all came at her so fast. “Nevermind.” She needed to disregard them for now. Hope was a rarity already, and Constanze had a feeling that Lotte was more “fragile” than herself or Amanda. <em> “Better to keep quiet.” </em>A lie by omission, but perhaps a necessary one. “Need to focus. We can worry about the military when we’re at Porthcurno.” She read over the article that mentioned them just to be sure. “Here,” She pointed to one line in particular. “Says it could take several days.” </p><p> </p><p>“B-But that was posted <em> several days </em> ago!” </p><p> </p><p>“Vague wording.” Constanze refused to let those seeds of doubt even be sown. “Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.” </p><p> </p><p>Lotte sighed in acceptance. “I guess we’ll have to…. But what should we do now?” Thunder roared in the distance, reminding them of their predicament. “B-Besides wait for the storm to pass.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze hummed thoughtfully. She slowly wrote out a message, working out the words as she went, scratching out mistakes here and there. “Spread the word about the witches already at Porthcurno,” Read the first half of the note. “Might convince others to come. Strength in numbers.” Both in mind and body. </p><p> </p><p>Lotte felt she should have been more enthusiastic to do what she was good at, “Ok….” But it all just came out in a “blah” sort of tone. “Simple enough.” Too simple; so much so that any of them could have done it. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze mistook Lotte’s disappointment for emotional weariness. “We’ll be ok.” She said as she held her left thumb up. “Trust them.” </p><p> </p><p>“I-It’s not that I don’t trust them, or you guys.” Lotte shook her head slowly. “I’m still worried about the battle….” Then she turned to look at her display and began typing up a response, doing her best not to come off as half-hearted. “But not as much anymore.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze held up her notepad at about chest height, tapping at the newest note. “Worried about what happens after?” </p><p> </p><p>“Kind of….” But not really. “It’s something else. Something….” Her eyes saw through the holo-like display, and instead focused on the remains of the ancient dead beyond it. The dead stared back, or rather, one of the skulls just happened to be looking her way. For once, that skull wasn’t Malitrix. “Y-You don’t need to worry about it.” Lotte forced herself to refocus on the task she’d been given, at least for now. “But um… would you care if I….” Words failed her as confidence waned. “Nevermind.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze raised a brow. “Care if you what?” She asked aloud, setting aside her pen and pad. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry about it.” Lotte’s words dripped from her lips in a sigh. She otherwise busied herself by tapping away at her post. “It’s not important.” She wasn’t sure if much about her was, but even considering that felt like a slight of selfishness against her friends. It made her bite her cheek. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze slanted her lips leftward. “Hmm.” She wasn’t about to let it go so easily, no matter how much Lotte buried her woes. Her own hands went to work writing out a quick message; the sound of scribbling caught Lotte’s brief attention. “Whenever you’re done with that, do whatever you want to. I won’t mind.”  </p><p> </p><p> Lotte’s typing slowed to a crawl. “R-Really? You’re… ok with it?” She almost looked surprised.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze nodded slowly, writing out a second note. “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s not like we have much else to do.” Then she added an addendum. “Why are you worried?”</p><p> </p><p>“Worried?” Lotte hadn’t even realized just how tense all of her muscles were, or how apprehensive her posture was, until Constanze pointed it out. She hastily tried to relax all of those things, only to make herself look more panicked in a hoaky attempt to appear calm. “Oh, umm… I…. I didn’t want to bother you… is all.” Lotte wanted to smack her head against the wall. <em>“Quit talking like a kid! You’re twenty-two for Nine’s sake!” </em>She fruitlessly yelled at herself from within. Her uncomfortable shifting was ceaseless. “I…. I was trying to….” </p><p> </p><p>“Trying to… what?” Constanze couldn’t imagine what had Lotte so uneased. It wasn’t like how she was back in Ludinghal; it was an embarrassed sort of anxiety that now overtook her. The growing redness of her cheeks said it all. </p><p> </p><p>“I—” Lotte’s own internal voice yelled at her. <em> “Stop stuttering and say what you want to say!” </em>If she didn’t want to be a complete third wheel, she’d have to actually assert herself at some point. “Nevermind…. I just need a minute.” At some point that would only come with time, so it seemed. Lotte exhaled heavily and leaned forward slightly. She took a moment to wipe her glasses down while Constanze hummed thoughtfully, trying to parse out just what had Lotte so… well, she didn’t know how to describe it. </p><p> </p><p>On edge? <em> “No,” </em> Thought Constanze. <em> “She wouldn’t be blushing.” </em> Embarrassed? <em> “Yes, but more than that.” </em> She’d work this out eventually. <em> “Sad…?” </em> There was a somber air about Lotte, that couldn’t be denied. She looked… lethargic? <em> “No, no….” </em> Constanze idly found herself fiddling with one of her random tools while Lotte got back to working on that post for the thread. <em> “Hrmm….” </em> Maybe that “eventually” would also have to wait. Constanze sighed. <em> “Just hope she’ll be alright.” </em></p><p> </p><p>Longing was the word Constanze was looking for. Lotte longed for many things, things she actively desired, and things she desired on a deep, unconscious level . She mindlessly typed away at the post; it was perfunctory, not that it needed to be anything greater. Her eyes weren’t focused on the floating display however, but just as before, they were looking beyond it, and toward the remains. The history of this place called to her, but she’d done everything in those moments to shut her ears and mind to the dirging spirits that no doubt dwelled in this place. There was a hollow solace she sought for now, a solace that let her put all of this personal business of. Why? Well, by her own admission: <em> “I’m not worth the effort right now.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Lotte felt small compared to all that was going on around her. Small and anonymous; a footnote in the greater scheme of events. The weight of it all crushed her, and would continue to crush her until what frustration and passion she allowed herself was compressed down into a diamond like hardness. A gem of hopes and dreams, one to match Malitrix’s ever-watching eyes. If a skull could emote, this one would look somber. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> CRA-CRACK-THOOOM! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Rain pelted Amanda’s jacket. Her hair was absolutely soaked, all of the shape it once had was now ruined. It was an easy fix, but in the moment, it made her look like a woman possessed. She was stood almost bow-legged at the foot of the mound. Her left hand held Carnwennan dead center by her waist, while her right arm was raised and bent at a slight angle. She pointed toward a specific spot across the tiny valleys and slopes between the rolling English hills and hillocks. She had one eye closed and the other squinted to aim. Muddy marks and streaks of rain ran down her dirtied face. Her breath was as heavy as her drenched clothes, and her boots were sinking into the mud from how firm her stance was. <em> “On three.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Amanda raised up two more fingers to accompany the first on her right. She curled them in from lowest to pointer, slowly, deliberately. Her stance tensed with each passing moment until the final finger curled to form a complete fist. Then she ran forward and leapt into the air. <em> “PHOS!” </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> THOO-THUUUUM! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Amanda dispersed into smoke as lightning flashed far away.</p><p> </p><p>The first throw was the easiest. Carnwennan found its mark perfectly: A crudely erected wooden target, struck dead on. The blade dug deep into the wet wood. When she reappeared, Amanda found herself manifesting just a foot or so off the ground, in arms reach of Carnwennan. She firmly grasped the dagger firmly, and in that same instant of reappearance, she found herself flying upward, propelled by the burst of the earlier phos spell. When she was about ten feet in the air, she used not only her free hand, but Carnwennan itself to use magic to manipulate the air around her, allowing for an easy twist-about maneuver. </p><p> </p><p>Two targets: One on the left, one on the right, both about twenty feet out. <em> “MUROWA!” </em> The blasting bolt shot right out of Carnwennan’s tip, and while it didn’t strike the target exactly, it was a pretty close hit; close enough for Amanda. No time to worry about precision at that moment anyway, she was still airborne, after all. <em> “TYPHERIOUS PHOS ELLERA!” </em>The dagger was sent flying toward the right-most target. Specifically, she aimed high. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda held her breath until she was but a foot from landing in a most poor fashion. <em> “NOW!” </em>She squinted hard, tightened her right fist, and opened her left, and she was gone. Black smoke crashed against the land below where Amanda once was, and in the time between seconds, she reappeared about twenty feet out, right above the target. Her eyes were wide, her stance adjusted, her blade poised to strike downward. </p><p> </p><p>A singular strike cleaved the soggy wood in twain, and better yet, Amanda landed on her feet! Her eyes lingered on the now ruined target before her mind caught up with her actions. She looked up like the twitchies of jackrabbits and put her right hand to the ground for stability. </p><p> </p><p>Two targets remained: They looked easy at first, but Amanda wanted to down them in a <em> very specific </em> manner. The closest was about eighty feet away on the top of a mound, and the one behind it was across a steeply sloped valley. She always saved the hardest bit for the end. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda took a deep breath, <em> “Ok… let’s go!” </em>And then was off in a full sprint. Damn the mud! Damn the rain! The wind could go to hell as well! They all fought against her every step, and those wretched voices from within just couldn’t resist dogpiling her mind. She’d fought them off time and time again throughout this training session, but nothing could ever “kill” them. What she could “kill” though were these stupid targets! </p><p> </p><p><em> “PHOS! PHOS!” </em>Two bursts of wind sent her sprint into a mad dash that defied reason. She needed to build up a good bit of force if she wanted to pull this off, and besides, speed and spite were the only things keeping her balanced on the uneven and slippery turf. Her teeth ground against each other as she neared the spot where she’d eaten dirt time and time again from improper jumps, slides, teleports, and so on. If she got this right, she’d be satisfied. </p><p> </p><p>When the time was right, Amanda dove forward. She was headed downhill, and with the aid of her air magic, she was something like a knife-wielding comet, soaring through the wind and rain with the grace of a wrecking ball, and the candor of a rabid condor. Her speed was so great that she ended up flying straight past the first target, but that was <em> exactly </em> what she was going for. Amanda swirled in the air, turning around in such a way that she maintained her arrow-like course. Her back was now to the steep valley below rather than her stomach, and her eyes were gunning for the target behind. She wound her dagger wielding arm back and waited a long, hair-pin, half-second before she let it fly true. Amanda wasn’t a praying woman, but she had to let faith and fate take the wheel here. She closed her eyes and held her breath. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> THUNK! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>There! Through the din of the rain and the clatter of distant thunder! Her dagger had found its mark! She summoned up all of her focus to think of the dagger, imagine it landing, and with those thoughts, she let her shadowed outline of smoke crash against the opposite side of the valley. Now she was back where Carnwennan was, wrenching the weapon out of its first target, and letting her prior momentum carry her forward, just as it had been before. One target remained, and she had one shot at it. Sadly, she could already tell she was running out of momentum, and gravity brooked to no insult. Her eyes widened at the sight of the encroaching ground. <em> “Shit! Shit! SHIT!” </em>Her final throw was hasty, but good enough to save her a broken leg or two. It wasn’t good enough to meet it’s mark though, and when she reappeared for the last time, Amanda would find herself at the foot of the final target at the top of the hill. She didn’t have any time or wherewithal to correct her landing, and so she was flat on her stomach, just as she would have been down in the valley were it not for her quick thinking. She lifted her head up from the deadened, wet grass and sneered up at the mocking totem she’d constructed from a rotten little tree. She used what energy and strength she left from that last attempt to harshly reach up and stab at it, leaving Carnwennan roughly in its center. Then she put her head down to rest against her arms and sighed. She wasn’t satisfied, not fully, but at the very least, she wasn’t a muddy, soggy, and badly wounded mess of limbs down in the awkward valley below.</p><p> </p><p>Instead, she was just a muddy, soggy, and more-than-mildly frustrated witch; a would-be hunter in the eyes of the order, and a would-be failure in the eyes that looked on from a mirror. An hour. Amanda had been at this exercise and more for nearly an hour, and she still couldn’t find any semblance of “peace” to “rule her mind.” There was only the constant struggle between the voices of a family she could no longer recognize, ones she couldn’t even determine to be accurate in sound anymore, and her own spite fueled persistence. Her ego, what little there was to call an ego, survived like a flaming cockroach in the wake of nuclear winter, while her body laid there in the mud. She was motionless for a solid few minutes while she gathered her breath, her thoughts, and her will to continue. </p><p> </p><p>As she lay there, Amanda heard the voice of Jehanne echo in her mind. Was it a memory? A real-time retelling of what was said? Amanda didn’t care, and she could hardly discern it besides. Regardless of understanding, Jehanne’s words would not go unheard: </p><p> </p><p><em> “Flames beget flames. Flames without more to burn precede ash. Ash begets embers when lit, which begets flame that seeks flame. And so the cycle repeats. The fire chose you, Amanda…. You could have walked away, but embers always beget fire. Flame always seeks flame. It would not have come to you were you not its distant cousin.” </em>She sounded as wistful, sagely, and soft as she did when she first spoke those words at The Balefire of Caledonia.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Piss off.” </em> But this time, Amanda wasn’t having it. She wanted to hear nothing of family from the ghost in her head right now. Really, Amanda didn’t want to hear <em> anything </em> right now. She already felt a stress induced migraine coming on from the incessant gibbering of the voices. That was too bad though, for Jehanne had more to say, and for mercy, her voice seemed to completely silence those of Amanda’s nightmare family:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Do you not desire to burn, good hunter?”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> “What I want is </em> — <em> !” </em> Amanda curled her fingers inward, gripping bits of the wet earth in a fist. <em> “I want to save my friends! My real family! My home!” </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Is it for them alone why you draw your blades?”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “What the hell kinda question is that!?”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Dyrnwyn burns only for the honest, the just, the resolute.”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> “What’s that got to do….” </em> Amanda paused and grunted as she shoved herself off of her stomach. <em> “With the fire?” </em> She was knelt over awkwardly, her hands still pressed deep into the mud, and her lungs still recovering for her efforts. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Did you not hear my words? Flame always seeks </em> — <em> ” </em></p><p> </p><p><em> “Christ! I heard you!” </em>Amanda forced herself to one knee, and then up onto her feet. She looked down at herself in search of that wispy blue orb, only to find nothing. She slowly spun herself about then, leering every which way in search of Jehanne. “Where the hell are you!?” If she could hear Amanda’s thoughts, surely she could hear her words. </p><p> </p><p><em> “A fire that does not wish to burn, to be as it is, is doomed to smolder.” </em>Or maybe not. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda spat to the wind and rain as she snatched Carnwennan out from the flimsy target. “I asked you a question!” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Whatever answers you seek, I cannot provide.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Bullshit!” Thunder roared farther and farther away. “You know things that I don’t!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “As do you, good hunter.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Amanda wiped her forehead clean of dirt and water and threw her hand down by her side in one swift motion. “Could you be straight with me for one goddamn second!?” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I do all that I can, reclaimer, to ensure your well being.”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Really now?” Amanda threw her arms out wide and paced in a slow, meandering circle. “You call these cryptic ass messages of yours helpful?”</p><p> </p><p><em> “I know the answers to my hardships, and mine alone.” </em>Jehanne sounded sterner now.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda let her arms fall to her side. She sighed. “Then why are you even bothering me? I got enough going through my head without you butting in.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Did you reject your sister when she came to you offering succor? Does she not suffer from different wounds?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“You leave her the <em> fuck </em> out of this!” Constanze did enough for Amanda; end of story. “This is between you, me, and this stupid fire you shoved down throat!” Amanda jabbed a pointer-finger to the air. “I’d be getting along fine without you and your ancient bullshit making me question everything at every turn! I’d be alright if I didn’t feel like I was suddenly responsible for the order <em> you </em> couldn’t keep alive! Maybe I wouldn’t feel like a <em> god damn </em> failure if you weren’t trying to make me take on more than I can handle!”</p><p> </p><p><em> “You forget yourself, hunter!” </em> Lightning cracked behind Amanda; Jehanne had had enough. Amanda spun about and saw an aged, sodden tree off in the distance. It was burning now, having been struck by a wayward bolt. <em> “It was by your own will that you joined the order! It was you who agreed to my request! And it was you who agreed to Asgall’s trials!” </em> Amanda grit her teeth with resentment, while Jehanne could only frown with genuine, but unseen pity. <em> “My good hunter….” </em> She breathed a sigh, and so the flames of the distant tree began to recede under the weight of the rainfall. “ <em> My intent was never to anger you, only to aide you.” </em></p><p> </p><p>Amanda panted heavily as she mustered a more level response. “Well you’re doing a piss poor job of that.” She was still mad as all hell though. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Perhaps I have failed you.” </em> Amanda’s scorn faltered. <em> “But you cannot deny that you have also failed yourself.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>“Go to hell!” Only to return redoubled. “I don’t need to be reminded that I don’t deserve any of this shit!”</p><p> </p><p><em> “But therein lies the problem!” </em> Thunder clapped overhead, faltering Amanda’s resolve once more. <em> “You need no foe from without to vex your heart! You require no defeat to believe you’ve already lost! You snuff your own kindling before you ever let yourself burn!” </em> Every truth struck at Amanda’s heart like a spectral dagger. Her fists trembled with rage, but she could not bring herself to interrupt Jehanne. <em> “Amanda O’Neill…. It is you who is your own worst enemy! It is you who proclaims defeat before the battle is had! It is you who refuses to burn brightly, and you alone who can strike the match!” </em> A long pause followed before Jehanne continued with sorrow in her voice. <em> “And it is you who would still suffer from these self deceptions, with or without the Balefire.” </em> Amanda’s eyes softened, her glare became mournful. The truth hurt more than she’d like. <em> “I did not speak cryptically when I said that flames beget flames. Maxwell Glendenning spoke no fictions when he told you of the Balefire’s nature: Fire is both singular and many.”  </em> Amanda remained quiet. She heard only her breathing, the wind, and the rain beside Jehanne’s surprisingly tender voice. <em> “Alone, fire fades to embers, to ash. But without embers, without ash, there can be no fire. That is why this fire is ours….” </em> The burning tree quickly found itself doused. Each licking wick of flame was suffocated under the weight of rainfall. <em> “But it must also be yours if it is to be ours.” </em> Jehanne seemed to take a long, measured breath before she spoke any further. <em> “Now I shall ask you again, Amanda O’Neill, reclaimer of my legacy: Do you not desire to burn?”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Amanda let the wind and water wash over her. Streaks of mud and dirt fell from her jacket in droplets. She flexed her fingers slowly, cracking each knuckle one at a time. Her expression and head were confused. She was frustrated, despaired, spiteful, and hopeful all at once. “I…. I don’t know how to.” She slowly closed her eyes, tried to visualize the fire in her heart, and again, found herself stumped. “I don’t know what this fire is supposed to be, what it’s supposed to mean, why it grows, shrinks….” Amanda shook her head ruefully. “Like, I listened to what Maxwell said! I get that the Balefire and the order is supposed to be some sort of bulwark or whatever, and I’m all for that!” She threw her arms wide, begging for an answer. “That was never the problem!” Jehanne’s accusations sank in then. She could deny them no further. “I know that I’ve been my own worst enemy, I get it! What I don’t get is how the Balefire is supposed to <em> fix that </em>!” She let her arms fall back to her sides as her breathing became more heavy and stricken with remorse.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t get it, Jehanne! What am I supposed to do!? Why does this fire in me matter so damn much!?” The window howled and whistled. No answer came. “If you’re going to saddle me with this burden, then at least tell me why it matters!” Thunder rolled away toward the north. The rain followed it slowly. “Come on! I’m losing my mind here!” Amanda followed the sound of thunder. She stumbled down the hill, falling to her hands and knees once more. She hissed in minute pain before she shot her eyes skyward. “Don’t you dare cut and run like that!” Her words could not halt the storm’s departure though. The grey gloom of a quieter, colder sky replaced the darker tones of the fading thunderclouds. </p><p> </p><p>Despite the storm’s assured passing, Amanda couldn’t tell teardrop from rain. <em>“</em>Y-You can’t just leave me like this! Not after what you said!<em>”</em> Only one managed to escape her spiteful, yet regretful glare, but it weighed like a bucket’s worth of sorrow on her heart. “Look: I’m sorry!” Amanda clawed and struggled to find her footing, but the slippery earth refused her. “I’ll do anything if it means I can change! Anything!” Alas, Jehanne had seemingly passed on. Amanda had “failed” again, all because of her foul mouth, her spite filled heart, and her unwavering stubbornness. “God… damnit!” She struck the earth in front of her with a weak fist. She tired of this Balefire, this legacy she supposedly “reclaimed.” She made a promise, but what was a promise that couldn’t possibly be kept? Amanda felt she’d been overestimated. She never knew the fire, never understood this “burning” that she’d been told to do ever since it leapt up into her heart, and still failed to grasp why any of it had to hinge on her. She was a flame, supposedly, a kindred entity with the Balefire, but clearly, from where she knelt now, knuckle deep in the mud, it had chosen poorly. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Back to square-fuckin-one….” </em> Lamented Amanda. <em> “Shouldn’t have made all those damn promises…. Should’ve known I couldn’t keep ‘em.” </em> Flashes passed in her mind. Images of battle, strife; crossed swords between her, Nikolai, and countless other witches and vampires embroiled in battle. She blinked and let her eyes focus upon the ground, then the hill above her, and finally upon the light grey clouds beyond. <em> “I can keep one of them though…. With or without the fire.” </em>The flashes returned. Blood spilled from fighter to fighter. Amanda and Nikolai sporadically battered, bashed, and slashed at one another in a flurry of blades. Neither gave an inch at first, but in the end, they both gave their lives as both found their swords driven into the other’s heart. The vision passed like a day-mare, and Amanda felt herself clutching at her left breast. Her heart felt cold, piercingly so, and her breath was visible. She’d never felt a cold quite like this.</p><p> </p><p>As she knelt there, shivering in the shadow of retreating clouds, Amanda hardened her heart and prepared to depart. Clearly, she thought, she had been abandoned by the fire and Jehanne. She had finally proven herself unworthy, just as she’d been saying she was all along. She was free of responsibility and guilt. All that remained was the fight ahead, and the slim chance that she might live through it to see her beloveds ag—</p><p> </p><p>The sun shined down upon Amanda’s back. It reflected a bright sheen off of her black leather jacket, and warmed her faltering spirit in a way that was as equally unnatural. She glanced back over her shoulder, and found herself blinded. “Nngh! The hell?” The sun was right in her eyes, clear in the sky; a miracle in English winter. She brought one hand up to shade herself as she rose up onto her feet, all while still holding her chest. The warmth of the glow spread from her back to her front, face and all. Amanda rolled her shoulders as she adjusted to this sudden shift. She couldn’t tell what was causing it, but it felt strongest in her heart. She looked down to her clutching hand, only then realizing it to be her right one, and once again found herself transfixed on the unfinished mark of the order. <em> “Did you—?”  </em></p><p> </p><p><em> “Indeed it did.” </em> Jehanne’s voice came jarringly. No longer did she sound like a spectre or ghost, an echo out of time and space come to guide her, but as that of someone who was right behind her, and very much alive. Yet, upon turning about, Amanda was greeted only by the open air, and the darkening storm that receded beyond the horizon. <em> “Search not for me, for I am near past my time.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Amanda spoke warrily, wearily, “I didn’t know... you were on a clock….” She knew naught what to make of this.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Worry yourself not. You and yours have enough to fret over….” </em> Jehanne did her best to hide the regret and remorse in her voice. <em> “Focus instead upon the present. I have come to ensure that you know what must be done.” </em></p><p> </p><p>Amanda took a deep breath and pushed on. “Well I know I can’t back down, that’s for damn sure.” Neither spite nor fate would allow her. “But I ain’t about to say I’m happy about it.” </p><p> </p><p>Jehanne hesitated. Amanda could sense her contemplating her words carefully. <em> “I too took little joy in my wars…. I ask you not to smile in the face of your enemies, but to stand proud against them.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Amanda sighed. “I’m doing the best I can here, Jehnny.” Her expression and tone softened; she seemed resigned. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Nay.” </em> But Jehanne would not allow that resignation to take hold. <em> “You have come far, Amanda O’Neill, but this is not your full potential…. As for the war within you, I can say this much: The fire is meant to help you, yes. But it will aid you only if you let it, and it will do so in ways that I cannot describe.” </em> For a brief moment, the heat in Amanda’s heart flared. <em> “You are to become one with the flame, not deny it.” </em> Amanda nearly fell back at the sudden sensation, but soon felt at ease as she remembered back to the depths of the order hall. Yes, this was that same feeling of intense heat without the burning that she experienced when she stood in the Balefire itself. <em> “Your declaration to win this fight with or without the flame is one I know you made out of courage, out of necessity…. But it is cowardice which sees you fleeing the fire, not strength.” </em> Amanda looked down at her hands and chest, and then back up and around her. She looked uncomfortable, embarrassed even; she’d been had. <em> “You are not yet the witch you are destined to be.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Amanda’s self deprecating frown deepened into one of disgust, not for herself, but for the word Jehanne had used. “I don’t know why I’m here, why you and your fire are so interested in me, or why the world’s gonna die sooner if me or my friends get offed.” She crossed her arms about her chest. “But I know that this isn’t happening because it was destined to.” Coward or not, Amanda had principles.</p><p> </p><p>Jehanne silently smiled, and for whatever reason, Amanda could feel that too. <em> “Pray forgive this romantic soul of mine.” </em> Jehanne’s invisible, impermeable being looked off toward the sun. <em> “Too often did I walk about as a warrior, and not as a woman, stonewalled off to the softer side of myself, much like my brothers and sisters in arms….” </em> They were a colorful cast of witches, Fae, monsters, and mundane folk alike. An eclectic army of mercenaries in ages past. She missed them to this day. Jehanne would have stroked her chin and pony-tailed hair, straightening it out ever so gently behind her back, were she tangible. <em> “When I drop my guard, I sometimes forget my own wisdom: There are no chosen men. No destined fates.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Amanda quirked a brow. “It’s uh….” She loosened her rigid posture bit by bit. “Not a problem. I get it.” She didn’t really, or maybe she did. It was just disorienting to be having a more “casual” conversation with what was a sort of ghostly reincarnation of one of The Nine Olde Witches after all that had already been said. “Soooo, if I’m not destined, then what am I?” Her question saw her feeling Jehanne’s radiant eyes upon her. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “You and yours are our best shot at righting me and my comrade’s wrongs.”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Amanda sighed again, but this time, she couldn’t help but crack a half smile. “Thanks, I guess.” It was nice to be trusted so, even if she would likely reject such trust as legitimate later on. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I mean it, Amanda O’Neill.”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>A gently raised palm halted Jehanne. “Just Amanda’s fine.” </p><p> </p><p>Jehanne nodded. <em> “Very well, Amanda.” </em>The warmth upon Amanda grew in intensity as the clouds drifted further and further away from it. Truly, it felt like a spring day in the middle of December. </p><p> </p><p>“But before we get sidetracked,” Amanda gulped back the emotions that had been previously caught in her throat. “I still want to know how I’m supposed to burn like you want me to.” She forced herself to take on a more confident posture. “If this fire in me is supposed to <em> literally </em> become a part of me, and… that’s somehow supposed to make it mind and help me stop shooting myself in the foot, then I want to know how.” She looked down to her slightly twitching left hand, and her marked right hand, and spoke her last desire. “Because if I’m my own enemy, then how the hell am I supposed to light my own fire while lightin’ yours?”</p><p> </p><p>Jehanne let time pass for a brief, but long feeling while. She considered her words carefully, and regarded the young hunter before her with maternal pride. Her words came as hot, gentle sensations upon Amanda’s ears. <em> “I understand that you may think such tasks separate, but they are in fact one.” </em> Amanda looked up, only for her eyes to be drawn back down as her chest began to grow hotter and hotter. She fumbled at it with her hands aimlessly as Jehanne continued. <em> “Just as you and the Balefire must become one, so too shall your paths. By rekindling one, you shall rekindle the other.” </em> Amanda looked back up and around as her clothes became dry upon her skin. Steam vented off of her jacket and pants in vapor waves and misty clouds. <em> “Do you remember what I said when I first found you, Amanda?”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Amanda slowly blinked, eventually allowing her eyes to close. She was there then, in the sanctum! The darkness surrounded her! The musty stench filled her nostrils! <em> “Let burn your blood with a fury!” </em> The heat! THE HEAT! It was back! Amanda, within her own mind, clawed at her chest instinctively, looking to free herself of it, only to stop and realize something: The heat no longer burned. It was soothing now; intense, but welcome. <em> “May your heart be warmed by embers, and your lungs fill with smoke!” </em> Amanda breathed heavily as small black clouds of smoke began to escape her lips. This time though, she did not choke. <em> “Bring your soul to bear that it might blaze!” </em> Amanda’s eyes fluttered open. She saw embers being whisked away in the wind. <em> “Where I began the flame, you must feed it! Seek glory and burn brightly!” </em> Her hair sparked as embers were sent to the wind. <em> “Where once this flame was mine, now it is yours.” </em> Heat radiated off of her, creating rippling waves in the air about her as if she were a walking mirage. <em> “Go and bear the torch well, good hunter, lest darkness consume all. Remember well our creed: All that is demanded of those who seek to defeat evil, is that they stand up, and fight!” </em> In that instant, Amanda awoke from her self induced vision, and the heat of the fire vanished from her in a cold wind. It retreated inward, reverting back into that semi-inert state that it had been stuck in since that morning </p><p> </p><p>Amanda gasped back to life, unaware of the flickering flames in her irises, but the dispersing black wisps and the embers at her feet spoke to something: That was no mere dream. Amanda was still on her feet, but she was trembling slightly, <em> “So you do remember.” </em> And sure enough, Jehanne was still with her. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda held her left hand in her right, forcing it still. “Was that you… trying to… make me one with—” She didn’t know how she knew, but Jehanne was nodding. “But I pushed you away…. I snuffed out the fire….” As she said this, Amanda’s burning properties began to fade away. Her breath became normal, her body cooled down, and her hair chilled. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Only somewhat.” </em> Jehanne’s maternal proudness only became more pronounced. <em> “As I said, with or without The Balefire, you would have struggled, but it is precisely this struggle which will make you stronger yet, and allow you to become one with the flame, further emboldening your body and mind….” </em> A warm wind fell upon Amanda as Jehanne placed images within her mind. Flashes, vague, and sometimes without color. Visions of struggle and strife with strangers, witches, Fae, and mundane folk from around the world, rallying to the new Balefire’s burning banner. <em> “You will become a warrior worthy of my position, and you shall lead many a witch to better times alongside your sister.” </em> Constanze was there too, alongside legions of laborers, ready to build the brighter tomorrow being fought over. <em> “This is the future I hope to see you realize. One where there is hope; one where we have a fighting chance.” </em></p><p> </p><p>The mindly images began to fade, but before they did, Amanda saw flashes of other groups wading into these battles, and building the future in their own ways. Many were witches, Fae, and mundane folk who Amanda could not identify. They wore raiments unfamiliar to her, fought under banners and covens alien to her, but one group was unmistakable: The Antiquarians in their purples and golds. Before Amanda could try to parse out any individuals amongst the crowds, the visions became murky and diluted, exiting her mind like evaporating water droplets. </p><p> </p><p><em> “This is the legacy I hope you leave." </em>Jehanne concluded.</p><p> </p><p>A shiver ran along Amanda’s back then as the warm wind became cold. She already missed the comfort of that unnatural heat. She glanced down at her tightly clenched hands before looking back up at the sky with a tinge of fear coloring her words. “And what if I can’t do this? Is it gonna burn me away?”   </p><p> </p><p><em> “Nay…. You are... safe in its hands.” </em>Jehanne sounded hesitant though, only adding to Amanda’s many doubts. </p><p> </p><p>“But why do you need me and the order to have a <em> fighting chance </em>?” Amanda stepped forward, fear rising in her gut. “What do we even need to fight against?!” </p><p> </p><p>Jehanne silently, unseenly, pursed her lips. <em> “Fear not for those later days, Amanda.” </em> She made sure she spoke with the utmost of confidence now, <em> “Live in the present, and focus upon uniting with the Balefire now, for without the union of flames, I fear for your chances of victory in the immediate conflict.” </em> For she neither had the time nor right to divulge the future. <em> “It is paramount that you prevail against the Bathorys. A defeat in the present ensures us a defeat in the future.” </em> It only took one tarnished <em> symphony </em> to ruin the whole <em> concert. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Then tell me what I need to do to fix this!” Blurted out Amanda. She stepped forward, her voice heavy yet quick with urgency. “I’ll do it! I’ll do whatever it takes if it means I can save my friends!” And this world.</p><p> </p><p>Jehanne’s smile could be felt once more. <em> “Good hunter, I can seldom stay longer, but before I return to my restful death, I shall tell what must be done.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Amanda began to smile as hope rose in her like the heat in her heart. Then it faltered as an old memory struck her. “B-But I thought you couldn’t give me any answers. What gives?”</p><p> </p><p><em> “I cannot.” </em> Jehanne shook her head. <em> “But I can pose you a question: A question that you must answer if you are to herald the Balefire’s return alongside your sister.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Amanda’s eyes wided. “Wait, seriously!?” Jehanne nodded, and Amanda’s heavy-ish breathing became a sort of exacerbated laugh. “A-Alright! Let’s hear it then!” Finally! A way forward! It’s all Amanda ever wanted in life: Clear direction.</p><p> </p><p>Jehanne’s presence descended upon Amanda, enveloping in a strange sort of huge while her words echoed through the mind of her chosen champion and reclaimer. <em> “Listen well, Amanda. I have not the time to repeat this:” </em> If Amanda had a pen and paper, she’d be ready to write this “question” down a thousand times over, just to be safe. <em> “If there are no chosen men, then who is the one whom judges you as worthy, or unworthy?” </em> Amanda’s eagerness slowly melted away. Her mouth hung open a little bit, as if to ask for an explanation, though Jehanne offered none. <em> “Remember this question, and these three truths of The Balefire:” </em> Jehanne’s voice began to fade, becoming more ghostly, just as it was before. <em> “Flame always seeks flame, fire is both singular and many, and most importantly, all that is demanded of those who seek to defeat evil, is that they stand up, and fight!” </em>Further and further away did her voice drift. It took Amanda a few moments to realize it was even happening.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey! Wait!” Amanda chased after the fleeting sounds, stumbling and trudging up the hill she’d fallen down with all due haste, as if she could somehow get closer. “Wait, wait! Hold up!” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I have said what I can, it falls to you now, Amanda.”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> Amanda grit her teeth as she clambered up the steepest bits of the hill. For a moment, she was certain she was getting closer to the voice. “What about Dyrnwyn!?”  </p><p> </p><p><em> “Dyrnwyn… only… the honest... just… resolute….” </em>Alas, her words became one with the wind once Amanda reached the top of the sloped hill. She got to her feet just in time to see the late sunrise over Sutton Hoo and the westward stretches of land, the clouds having finally cleared for the first time in days. All that remained in the air now was the scent of rain, the cold of winter, and Jehanne’s lingering words. They rattled around Amanda’s mind, repeating over and over again, ensuring she would not forget them. </p><p> </p><p> Despite her immediate frustrations, fueled by the ever present spite in her veins, Amanda felt she’d been given a second wind. Her knees felt weak and sore, her lungs heavy, and the fire, <em> her fire </em>, remained stagnant. A part of her she couldn’t understand, perhaps primal, base, or more profound and complex than that, yearned for its growth. She wished to burn, deep down inside, she wanted nothing more than to become the inferno which will burn away the Bathorys, and all like them, but her cognizant self, her thinking being, remained hesitant, and she knew all too well why. </p><p> </p><p>Doubt, worthlessness, fear, those were the things that ruled her mind at the worst possible moments. Amanda recognized those things as her foes long ago, but only now was she starting to pull the mask off the boogiemen that shouted at her from within her very own mind. She set upon each and every one of them with a gaze defined only by contempt and spite, just as she did toward the evening sun. <em> “Alright, I mean it for real this time,” </em> Amanda put one hand to Carnwennan’s hilt, and the other to the left side of her belt where Dyrnwyn would soon rest. <em> “It’s time I got my head out my ass and started taking myself seriously.” </em> The soon-to-be-setting sun warmed her face as she looked on toward that brighter horizon with fire still in her eyes. <em> “One way or another, I’m going into this fight and giving it all I got! And from now on, no more running! No more denying! No more excuses! Amanda-Freakin-O’Neill is comin’ back, and she ain’t backing down ever again!” </em> Her grip tightened as her resolve hardened. Only one fear remained in her mind. <em> “Maxwell… you crazy old son of a bitch…. You better not be dead when we get to Porthcurno!” </em> Jehanne’s titular question, and her words about Dyrnwyn, burned themselves into Amanda’s psyche. <em> “Because if you are, then I got no damn idea how I’m gonna make sense of this before shit goes down.” </em> Amanda couldn’t allow fear to rule her mind though. She had allowed for that enough in one lifetime. <em> “Either way… I’ll see you on the other side if things go to hell.” </em>She was ready to fight until every ember in her veins went dark. Amanda was ready to fight and die for what she loved and believed in.</p><p> </p><p>Sucy was right about that at least; that aspect of Amanda would never change. For once, Amanda was glad to have been wrong.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> About four hours later…. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Ok, so lemme get this straight….” Amanda wiped her brow as she blew air out from her puffed up cheeks. “We’ve gone viral,”</p><p> </p><p>“K-Kinda.” Lotte shrunk down into her heavy coat as she refreshed her many, <em> many </em> open tabs of witch-net for the umpeenth time during this final flight to Porthcurno. The idsplays gave much needed light to the now dark skies they flew in. “The thread isn’t <em> that </em> popular, but s-some people posted our story on Fijit.” Pronounced like fidget, a popular social media app in the mundane world. “That’s where it really started getting noticed.” Comments by the dozens each minute, likes by the bucketloads. From there, the story would propagate itself.  </p><p> </p><p>Amanda whistled, impressed, and in awe of just how fast news spread these days. “Damn.” Not that she didn’t <em> know </em> it was like that. It just felt weird being on the receiving end of that wildfire-like phenomenon. “Sis.” Constanze didn’t respond immediately. She was doing her damndest to parse out what Jehanne had told Amanda,“Oi, Conz.” But to no avail.</p><p> </p><p>The witch-smith blinked, “Mmm?” And her mind blanked as she glanced over her shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“You realize we’re <em> totally </em> going on a watchlist for this, right?” Constanze groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose.</p><p> </p><p>Lotte nearly had a heart attack right then and there. “Ehhh!?” She wobbled against her broom, struggling to stay afloat and on course.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze gave her sister a “done” sort of look while gesturing to Lotte. “What!? I’m <em> not </em> joking here! This is serious shit!” Amanda, for all her blundering, was indeed trying to be serious. She rode her broom up beside her sister’s and leaned over. “I don’t care if this little stunt of ours gets us known around witch-net; that’s cool, whatever, it’s kinda what we were going for. But fucking <em> Fijit </em>!?” Next thing they knew and word of this would spread to mainstream media. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze eased up her expression, but she seemed set in her ways. “Mmmm mm.” She grunted. <em> “That was the point.” </em>Her eyes faced forward again. “Bound to happen.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ok, sure, there was a risk, but we also weren’t really expecting a whole ass compound to be there!” And really, that’s the only reason Amanda was concerned. </p><p> </p><p>“We knew the risks.” </p><p> </p><p>“Did we…?” </p><p> </p><p>“You weren’t worried a day ago.” Commented Constanze with a small twinge of annoyance. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, well—” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze cut her sister off with a look. A knowing kind of sisterly look that said: <em> “You only regret it because we got caught.” </em> Amanda fell quiet until she eventually sighed. Constanze continued from there. “Not like you to worry about stuff.” Rather, it wasn’t like Amanda to worry <em> about </em> stuff like <em> this </em>.</p><p> </p><p>“I know, I know.” Amanda held her hands up defensively as she tried to piece it together. Luckily for her, this was an easy matter compared to everything else. “First off, Lotte.”</p><p> </p><p>“Y-Yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>“Chill.” Amanda, in the most casual display of show-offs-manship, turned her broom around and rode it backwards in one quick motion. The rising moonlight illuminated her face. “There’s no way you’d get implicated in this. You didn’t show up in the video, we didn’t call you by name, nothing.”</p><p> </p><p>“But what about my account?” Lotte was already scrambling to try and pull up her email and log-in information. “C-Couldn’t I be t-tracked down as the account who posted the video!? Wouldn’t that be enough to convict me?” And her rate of speech was just as frantic. “I can’t be put on a wanted list!” </p><p> </p><p>“Easy, Lotte! Easy!” Amanda blew up her chest by taking a deep inhale, silently instructing Lotte to follow along. “So…. There’s an easy fix to this….” Lotte started following along with the breathing while nodding, her twitchy hands trembling in the cold by the display.  “What you’re gonna do is <em> delete the account </em> once this is over, ok?” Lotte continued to nod along. “And based on all the people who are sharing it around on their own, it’s pretty safe to assume that it <em> probably </em> won’t be tracked back to that website very fast, right?” Their chests rose and fell in relative unison. </p><p> </p><p>Lotte was starting to calm down. “I guess that makes sense….” Though she still had her doubts. </p><p> </p><p>“Right, and hey, since this is blowing up in a good way, maybe you can get some help from some of the other weirdos on that website.” Amanda bit her tongue a little too late. “I-I mean, you’re a mod right? I’m sure they’d wanna help.”</p><p> </p><p>Lotte couldn’t care less about being “weird” right now though, so she let it slide. “Yeah. I think…. I know an admin who can help scrub the meta-data.” Besides, she <em>was</em> weird. She just had circumstantially changing opinions on whether that was a good thing or not.</p><p> </p><p>“I have <em> no idea </em> what that means, but I trust you.” Amanda gave two thumbs up to drive the point home. </p><p> </p><p>Lotte lifted her glasses up to wipe her face, her flight path having been steadied alongside her nerves. “Thanks, Amanda.” Constanze raised one of her own thumbs up, though she didn’t turn around. Lotte sighed with some measure of relief. “You too, Constanze.” </p><p> </p><p>“Mhm.” Constanze beckoned for her sister then, prompting Amanda to casually spin right around and rejoin Constanze at her side, leaving Lotte to work out her online safety on her own. “Still think it’s weird for you to be worried.” She looked Amanda in the eye from the side, doing her best not to seem intense. “You never used to care about breaking laws. Why be worried now?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda scratched the back of her head idly, tilting it away by just a hair. “It’s about the order….” Amanda trailed off as the images of her future came to the forefront of her mind; a future and threat she <em> hadn’t </em> shared with Constanze. The future where she fights at the forefront against the end of the world, carrying the torch of the Balefire alongside Constanze and their comrades against… something. Something Jehanne didn’t bother to explain. <em> “Conz is right…. This shit really does just keep getting weirder.” </em> Then she thought of the heat, or lack thereof, that resided in her chest. She barely noticed it when it was there, but now that it was gone, it was like she was missing a lung. <em> “And what the hell’s wrong with you?” </em> She asked rhetorically of the Balefire. <em> “I already said I was gonna do this the right way, so why aren’t you heating up again?” </em> Of course, no response came.</p><p> </p><p>Speaking of Constanze: “What about the order?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda blinked once, shooing the visions and frets from her head. “I mean, if we’re gonna be serious about building it back up, then it’d probably be a smart idea to lay low until we’re all set up....” She idly cracked her knuckles while figuring out what else to say. “And besides… me, Hannah, and Babs got a life to live. I don’t wanna drag them into something like this if they don’t wanna be a part of it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmmmm….” Constanze’s eyes drifted away from her sister as she considered her answer. Amanda seemed strangely worried, but about what, Constanze was unsure.</p><p> </p><p>“M-More importantly,” Stuttered Amanda while gesturing a bit rigidly. </p><p> </p><p>“Mm?” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda paused, flexed her fingers, and then sighed. “We gotta keep ourselves safe.” She turned toward Constanze fully then, addressing her with all due seriousness. “There’s bigger things going on beyond me, I get that now,” In some unconscious way, she always had. Now she couldn’t ignore it; the scale of their chaotic world. “And… well,” She rubbed the back of her head with her twitching left hand, doing her best to busy it to stymie the tremors. “It ain’t worth riskin’ my life over stupid shit.” She tensed up, realizing she’d flubbed it. “I-I mean, this is important of course, a-and, like, I mean….” Amanda sighed and gestured with her hands as if she were holding the sides of a box by its sides. “Look: We need to be smarter about how we act.” Then she thumbed at her chest. “<em> I </em> need to be smarter about how <em> I’m </em> acting. I ain’t just a wand for hire for no more. I can’t afford to treat this like a hobby; people’s lives are on the line, and well… I’m tired of flip flopping on whether I’m worthy of this shit or not, so I’m putting my foot down.” Constanze listened intently all the while. About half way through, she turned sidelong to meet Amanda’s wandering gaze. Even Lotte perked up from her witch-net fiddlings to pay close attention.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda brought her left hand to her broom, and her right to her chest, bumping her fist against her heart. “I’m gonna take over this order and make something good out of it with you, and not just because Jehanne or the fire told me to….” Her eyes fell down to the back of her right hand then. For once, she looked at the unfinished symbol with the slightest sense of pride and acceptance. “Not to sound like a selfish jackass, but it ain’t just about all the people who need something like the Balefire to help them either.” She thought of her blood family, of her real family, Constanze and the others of the New Nine, and she thought of Luna Nova; all whose fates hung in the balance. “I’m doing this for me too. It’s what I wanna do with my life. It’s what’s gonna give me something I haven’t had in a long time:” Her clenched right fist eased itself as she looked up at Constanze. “Somethin’ I can call my own and be proud of.” A sappy smile, laden with all the sentiment in the world, brightened up Amanda’s face, despite her best attempts to suppress it. </p><p> </p><p>It spread infectiously to Constanze and had her chuckling warmly. “I’m proud of you….” Amanda had said she’d handle this problem on her own. Now, after hearing what she’d said, Constanze knew her sister was right. “You big dork.” Maxwell or no, she’d find a way.</p><p> </p><p>“Oi, oi! Haha!” Amanda started laughing against her will. “Last I checked, I was a <em> dumb punk </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“You can be both.” All seriousness and weight the situation had, for the mercy of their weary hearts, fell away with each playful prod. “You big dumb dorky punk.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda wiped her chin and lips as she nodded. “Heh! You sure this new order’s got enough room for <em> two </em> big dorks?”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze shook her head before she turned herself forward once more. “Thought I was a big nerd?” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda’s dumb smile became a cocky grin. “There’s a difference?” Constanze scoffed. “Lotte, back me up, am I wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>Lotte managed a weak giggle. “She’s got you there, Constanze.” All three of them laughed a little at that. From there, they let the minutes fly by with levity for the first time in a while. They all let their eyes and minds wander. Signs of destruction lay below them, and the weight of the coming battle weighed down upon them, but it was the little moments like these that kept their spirits from cracking. After a short while of nothing, Lotte found herself drawn back to her many open tabs. The headline about the joint military operation in the English channel caught her eye. “S-Say, what should we do about the ships.” The navys, she meant. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda cracked her neck idly. “There’s nothing we can do until we find out what the situation at Porthcurno is like.” Meaning, as far as Amanda was concerned, it was a non-issue until it made itself one. </p><p> </p><p>“Mhm.” Constanze nodded. “The locals and witches can fill us in. We’ll talk to them tom—” But she was cut off. Lights were shining in the distance. She looked below and saw a stretch of highway that led into an even more familiar suburb, one torn by battle. Then she looked back up and squinted, spying the signs of the shore toward the west, and catching glimpses of lightning farther beyond. “Lotte! Amanda!”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm?” Hummed Lotte. </p><p> </p><p>“What’s—” Amanda spied it too then; the familiar details, things Lotte couldn’t have realized. It brought a wide smile to both her and Constanze’s faces: They were nearly there. “Time to hustle you two! Come one!” Amanda whipped her wand from her belt like a natural gunslinger.</p><p> </p><p>Lotte could only blink in confusion, “Ehh!? Wait, why? Are we almost—?”</p><p> </p><p>Before Amanda blasted herself forward. <em> “Typherious Phos!”  </em></p><p> </p><p>“WAAAHAHAHAAH!” The gust shattered the witch-net displays into ephemeral holographic fragments and scattered them to the wind while Lotte was all but spun out into a nosedive thanks to her hot-headed friend! “AMANDA!” She yelled after recovering from her <em> wholly unwelcome </em>series of broombound backflips. “WATCH WHERE YOU’RE CASTING!” She nearly lost her glasses there! Constanze groaned and palmed her face in a poor attempt to hide her smile. “I-IT’S NOT….” Lotte tried to fight it, but she really wasn’t a fighter in many senses of the word. “Ohh…! Nevermind!” She rubbed her temples and eventually found the strength to catch up with the sisterly witches. </p><p> </p><p> And so they went together, on to witness the sparks that would kindle the waning flame. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Porthcurno was something to behold nowadays. From a ramshackled, scared, but resilient town, to a less ramshackled, and loosely organized community, the arrival of witches had done the locals much good. Constanze’s hastily erected barriers of stone had been more thoroughly shaped into walls with rudimentary gates, hollowed out rooms sporting windows; veritable middle age battlements, minus the flare of course. The defences used to simply encompass the town square, government buildings, and the police station, but now they flowed in and around the buildings as if they’d always been there. The only give away that made them look alien was the roughness of the surfaces, and the lack of any creases that might suggest they were made of bricks; no, it was all one solid rock, wrought from the very earth that propped the town up. </p><p> </p><p>Now, with the aid of those valiant witches, and the direction of the stalwart locals, that former hold-up in the center of town had become a full compound that extended around the modest commercial district, the municipal center of town, and parts of the residential areas. Magic could do <em> a lot </em> when you had enough witches putting their minds to it. Speaking of the witches, while the walls defended the partially reclaimed settlement from the ground, the skies were kept clear by regular patrols of witches, and the occasional flighty Fae, all flying in loosely  V-shaped formations. This and more was all given extra texture by the glow of electric lights about the steadily growing complex; power was being restored to the people, slowly, but surely.</p><p> </p><p>The sights brought pride and glee to Amanda, Lotte, and Constanze’s hearts, but Amanda most of all. She didn’t really know how to describe the sensation as she speared ahead toward the town at a break-neck pace. A grin was plastered on her face, and she felt a sort of tingling in her gut, the kind that made it impossible for her not to laugh a little bit. It was like she was arriving at an oasis after spending days on end, hopelessly wandering a nameless desert, though heat was not her enemy. In fact, heat started to click up and down in her chest. It rose and fell in spurts, as if her heart was a revving engine. Alas, a <em> stalling </em> engine was a more apt comparison, in truth, though she didn't care about that right now. There was time to solve that issue, time to understand Jehanne’s words, time to get their bearings and find out what was going on; time that Amanda wasn’t about to waste. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Phos! Phos!” </em> She was a whole minute ahead of her sister and friend now, speaking to just how fast Amanda was going now that the would-be finish line was so tantalizingly close. <em> “Come on, PHOS!” </em> No speed was too great, and it hardly ever was with Amanda, but now more so than ever. Burst after burst of Phos spells sent her screaming toward the town, but she couldn’t <em> just </em> fly in; she needed to enter with a bit of flare. A literal flare to be precise, magical in nature, bright red in color, and meant to draw the attention of one of the patrols. It worked like a charm. </p><p> </p><p>Heads turned not too far away, curious glances all about the town for those who could see it. It looked like a distress signal, and so the nearest patrol of three witches wasted no time in zooming off to meet Amanda and company. They were greeted by a blur of black, pink, and orange that rushed past them with enough speed to nearly blow the coats off of them! Each of them ducked down and looked about frantically, wondering what in the blazes had just flown past them, only for Amanda to come at them from behind, unintentionally scattering their formation. The disrupted witches yelped and struggled to keep themselves steady while Amanda practically skidded to a halt. Her very broom bucked backward, and she leaned from it like a privateer off the mast, jerking hard on the bending haft as if it were the breaks of some unstoppable freight train. But stop it did, and once she had, her little student drew both annoyed and bewildered stares from the witches who’d come to meet her. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda and the four witches met each other's gazes as the former’s chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. From her suave lean, she used one free hand to give a two fingered salute while holding tight to the bent broom. “Yo…!” She chuckled and panted. “This ain’t a dream, right?” Her grin remained as wide as her eyes; <em> very </em>.</p><p> </p><p>The closest witch, a lithe brown skinned woman of about twenty eight years with a stylistically shaved but otherwise curly head of hair, looked between her comrades with the utmost confusion. “Are… are you high?” She asked in what was assuredly a west London accent.  </p><p> </p><p>Amanda couldn’t help but laugh at that. She bent over, nearly falling right off of her broom to the other witches' collective concern as they reached out and yelped, only to see Amanda’s broom practically will itself to catch its cocksure rider who now balanced herself atop it. “Nope! But I’m sure as shit riding on cloud nine now that I’m here!” She proudly put her hands to her hips, resting them over both her wand and dagger. “Seriously, you guys have <em> no idea </em> how much hell we had to go through to make this happen!”</p><p> </p><p>“Make this happen?” Asked a Welsh sounding witch. They were a masculinely shaped, pale skinned, and stocky sort of person with a round jaw and shoulder length head of brown hair. They were probably in their late thirties. “Make what happen? And who’s we?”</p><p> </p><p>“Behind her! Look!” Pointed out the third witch, a tan skinned, athletic looking Spanish youth of about twenty years with a somewhat spiky head of dark brown, near black hair. His comrades looked past Amanda, who also spun about to look; Constanze and Lotte were just now arriving.</p><p> </p><p>They came to a halt with sensibility and grace, the way a broom was likely meant to be ridden, but of course, neither of them were Amanda-Freakin-O’Neill, so they just “wouldn’t get” the whole speed demon thing. “Schwester,” Constanze looked hopeful and joyed, “What the fuck?” But she was just as confused as Lotte and the newly met witches were with Amanda’s sudden, even if she couldn't help but chuckle.  </p><p> </p><p>“What?” Amanda rolled her neck from left to right, cracking it audibly. “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to cut loose like that!” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze cocked a brow. “Mmmm!” She grunted and threw her arms up a little. <em> “We’re not here to cut loose!” </em>Her smile was starting to be replaced by a more “get serious” expression.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I know!” The four witches blinked, baffled by how Amanda understood her sister. “Look, let me be happy that things finally worked the way we wanted them to, alright?!” </p><p> </p><p>Lotte cleared her throat and floated in between them. “Ummm… guys, maybe we s-should tell these people <em> who we are </em> first?” Then she leaned past Amanda to give a shy wave. “Sorry about my friends, we’ve uhh… had a long week.” At that, Amanda turned right back around, her cocky grin becoming somewhat of a bashful one while Constanze rolled her eyes and gently flew to Lotte’s side. “Just to be clear, this is Porthcurno, right?” </p><p> </p><p>The London Witch replied. “Yeeeees…?” She wasn’t uncertain of this place's identity, more so still confused by the candor of these new arrivals. “Before you say anythin’ else though, I gotta ask: Who are ye, and why’re you comin’ around here?” Based on her posture and tone, she seemed like a more reserved sort; focused, careful, perhaps a bit too much in some cases, but never so much so as to be crippled by it.  </p><p> </p><p>“My name’s—” Amanda was unintentionally interrupted though.</p><p> </p><p>“They better know what they’re getting into if they’re hoping to help….” The more grimly faced witch Wales added on. He seemed bitter about… something, maybe everything. It wasn’t like the world was sunshine and rainbows, after all. </p><p> </p><p>“¡Mula!” The Spaniard witch gestured flippantly with his right arm. “Of course they know what they’re getting into! ¡Dejarlas solas!” He seemed a lot more relaxed than any of them. He was caught off guard at first, but he seemed like Amanda’s kind of witch. He rocked a pair of boots and jacket just like hers, though it was a jean jacket, and not leather. </p><p> </p><p>“They sure don’t act like it.” Chided the Welsh witch. “They set off a distress flare for God’s sake!”</p><p> </p><p>“Take it easy for once, Drew!” Retorted the Spaniard. “Just because it was red doesn’t mean they needed help!”</p><p> </p><p>Before this farce could continue, The London Witch butted in. “Ugh! Both of you!” She seemed to be the one they respected most given how quickly they dropped the matter at her command. “Sorry about that,” She turned her head to face Amanda and company again. “You were saying?” She sounded tired, and sure, it was late at night, but she was more tired of the witches behind her rather than she was of being awake. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda chuckled and waved it off. “No worries.” She cleared her throat then and struck another proud pose. “My name’s Amanda O’Neill, and I’m here with my sister, Constanze” She gestured to her left, “And my friend, Lotte.” Then to her right. “We’re here to help kick these Bathory bastards back to the dark ages where they belong!” Finally, she smashed both hands together, one fist into the other palm, just so she could crack her knuckles for emphasis. </p><p> </p><p>Lotte resisted the urge to correct Amanda’s usage of the term “Dark Ages,” since Elizabeth Bathory was <em> actually </em> born in the <em> sixteenth </em> century when the dark ages ended in—Lotte stopped her whirring thoughts by clearing her throat and remembering what she was <em> actually </em> going to say: “Are you three by… any chance… here because of the thread?”</p><p> </p><p>“Thread?” The Londoner raised a brow. </p><p> </p><p>“No idea what you’re on about.” Replied the Welsh witch. </p><p> </p><p>“Same, I’m—Wait a sec.” The Spaniard paused and quickly whipped out their wand. A little witch-net display popped up in front of it, creating a light that drew the attention of his comrades who all glanced over their shoulders to see what he was doing. “You mean this one,” He sent the display over to Lotte with a flick of his wand. “Right?” </p><p> </p><p>Lotte adjusted her glasses and looked closely, though it didn’t take long for her to exclaim: “Yes! That’s it!” She held her fists by her collar as her face began to light up. </p><p> </p><p>“Nice, nice!” He gave a thumbs up and smiled in return.</p><p> </p><p>Lotte matched his expression. “I’m so glad you could come!” She was practically beaming, albeit, not just with satisfaction, but also “homely” concern. “I hope I gave enough info in the posts! But I guess you’re here now so we can fill you in! But I’m sorry if I couldn’t be more active! I was just really busy trying to help my friends out!” For once, the fruits of her labor were tangible! It was <em> her </em> thread that led him here, and her thread that—</p><p> </p><p>“Eh?” The Spanish witch blinked before laughing awkwardly. “Oh, no, no, you got it all wrong. I came <em> before </em> I found that thread!” Somewhere, somewhen, someone heard a mirror cracking.  </p><p> </p><p>“Ah…. I see.” Lotte’s hands fell back down to her broom. She was red in the face and forcing her smile to remain. <em> “This is why you need to THINK before you go on a huge nerdy rant!” </em> It really wasn’t <em> that </em> nerdy or <em> that </em>huge, but her conscious chastised Lotte for it anyway. </p><p> </p><p>“But uh,” The Spanish witch continued, sensing her disheartening mood. “I know at least ten people around town who came because they saw your thread.” </p><p> </p><p>Lotte almost instantly perked up. “R-Really?” Though her cheeks remained reddish. </p><p> </p><p>Her Vexer friend looked down and then up, composing his similarly awkward self. “Yeah…. I can show you around if you like, help you link up with your colegas.” Meaning “pals,” in Spanish. “Call me Dino.” Pronounced “dee-no.” </p><p> </p><p>“Ohhh-kay.” The London Witch sighed. “Before you two trip over each other anymore, how about we start heading into town.” She started scanning the horizon then, specifically the southern end, where the arcane storm around Luna Nova raged. “We haven’t been attacked for a day or two now, but it’s still not safe out here at night.” </p><p> </p><p>Drew could only grumble and mutter at that; it was his way of saying: <em> “We should have done that immediately, but sure, let’s risk getting caught off guard by giant bats again.” </em>He’s what Amanda would call a “hard ass,” though he meant well. </p><p> </p><p>“Fine by me!” Chimed Amanda as she hopped down into a more proper broom riding posture. “Lead on miss…?”</p><p> </p><p>“Harper.” The Londoner’s lips formed a fleeting smile. “My name’s Harper.” After a pause, she gestured for the group to follow her. “This way: We’ll get you situated.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmm.” Constanze nodded and took after her, followed suit by Lotte and Amanda, then by Drew and Dino. “Question.” She did her best to stay vocal for now, given <em> no one </em> besides her closest friends, and <em> maybe </em> Maxwell could make sense of her grunting and gesturing. “If the thread didn’t bring you here, then who?” </p><p> </p><p>Drew went first. “I saw the papers talking about a group holding up in this town. I came to help evacuate folks since it seemed like everyone else had just given up on ‘em, but then I found out that a good few of them <em> wanted </em> to be here.”</p><p> </p><p>His words brought Amanda, Lotte, and Constanze to all look down as the sounds of the somewhat bustling streets rose up to meet their ears. It wasn’t “lively” per say, but it was pretty active given the circumstances. Lots of Fae were out and about, especially the nocturnal types, alongside the witches and mundane folk on the ground. It was getting near the time for everyone but the night guard to hit the hay, but before that, there was still some work that folks wanted to get done: There was debris to clean up, wounded to tend to, and supplies to scavenge or cultivate in freshly planted community gardens. While those garden’s may have seemed absurd, and indeed, they really did look the part at first blush given the threat and time of year, druidic magics really helped just about <em> anything </em> grow quickly. </p><p> </p><p>“Though I can’t really blame them. I wasn’t about to abandon my home, wild monster and Fae attacks or not.” Drew was built like a boulder, and he was just as stubborn as one too.</p><p> </p><p>“Damn!” Amanda whistled and nodded. She was honestly shocked at how far along Porthcurno had come in managing itself in the midst of crisis. “You guys are really in it for the long haul!”</p><p> </p><p>Dino jumped in. “We gotta be. We have no idea when this is gonna be over, and we’ve got lotsa mouths to feed.” </p><p> </p><p>“It’ll be over when we get on the offensive.” Corrected Harper, astutely so. “As long as we can take down that… blimp…” She knew Castle Bathory was on a blimp, but clearly she still didn’t believe it. “We’ll be in the clear.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, how’d y’all know about the blimp if only Dino here was on the thread?” Asked Amanda.</p><p> </p><p>Harper glanced back over her shoulder. “How did <em> you </em> know about the blimp?”</p><p> </p><p>“We saw it.” Remarked Constanze. “Were there when the attack first happened.” She gestured slightly toward Amanda. “Barely escaped.” She still didn’t know how they even made it to shore, but that mystery had long been abandoned. </p><p> </p><p>“You were there?” Harper’s posture straightened out as she gave the new arrivals a curious look. “At Luna Nova?” </p><p> </p><p>Dino snapped his fingers then. “Hey, wait a sec!” All eyes were on him now, while his were on Lotte. “If she’s the one who made the post, then these must be here friends who helped spread the word! I remember the old man mentioned something about meeting with two undergrads from LN!” Amanda’s eyes went wide again. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze shot forward a hair, riding right up beside Dino. “Wait. Old man?” </p><p> </p><p>Dino nodded casually. “His name’s Maxwell. I met him when he was talking to Harper outside an office building.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Harper snorted. “He was listenin’ in from the alley like a creep.” Dino hesitantly chuckled and let it roll off his back.</p><p> </p><p>“Haha!” Amanda clapped her hands together. “No shit!”</p><p> </p><p>“You heard me” Dino smiled wide, feeling he’d struck gold. “He’s been wondering when you two would show up!” Now that he took a second, long look at them, they even matched Maxwell’s descriptions. “We'll take you to him now if you’d like.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze nodded fervently. “Mhm!”</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck yeah!” Amanda pumped her right fist. “Let’s go!”</p><p> </p><p>“Please!” And Lotte urged them as well. </p><p> </p><p>Harper managed a proper smile. “Stick with me then. We’ve just gotta turn a bit to head for town hall.” For how dour things had been, she couldn’t deny that this new group's enthusiasm was a tad infectious. “Drew, Dino,” As the flight group turned to adjust for Harper’s new course, her two compatriots perked up at mention of their names. “You two should keep up the patrol until the next shift’s ready. I'll join back up with you in a tic.”</p><p> </p><p>“Please don’t leave me alone with him.” Remarked Drew with enough dryness to repulse sandpaper. </p><p> </p><p>“Man, what do you got against me?” For how offended Dino sounded, he had the most coy expression, one that was met by the most tired and “done” look that Drew could have mustered. It didn’t take long for Dino to start laughing and slapping his broom. </p><p> </p><p>Harper held the left side of her head as she shook it. “Ugh, Dino, promise me you won’t goof off when you’re supposed to be on guard.” Despite having only known the guy for about a week, she already had a pretty good idea of what Dino was like; they all did really, in regard to each other. </p><p> </p><p>“Ahh come on, you know I take this seriously!” Both Drew and Harper gave Dino a bit of a knowing look in response. “Ok, so I take this with like, <em> nine percent </em> seriousness.” Just like how he took everything. The look remained, “Fine, fine, I promise.” Until finally, Harper permitted herself a sigh of relief. “Should we head out then?” He asked Drew, who sighed as well. </p><p> </p><p>“Not much of a choice….” And so they broke off from the group with Drew leading the way. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze hummed to herself and clicked her tongue. Where Amanda was absorbed into her own thoughts, and Lotte fascinated by the airs of Porthcurno, Constanze kept a close eye and ear on the conversation between Harper, Drew, and Dino. <em> “Interesting….” </em> She thought to herself. <em> “Could they have known each other before this?” </em> Her eyes lingered on Harper, who had turned her attention back to navigating the airways as the four of them descended down into the rooftop levels. <em> “Unlikely. Met while eavesdropping.” </em> She remarked about Dino. <em> “And Drew came for a completely different reason.” </em> They had to be strangers then. <em> “Only a week and they sounded… familiar.” </em> Not to Constanze, of course, but to each other. It was… strange to pontificate on, really. Social sciences weren’t her thing, and while Sucy was <em> excellent </em> at reading people, she wasn’t exactly a psychologist or negotiator. She just spoke the obvious things most people preferred to leave unsaid, and Constanze admired that aspect of her “queen of questionable chemicals.” Still, this little display had her thinking hard for reasons she really wasn’t sure of. <em> “Doesn’t feel forced…. But we’re in a crisis.” </em> She began to tap at her broom to the tune of her forge-song, something she found herself doing semi-often now. It helped her think. <em> “I guess me and Amanda weren’t… that open with each other until….” </em> She paused for a moment, <em> “Until shit hit the fan.” </em> Until she could deny Amanda’s influence on her no longer. It made her smirk. <em> “Rubbing off on each other…. Bound to happen.” </em> Her eyes drifted up then to the waxing moon. In a few days time, it would be full. <em> “I guess crisis does that to people…. Brings them together.” </em>A heartfelt sentiment, but just that. </p><p> </p><p>“Oi! Conz!” Constanze brought herself down from her own thoughts at the sound of her name. She brought her broom to a casual stop and turned to find Amanda waiting for her on the left side of an intersection. “You’re going the wrong way!” Constanze shook her head a little bit and wiped her forehead; how time flew when you were stuck in your own head. She rejoined her sister a moment later and soon found herself with the others, right outside of the town square. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Little news came on the radio. <em> “Not surprising. </em> ” Thought Maxwell. <em> “It’s been dead air since noon.” </em>  No matter which frequency he turned the dial on the old ham radio to, he picked up little besides interference. After one last careful spin that once again resulted in nothing, Maxwell sighed and reclined into the simple office chair. <em> “I don’t quite feel right….” </em>The hairs on his back prickled with suspicion, and his eyes wandered about the room. He was in the east wing of Porthcurno’s municipal center, alongside a good number of locals and witches who were tending to other businesses. </p><p> </p><p>Some were readying themselves for bed, resigning to sleeping bags or smaller offices and cubicles that had been cleared out for the express purposes of privacy and resting. Others were doing the exact opposite, mostly the witches. The Bathory’s thralls came at night, not unlike their aristocrat masters, so during the day, the locals tended to their homes, their families, restored structures alongside witches and Fae beings, and then during the night, the more martially minded, or generally agitated, witches got to work. It was a simple system, people did as they needed to, and while it wasn’t perfect or without internal conflict, it would have to do for now. <em> “It brings me back a bit,” </em> But only just a <em> bit </em> . <em> “Seeing folks come together like this.” </em> It warmed his aging heart, just as Amanda and Constanze did. <em> “To think they’re almost all total strangers.” </em> Even many of the locals had seldom known each other before this. Lives were more insular in the “modern” age. It was easy to go about a thankless routine, strolling through a well trodden rut, only to dig a trench so deep you never saw the hundreds of thousands of folks doing the same thing, just a little differently, and they only lived a block away. <em> “I just hope it’ll last.” </em>Maxwell smiled hopefully, romantically. His face was starting to get used to doing that again. It was a welcome return to form.</p><p> </p><p>More welcome than that was what he thought was a familiar voice as his eyes began to close of their own accord. It sounded like Amanda; she sounded distant and surprised by the fact that the power was on. <em> “Dreaming already, am I?” </em> Maxwell yawned. <em> “Well, I suppose it’s been a long day….” </em> But then he heard another voice, Harper’s, a woman he’d spoken to back in London on his first trip down to the southern end of the island. She was saying something about how the reclaimed parts of town were being powered by charged zephyr crystals. Then Amanda made some kind of joke about all those hucksters selling “cleansing crystals” which held special properties, when any witch worth their salt knew that <em> most </em> minerals could <em> already </em> be used for various arcane purposes. <em> “Ahhh…. Even when I’m sleepin’ I can’t get away from work. Hehe….” </em> Then the voices got a little closer, a little louder, laughter, Constanze was in there too.  Maxwell’s eyes shot open. His body froze. <em> “Wait a second.” </em>He blinked up at the blinding fluorescent light above him before lurching forward, nearly falling right out of his chair and planting his face firmly into the desk in front of him. He stabilized himself by putting his hands flat against the table and leaning forward intensely. His hard eyes scanned the room in a tizzy, the tiredness having been shaken off of him in an instant. There, across the room! They were just entering now alongside Harper and Lotte! </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell’s thoughts escaped as whispers. “By the Nine!” He reached for his Heather necklace, only to remember he’d spent it when he sent Amanda and Constanze off to Finland. “They made it!” He could hardly contain himself in his seat, and so he shot up like a loaded spring. He damn near tripped over his own robes while doing so, and of course, this would be the first  thing that Amanda and Constanze would see him doing since they left England: Flounder for balance like a drunkard. </p><p> </p><p>Drunkard or not, Amanda and Constanze were beyond overjoyed. They rushed over through the small crowds, darting between folks and Fae alike. In just a few moments, they were in tackle distance. “You son of a bitch!” Yelled Amanda in the most butch fashion possible. She got close enough to reach for him just in time for him to steady himself. He blinked once and found Amanda’s right hand squeezing his own. They collided with enough force to make a meaty thwacking noise. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> THWACK! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It was the kind of shake and grip he’d gotten from hunters back in the day, and even soldiers in the trenches. Back then, Maxwell always took it like a champ. It’s what brothers and sisters in arms did to one another after a long time apart. It comforted him back then. Now though? Now it <em> hurt like hell </em>! The second the “handshake” began was the second his mouth opened wide in noiseless pain, and his eyes clenched shut. He hunched forward and gasped for air. “A-Amanda…!” But Amanda didn’t relent.</p><p> </p><p>“What!? Did’ya miss us?” Amanda knew <em> all too well </em> what she was doing, and Constanze, for once, was enabling her. She was stood beside Amanda with her hands on her hips, and shared Amanda’s knowing, annoyed, yet overall happy sort of smile. </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell’s right hand wasn terribly acute pain. “W-Why…!? Why are you…!? Ach!” He raised his left hand to try and pry Amanda away, but to no avail. Her grip was like a vice!</p><p> </p><p>“Huuuh?” Amanda turned her head and chuckled. “What’d you say?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm mmmm.” Grunted Constanze. <em> “He wants to know why we’re mad.” </em>Mad, yet glad. </p><p> </p><p>“Ohhhh!” Amanda let his hand go only to clap him on the back twice, making him cough. “Weeeell…. It maaay have something to do with the fact that he… oh… I dunno…” Amanda hugged him with her right arm about his shoulder, while Constanze wrapped an arm about him from the left. “MAYBE it’s because he risked his life for no goddamn reason!” Many eyes were upon them now, most of which belonged to confused and concerned individuals. The rest knew they were taking the piss, and they were the ones who knew Maxwell better. They knew <em> exactly </em> why he was getting the tough love treatment. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmmmmm mmmm?” Constanze squeezed tight as well, making Maxwell grunt and groan achily. <em> “You mean when he pushed us into that portal?” </em> Amanda nodded slowly. “Mmmm mm?” She continued. <em> “When he could have come with us without any negative consequences?” </em>Amanda nodded a little faster. “Mhm!”</p><p> </p><p>“Yep! I agree!” Amanda stifled a mischievous giggle. “I think that’s <em> exactly </em> why we’re <em> so happy </em> to see him!”</p><p> </p><p>“I-I get it! I get it!” Maxwell could take no more. “I’m sorry! Both of you! Truly!” He sounded a bit afraid, but mostly happy. That just made him seem confused. </p><p> </p><p>Harper was in the same boat, alongside just about everyone else. Luckily for her, Lotte was there to explain. She nudged Harper’s side and whispered. “Ummm, you see, Maxwell sent them to my house through a portal…. And… uh… he decided not to come with them, for some reason.” Harper and a few nearby persons blinked in surprise. “Yeaaaah…. They were pretty worried about him.” Then they all nodded and “ahhed” quietly. Finally! Things were making sense. </p><p> </p><p>“Could ye p-please let me go now!?” Maxwell struggled against impossible odds. “At least to let me explain myself!” The sisters leaned forward a bit, gave each other a nod, and then pulled away, leaving Maxwell to recover. He breathed heavily, deeply, and held himself up by his knees at first, and then by his staff when Amanda was kind enough to hand it off to him. “Merciful… magicks! Did you really… oof!” His back cracked audibly when he forced his posture upright. “Did you really need to do that!?”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze returned fire. “Did you <em> really </em> need to stay behind?” </p><p> </p><p>“Well, with those… strange witches… coming after us…. Phew….” It didn’t take long for Maxwell to remember how tired he was, and the frailty of his aging body did him no favors either. “I was worried they might… be able to follow us if I didn’t buy you time.” Now wasn’t the time he wanted to explain the way flash-portals worked, but there was no other way. “If you’re quick… you can trace the destination of a faded portal…. I needed to make sure the trail went cold…. But the cave in did that for me.” And by then, it was too late to turn back. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda and Constanze both took a deep breath. Time to get a bit more serious, happy reunion or no. The former spoke first. “Alright, fair enough I guess,” It wasn’t a good enough excuse for Amanda on its own, but she could see the logic at least. “But you saw what they did to Asgall. How the hell were you gonna slow them down?”</p><p> </p><p>Maxwell wagged a firm finger her way. “Just because I’m an ‘old-as-dust’ hermit living in the mountains doesn’t mean I can’t fend for myself you know.” </p><p> </p><p>“What about Asgall?” Asked the latter. “Where is he?” The room fell quiet. No one but those three, and technically Lotte, ever heard the name “Asgall.” It made responding all the more awkward given all the eyes upon them. </p><p> </p><p>“Might we… use a private room for now?” Maxwell craned his neck about and gestured to a nearby office with his staff. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda and Constanze both shrugged. “Fine by me.” The former spoke for both of them. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes, well,” Maxwell looked back to the small crowd who’d been intrigued by this strange interaction. “The rest of you needn’t mind us! Please, go about your business. They’re just some new friends of mine….” Then he gave Constanze and Amanda warm, welcoming looks. “And despite how fresh their faces may be… we’ve been through a lot already.” Amanda and Constanze both beamed and gave him a more genuine and less drawn out hug. </p><p> </p><p>Meanwhile, the onlookers got back to whatever it was they were doing while Harper folded her arms about her chest. “I always knew he was a big softy.” Her comment came as Amanda, Constanze, and Maxwell made for the office at a casual, yet dutiful pace. </p><p> </p><p>“H-How long did you know him?” Asked Lotte. </p><p> </p><p>“My mum knew him from back in the day when my family lived up north in Glasgow.” Harper started reminiscing, though not about those days in specific. “I was too young to remember him, but he apparently knew my grandmother, and taught her and my mum druidry.” Meanwhile, she grew up to be more interested in crystals, like the very ones that were now keeping the lights and heating on in Porthcurno. “He visited me a few times after I moved to London, though he never stayed long.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Click. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The office the Balefire members entered locked shut from within, prompting Lotte to step forward, “O-Oh! I should p-probably go….” Only for her to trail off mid sentence and take a step back. “Actually… it’s… probably not meant for me.” The meeting, that is. </p><p> </p><p>Harper raised a brow, sensing Lotte’s discomfort. “If you’d want to help out, I’d be more than happy to show you how we’re running things around here.” </p><p> </p><p>Lotte looked up to Harper with slight apprehension. “You wouldn’t mind?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course not!” Harper turned about casually and motioned for Lotte to follow. “Besides, I bet Maxwell’s just going to talk their ears off about the same things anyway. I’ll save you the trouble of sitting through his ramble and give you the rundown myself.” </p><p> </p><p>A smile crept across Lotte’s face as she gladly followed. “Thank you!” Despite her outward bubbliness, she was internally groaning. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “And under the list of newly discovered invertebrates goes…!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> “Ohh! Shut up!” </em>She was getting tired of feeling like a magnet for everyone’s pity. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“What do you mean,” Amanda put her palms flat against the table. “He wasn’t there?” She stood directly across from a distraught Maxwell, and beside her equally distraught sister. </p><p> </p><p>“I mean it! I went back to go figure out what had happened, and then poof!” Maxwell flicked his wrists upward and conjured a magical fizzle. “Nothing! No Asgall, no strange witches, no vampires, nothing.”</p><p> </p><p>“So, what? Is he dead?” Amanda didn’t seem all that concerned given the whole “technically immortal” part. “Did he take those creeps with him? Come on, there’s gotta be some sorta lead here!” But this demanded an answer.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze leaned forward and wagged her pen at Maxwell. “Any evidence? Blood? Signs of struggle? Residual arcane energies?” </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell held his head in both hands and shook it. “No…. Sadly no….. The vampires fled, that much I know for sure, but Asgall and the witches? They may as well have blinked right out of existence.” He let them fall wearily to the table. “Asgall’s coffin was empty when I checked it. Usually, when he dies, a large pile of dust will appear in there.” It was from that pile of dust that his body rejuvenated, like a phoenix, but with far more teeth. “So he must still be alive <em> somewhere </em>.” And Nine willing, he was keeping those strange witches busy. Sadly for the reclaimers, irony wasn’t working in their favor. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze sighed and retracted her lean. “What about the Fae?” </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell sputtered his lips and put his left hand on his neck as he slouched forward. “They were there, thank the Nine.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze didn’t let herself feel relieved just yet. “Were they alright?” </p><p> </p><p>“Well… eventually.” Maxwell stroked his salt and pepper beard like a wizened miner. “We had to commit fifteen of them to the planes….”</p><p> </p><p>“As in…?” Amanda rolled her right wrist in a circle. </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell locked eyes with the young hunter. “They’re dead, Amanda.” He set his hands in his lap and laid back in his chair. “We did what we could, me and the ones who hadn’t gone mad, but some of them were already dead; felled by their kin or by the Bathorys….” Amanda wiped her face mournfully and clicked her tongue while Constanze blew air from her cheek. “Half of them were still tearing at each other's throats, but I managed to figure out the right kind of counterspell to… to calm them down.” </p><p> </p><p>The sisters were quick to perk up then. “You mean you got them back to normal!?” Amanda tensed up and leaned forward. </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell's answer came louder than expected: “After about ten failed attempts and nearly three close calls with death later!” He paused and formed fists in his laps. He took a slow breath before continuing. “My apologies…. I’ve just never run into any sort of spell like that one….” He was careful to mind his humors from there on out. “Enraging spells? Sure, yes, they exist, of course…. But this was different.” The way that last word rolled off his tongue felt different too. Wrong even, despite the lack of intended emphasis.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze wasn’t about to let it lie. “Different… how?” </p><p> </p><p>“Different like…. Ahhh.” Maxwell never really thought of himself as a real teacher when it came to magic. He was knowledgeable on the arcane and its history, sure, but most things his age were like that. He wasn’t “academic,” so to speak. Magic, outside of ritual practice, was all “feelings” and “volitions” that came to him, and from within him. “How do I put it….” And the volition he felt when looking into the eyes of those frothing Fae was the ontological definition of <em> rage </em> , of <em> hatred </em> , of <em> loathing </em>, though the target of their ire was…. “If they could have killed everything and then themselves, they would have.” Constanze thumbed the inside of her cheek with her tongue. She really wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Maxwell could tell: “Imagine…. Hmm….” Describing this in non-romantic terms almost seemed impossible, and not just because he had a penchant for poetry. “It was something primal about them.”</p><p> </p><p>“Like… a rabid animal?” Remarked Amanda. </p><p> </p><p>“No, no, no!” Maxwell waved his hands in thorough dismission of that notion. “They’re Fae for Nine’s sake, not animals!” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda threw her hands up by her chest. “I wasn’t trying to offend nobody. You’re the one that said they seemed primal or whatever.”</p><p> </p><p>“It was a bad choice of words, I admit.” He pinched the bridge of his nose trying to fix it. “It was old. It was an <em> old </em> emotion. Olde even.” Neither sister caught the distinction, but in a way, neither did Maxwell. “It was instinctual, yes, but not <em> base </em>, if that makes any sense.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze slowly nodded as she began to pace. Her right hand went to her chin and began to tap at it rhythmically; the chains attached to her hammer kept the beat. “They were thinking.” Upon the first rotation of her pacing, the hammer caught Maxwell’s eye. It’s unnatural gleam bedazzled him with a sparkle that came from the otherwise unimpressive fluorescence of the room. “But they weren’t thinking <em> clearly </em>.” She turned her head toward Maxwell and found him staring. She snapped her fingers once to grab his attention, assuming he was tired.</p><p> </p><p>“W-What?” Maxwell blinked, and Constanze turned her body about again. The glimmer was gone; the light was off the hammer. “Er, yes, yes, I’d say that you’ve the right of it.” He gave a reassuring nod. “In fact, based on what they told me after they came to, they weren’t even thinking <em> their own thoughts </em>. They said it was like something else was thinking for them.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda shifted her jaw to the left as she thought on the evidence. “Thinking… for them?” It was hard to conceptualize at first until she remembered that <em> dread </em> she experienced when she first encountered those strange witches. The scream, worse than any banshee wail, and the visage of the mutated horror that was The Witch In Black; they left her and all present with a creeping, unnatural, and deeply disturbing feeling. The sensations had long since left their immediate minds, but if Amanda thought hard enough about it, she would begin to hear it again, distant at first, but then closer, and closer. Her eyes fluttered as she flexed her fingers. In between the blinks, she saw her, it, the insectoid creature, its chittering maws judging, reviling, and analyzing her all at once. She blinked one final time and shut the image from her mind, and so it faded with the false ringing in her ears, and the weight in her gut. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda then cleared her throat and stuffed her hands in her pockets; better to act as if all was well. “I think I might know why.” Maxwell and Constanze both gave pause, affording Amanda their attention. “When we first ran into those witches, before the dome and everything, they let out a kind of… scream.” Maxwell cocked a brow while Constanze quizzically reached for her pen and pad in order to take notes. “For one, it hurt like hell, but more importantly, it… it made us feel all wrong. Me, Hannah, Barbara, and all the professors and Antiquarians that were flyin’ with us.” </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell steepled his hands and rested his elbows on the desk. “And you think that they’re using a similar kind of magic to control the Fae?” </p><p> </p><p>“Honestly,” Amanda shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, but I do know that they’re capable of making you feel things that aren’t… yours….” The dread, the sorrow, the all consuming bleakness, Amanda knew it all to not be her own, but from the witches themselves. It had to be! Constanze paused in her notetaking, prompting Amanda to explain that comment further with a tilt of her head. “It was like they took a damn screwdriver and shoved the feeling into my head.” Amanda put two fingers to her forehead for emphasis. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmm.” Constanze nodded and took that down alongside her other notes about the Nine, the sanctum, and of course the other details about those strange witches. She felt it was imperative to gather as much info as she could and catalogue it so she could leave the real detective work to Lotte. “What do you think?” She turned her head toward Maxwell.</p><p> </p><p>“I think it’s plausible.” He leaned his head back against the chair. “But it’d mean we’re dealing not only with eld witches, but <em> sympaths </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda squeaked a chair over and sat herself down on it backward, resting her arms on the top and back of it. “Sympaths?”</p><p> </p><p>“The opposite of empaths.” Maxwell shifted in his seat and reached for his staff. Once it was grasped firmly in his right hand, he carefully tilted and shook it at Amanda while mouthing an arcane word. <em> “Zhuara.” </em>The gnarled staff suddenly flashed a white light, much like a camera taking a photo. It briefly blinded both sisters, forcing them to rub their eyes, though Amanda slowly stopped soon after she began. She was experiencing something, the sensation of… cold? Cold on her hands. Someone was touching her hands, like in a handshake, but she wasn’t anywhere close to making such a gesture or motion, and when she blinked her eyes clear, she saw that nothing had changed in the office. Words flooded her mind as if being spoken to her. They were alien, she had no recollection of hearing them elsewhere, but they felt familiar, or old even, as in, having been spoken in the past; a memory! And the voice, the voice was familiar to, not just in the strange sense of an outside memory, but because it sounded like Asgall! </p><p> </p><p>He sounded a bit gruffer, <em> dustier </em> perhaps. <em> “It is my pleasure to meet you, young Maxwell.” </em> His claws gently scraped the back of Amanda’s right hand, like how a cat might accidentally scratch its owner. <em> “I can see you have… not been warned of my visage….” </em>Rigidity. Amanda’s body felt rigid. She was frozen in fear, but not in the present, in another life, another time and place. </p><p> </p><p>Asgall, from the past, tutted. <em> “If it would please you, initiate, have a seat….” </em> The voice began to fade, growing distant. <em>  “We have much to discuss….” </em>Until it vanished from her mind entirely. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda looked Maxwell in the eye, her own wide with confusion. “What the fuck was that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmmmmm?” Constanze had only just recovered from the flash. <em> “Why did you blind us?” </em></p><p> </p><p>“That,” Remarked Maxwell with a knowing-old-man smile, “Was a spell of Sympathic magic.” He set his staff aside then, letting it lean against his chair. “It’s a type of magic that lets you project your feelings, memories, and sensations onto others. Empathic magic, on the other hand, lets you feel other people’s emotions, feelings…” He rolled his right wrist in a slow circle. “You get the idea.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda slowly pulled away from the back of her chair and gripped it at arms length. “So you’re saying they used that kind magic—”</p><p> </p><p>Maxwell raised a finger. “With <em> far </em> more power and skill, mind you.” </p><p> </p><p>“—To make the Fae feel something they felt?” </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell nodded. “Aye.”</p><p> </p><p> Amanda’s face contorted in suspicion. It made sense, given what she experienced, but she didn’t want to believe it. Constanze had a terrible hunch though. “Maxwell.” Her tone was flat, more serious now.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes?” He was forced to wait a moment while Constanze wrote out her reply on her pad. </p><p> </p><p>“Can Sympaths make people experience emotions or memories that they themselves never experienced?” She circled the question for good measure. </p><p> </p><p>“Not… to my knowledge, no.” Maxwell shook his head. “But we’re dealing with witches dabbling with eld powers here: There’s no mistaking it now. We saw what they were capable of. It's otherworldly magic they’re using, and that kind of magic doesn’t play by our rules.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze set aside her pen and covered her mouth. She scrunched her face up in thought and turned her gaze up and to the right. Her eyes fell on the clock above the door for no particular reason, and she contemplated what they’d seen to her tune kept in line by the metronomic clicking of the clock. “That…” She began aloud, muffled at first behind her own hand. “Leaves two options.” She turned on her heel and faced the others again, dropping the hand from her mouth to gesture with it. “One,” She raised a finger. “They hate us for no reason.” Maxwell pursed his lips and leaned in while Amanda audibly “huh’d.” Constanze continued, raising another finger. “Or two, they hate us for <em> a very good reason </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>“Woah, woah, woah, back up.” Amanda stood up from her chair and squarely faced her sister. “How the hell do you figure that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Simple.” Constanze put her hands behind her back and sighed heavily. “They can’t project unreal emotions. They had to feel them at some point. Right?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah….” Amanda nodded along.</p><p> </p><p>“You felt dread. Despair. Sadness. Anything else?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda bit her tongue lightly. “Anger… I guess? I dunno, it’s been a while.” She rubbed the back of her head. “I just know that it damn near put us all unconscious it was so intense.”  </p><p> </p><p>Constanze nodded firmly and turned her attention to Maxwell. “Means they had to experience extreme emotions to be able to do that. They went through something <em> terrible </em>.” Maxwell was starting to see where this was going; his eyes widened. “Now they’re here. Luna Nova.” </p><p> </p><p>“So, what,” Amanda opened her posture wide. “You think something terrible happened to them at Luna Nova?” </p><p> </p><p>“Maybe.” Constanze really couldn’t say for sure. “Could be something else. Could be related. Could be a specific witch.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well I know I never saw em before this stuff went down!” Amanda crossed her arms about her chest.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze rolled her eyes and stepped closer, imploring her sister. “Think about it. Has to be a motive.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, and their motive could be that they’re seriously fucked up and don’t give a damn!” Amanda honestly didn’t care. </p><p> </p><p>“Unlikely.” Constanze shook her head firmly. “Why go to all this trouble? Why attack a school? Why Luna Nova specifically?” It didn’t add up, none of the reasoning did; not <em> yet </em> anyway.</p><p> </p><p>“Probably because those Bathory freaks told them to do it.” Amanda wished things were that simple.</p><p> </p><p>Maxwell rose from his seat with a grunt of effort. “Now… oof. Amanda, consider this:” Amanda and Constanze both glanced over at the elder witch. “The Bathorys weren’t well known to employ sorcerers. They kept necromancers about, apothecarians, the like you’d expect around undead sorts, but nothing like this.” He leaned against his staff for support. “And they especially wouldn’t employ them like agents. It was always the knights that did Elizabeth’s dirty work in the field. Their magicians were always kept in reserve.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze snapped her fingers and prodded Amanda’s arm. “Means they’re a third party.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda sighed, throwing her arms out wide. “Aaaaand what does that have to do with anything?” Neither responded immediately. Amanda scoffed. “Look, I get that you’re all wound up over why things have been batshit crazy,” Pun not intended. “But what’s more important? Kicking their asses to the curb and saving the school, or figuring out why they’re here in the first place?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not the point.” Replied Constanze hastily. “Could be worse than it looks. <em> Bigger </em> than it looks.” She was never a woman for conspiracies, but, well, this all was might suspicious. “Too dangerous not to investigate. They might get away. They could attack again.” </p><p> </p><p>“Not only that,” Added Maxwell. “But if we hope to defeat them here and now, then we’ll want to know everything we can.” He’d always been a “know thy enemy” sort of hunter, always busy with books and research. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda sucked in her lips and tapped her foot for a few moments until she finally relented. “Alright, fine. I guess it makes sense.” Though it also welcomed an uncomfortable thought into Amanda’s mind. If the strange witches had a good reason for being as angry and dreadful as they were, then did that make <em> them </em> the “good guys,” so to speak? <em> “Fuck that.” </em> Certainly not in Amanda’s mind. <em> “They’re getting teens killed! Kids are dying out there!” </em> An unforgivable crime in her eyes. <em> “And that’s just Luna Nova!” </em> The news reports; the devastation across Southern England and Northern France. It was a campaign of unbridled terror. <em> I could care less why anymore! They gave up their right to anyone giving a shit!” </em> But doubt yet remained, a titular question that would haunt her and her friends for some time: If it was suffering that “made” them do what they’re doing, then who, or what, made them suffer so viciously? </p><p> </p><p>Amanda wasn’t the only one to think. Maxwell and Constanze had it in their minds too. The possibilities quieted them, leaving them to hypothesize and guess. A collective shiver ran up their spines and set them back on track. “Regardless,” Began Maxwell. “It’s good that we’ve solved that at least.” He paused briefly. “The Sympath part, I mean.” Constanze and Amanda looked to him quizzically. “It’s no wonder why it took me ten tries to dispel it: I was tackling it like a more typical spell.” He tapped his staff against the floor twice. “But now I know what we’re really dealing with. I can look into a more effective counterspell.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze wrinkled her nose before reaching for her pen and pad. “What about the one that eventually worked?” She wrote. </p><p> </p><p>“It was a <em> very particular </em> dispel that undid it.” Maxwell idly brushed a bit of dust off of the top of his staff. “It takes nearly half an hour to cast, and I couldn’t be interrupted.” Which he was, several times, until the sane Fae were able to properly restrain and subdue their maddened kin. “We need something simpler. Something punchier.” He began to round the desk casually. “I’ll look into that on my own time. Starting tomorrow, we have three days at best to make a move. For now, I’d like to ask—”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda held up a halting hand. “Hold up. Three days?” It was so much time, “How do you know we got three days?” And so little time all at once.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze tapped at her notepad thrice. “Did you hear about the naval operation? We might have less time than you think.” </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell blinked. “Yes,I’ve heard.” He cleared his throat and continued when Amanda put her hand down by her hip. “We’ve set up an old radio to try and track that sort of information…. It’s been hit or miss, but we know that the current estimate is somewhere in the three day range.” An intercepted transmission from a reconnaissance team gave them that nugget of information. “I was worried you two might not make it here by then, but I’m happy to have my fears be proven wrong.” A smile formed on his lips. “And I’m curious too: I saw your hammer, Constanze.” He pointed casually to her belt, prompting Constanze to look down and smile. “Is that mithril?” </p><p> </p><p>“Mhm.” Constanze pulled it off of the loop with ease and raised it up. From the very bottom of the handle, the chain kept it connected to her person. “Family heirloom.” She slowly twisted it, showing off the engraved names. Maxwell leaned in to inspect them more carefully. His eyes widened with pride as he spotted Constanze’s own name on the hilt.</p><p> </p><p>“By Vaal’s anvil, what a find!” The volume of names spoke to its history. “Where did you get it?” Maxwell <em> had </em> to know the story in full.</p><p> </p><p>“Ludinghal.” Constanze’s grip tightened around the hammer, but not out of anger. She squeezed it like the hand of a dear friend, holding it close to her chest. “Went there to see if I could figure out how to repair Dyrnwyn and Carnwennan.” </p><p> </p><p>“Did you succeed!?” Maxwell stepped closer, looked Constanze in the eye, and watched as she nodded proudly. “Haha!” He did a little jig, kicking his feet together in a haphazard but gleeful fashion. “I knew you could do it Constanze!” He threw his arms wide as an invitation, one which Constanze accepted without hesitation. Amanda smiled as the two embraced one another, all while Maxwell giddily chuckled. News like this was miraculous to him; it made him feel decades younger, and brought back his spritely enthusiasm. After a few moments, they parted again, leaving Maxwell to flit his gaze between the two reclaimers. “Please, bring them to me! Bring them!” He gestured as if beckoning. “Work that fine deserves to be admired!” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze shot Amanda a grin and gave her a nod. Amanda returned with a grin of her own as she quick-drew Carnwennan from her belt like some sort of gunslinger. She merged it with her wand in another quick motion, and then pointed the dagger at Maxwell. From there she flipped it to catch the point of the blade, before she tossed it high into the air so she could teleport a short distance upward, catch the blade on the way down, and land firmly on her feet, dispersing the shadowy cloud she made as she hit the floor in a low crouch. Maybe the cowboy comparison wasn’t so off on Mrs. J’s part. “Boom.” Amanda rose up from the squat, bowed, and held her knife wielding hand out, being sure to offer it handle first. “Read it and weep Maxy.”</p><p> </p><p>Maxwell watched like he’d been seeing magic happen before his very eyes for the first time! His eyes couldn’t be torn from the dagger, and when it was offered, he forgot to breathe. He reached for it as if it were the tiniest glass flower, and took it in his hands as if any movement he made could crack it. “By the Nine….” The weight was precise, the blade unknicked, clean, sharp, and the grip comfortable, but hard to slip off of. A tear formed in Maxwell’s eye. “It’s beautiful.” He did his best to sound stoic, but failed miserably. </p><p> </p><p>“Oi, oi, I was just kidding.” Amanda didn’t want Maxwell to <em> actually </em> start weeping, but Constanze certainly seemed to be indulging it. After all, what greater praise could an artisan get from their work outside of the tears of those who beheld it. </p><p> </p><p>“Apologies.” Maxwell wiped his left eye. “But… you’ve both come so far in so little time….” He struggled to keep his breath steady. A sniffle escaped him. “It gives me hope I never thought I’d be able to have again.” His hands tightened around Carnwennan as he took a deep breath. “First you join the order, and now you present me with relics of our past, reforged by the art our order was built on?” His face slowly turned up to meet the sentimental gazes of the younger witches; no, his <em> friends </em>. Constanze could hardly contain her splendor as she fidgeted in place. She felt like how Akko did twenty-four-seven, but the feeling wouldn’t last long as Maxwell’s eyes went elsewhere; he seemed confused. “W-Wait, where’s Dyrnwyn?” Amanda felt something catch in her throat.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze cocked her head, looked to Amanda, examined her hips, and hummed. “Don’t have it?” It took a moment to force it down all the way. </p><p> </p><p>“Ahem, yeah, uh, I felt like it’d be kinda awkward to carry around everywhere….” A somewhat blatant lie, one she couldn’t get away from anymore. “I’ll go get it, but, uh, sis,” Constanze leaned back a tad as Amanda stuffed her hands in her own pockets. “Would you mind if I talked about it with Maxwell?” She sounded serious, a bit downtrodden, but purposeful nonetheless. “A-Alone, I mean.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze’s flattering smile returned; it was warmer now, sisterly even. “Mm-mm.” She shook her head, <em> “I don’t mind.” </em> and then gestured with an open palm. “Mmmmm mmmmm?” She put her hammer back on her belt but kept a hand on it. <em> “Is it about Jehanne?”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Amanda sighed and nodded. “Yeah…. Yeah, it is.” She worked up the energy to put on a false smile, if only to placate Constanze. “I know I said I’d do this on my own, but for something like this, I need Maxwell to help make sense of it, you know?” Constanze gave a thumbs up. It was enough to make that fake smile a little more genuine. “Thanks for understanding, Conz.” </p><p> </p><p>“Mhm.” A long moment passed as their loving gazes lingered on one another, granting them both strength and peace of mind.</p><p> </p><p>“S-Sorry to interrupt the heartfelt moment,” Though it couldn’t last forever. “But I’m not really sure <em> what </em> it is you’re talking about.” Or what it had to do with Dyrnwyn. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda and Constanze both snapped to attention. The former spoke up first. “I’ll explain in a minute, but for now, just know that it’s about something Jehanne said to me.” She rolled her shoulders a bit awkwardly. “Something I’m having a hard time making sense of.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ahhhh….” Maxwell straightened his back out, handed Carnwennan over to Amanda, and kept himself upright with both hands on his staff. “I’ll be more than happy to be of service.” Amanda casually slid the shadow blade back into its sheath, dispelling the little swirling smoke cloud that followed wherever it went, and then crossed her arms. “In the meantime though, Constanze.” The initiate witch-smith stood at the ready. “If you’ve the energy to do it tonight, I’d head down to the police station. It’s where we’ve been keeping the weapons we’ve either scrounged up or had brought in from the outside.” His road trip around England hadn’t been for naught after all, and not just because he met Amanda and Constanze at the end of it. “Some of them are broken beyond repair….” A grin formed on Maxwell’s face. “But that hardly means anythin’ to a witch-smith such as yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze formed her hands into fists and took on a determined look. “Mmm!” She pumped them by her waist. </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell wrapped his staff once against the floor. “I knew I could count on you!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll need help. Supplies. Space. Tools.” Constanze’s mind was already running through the logistics of it all. “Where can I get those?”</p><p> </p><p>Maxwell gestured off toward nothing in particular. “Go ask around for the Taylor family. They help run the local carpenters and metalworkers unions. Without folks like them, we’d never be able to keep up the repairs like we have been, magic or no.” </p><p> </p><p>“Taylors. Unions. Got it.” Constanze snatched her pen and pad up to take more notes on a separate page. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh! For parts, you should head to the junkyard! It’s a ways north of here, but I’m certain you’ll be able to find some witches and locals who could help you make a few runs there and back.” </p><p> </p><p>“Mhm.” Constanze scribbled it out before she gave the two of them a quick nod in farewell and started for the door. </p><p> </p><p>“Oi,” Constanze halted mid stride and looked over her shoulder. “Stay safe out there Conz.” Amanda gave her a two fingered salute. “Good luck.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmm.” Constanze cracked a half smile and returned the gesture. <em> “Likewise.” </em>That was enough pleasantries! There was work to be done! People to be armed! The weapons wouldn’t make themselves! Constanze faced the door again and let her determination drive her forward. She walked out of the room to the tune of her labor, closing the door in line with the beat, leaving Maxwell and Amanda to their talk. </p><p> </p><p>The former of the two was eager to hear the latter out, and so he turned to face Amanda with curious yet ever hard eyes. “Now,” He rounded the table once more to take his seat. “You said Jehanne had said something to you?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda nodded, took her hands out of her jacket, and spun her backward chair right around to sit in properly. “A lot, actually,” Well, mostly properly. Her posture was still bad as always. “But, before I get to that, I just wanted to ask….”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda let her eyes fall to the desk. “It’s probably a dumb question, but there’s not point in dancin’ around it.” She clicked her tongue thoughtfully and held her hands together between her legs. “After what happened with Asgall, the third trial and all…. Do you think we’re ready for this?” She paused before reiterating, using the words she <em> really </em> needed to. “I mean, do you trust me?” Her left foot began to tap against the floor.</p><p> </p><p>“Do I… trust you?” Maxwell’s expression softed. He held his chin with one hand as the other kept his staff upright. “Trust you to do what?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda forced herself to meet his hard but warm gaze. “Do you trust me to keep those oaths I made to Jehanne?” </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell looked puzzled “Well, I’ll need to know <em> why </em> you think I wouldn’t trust you in the first place.”</p><p> </p><p>“I already told you!” Amanda’s left foot tapping quickened in pace. “It was that stupid third trial and all of the other—” She stopped herself there and groaned. Maxwell seemed puzzled by her tension, failing to un“Ugh, look, there’s a <em> lot </em> of things that have me second guessing myself right now.” </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell raised a brow and quirked his head forward. “Truly?” Amanda nodded. “Hmmm….” Maxwell leaned back and drummed the tips of his fingers together idly. “And do you think what Jehanne said to you had anything to do with those problems of yours?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda’s eyes briefly fell to her lap. <em> “Amanda O’Neill….” </em> The words and memory were as clear as day. <em> “It is you who is your own worst enemy!” </em>Though part of her still wished it wasn’t. The rest of her forced her to shake off the hesitation. It would get her nowhere, and she wasn’t about to back down and away from her vows a second time. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah….” She nodded slowly. “Yeah, they were.” She kept her head in place while glancing up at Maxwell, catching his eye. “All of it was.” Regret and resentment welled in her throat. She wanted to say something vicious about herself, but managed to keep herself from needless self-flagellation. “I just wish I realized it sooner.”</p><p> </p><p>Maxwell’s hands parted as he shrugged, showing his palms. “If that’s the case,” Then he clapped them back together. “Then you’ll just have to tell me everything she told you.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda’s head shot up at the request. “You gotta be kidding me.” She looked exhausted already.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, if <em> everything </em> she said was relevant to your doubts, then I’ll need to know <em> everything </em> she said.” Maxwell kept a firm but warm air about him. “If you want me to really help you, that is.”</p><p> </p><p>The two shared a long moment staring at one another. Eventually, Amanda’s reluctance gave way to her sense of duty. “Fine….” And to spite. “I’ll do it.” She couldn’t turn back now, even if going over the details wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience. “But this is the last time I’m explaining this shit until we’ve saved the school, got it?” Maxwell nodded sagely. “Alright…” She took a deep breath, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “So you know how it starts right? Down in the sanctum….”</p><p> </p><p>It was going to be a long night.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Meanwhile…. </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> “Ansel…!” </em> A voice from beyond called out to the labyrinthian void of Castle Bathory. <em> “Ansel…!” </em> It echoed down every corridor, but was inaudible to all but one. <em> “Ansel! Can you hear me!?” </em> All but one singular camera. <em> “ANSEL!” </em> </p><p> </p><p>Like awakening from a nightmare, Ansel’s singular eye fluttered open. It was awake, though it never knew if it ever slept or not. Concepts such as sleep, dreaming, awakeness, they were meaningless to Rust Fae. Everything was a continuous stream of sensory overload and deprivation. The wind was cold but it never bit. The sun was hot but never did it swelter. And the surfaces of the world were both rough, smooth, hard, and soft all at once. It was all superfluous. The ticking remained. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick….  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>So long as there was ticking, then there was existence. </p><p> </p><p>Little gears and gizmos cranked to life. Ansel’s back cartridge opened, allowing its questionably organic wings to spread out and stretch. It felt cramped, isolated. This place was unfamiliar, and it had been inactive for quite some time. The room was dark at first, but Ansel had its ways. A mere flutter of its camera shutters saw the lenses swap, even if there was no logical room for such a mechanism to exist within the camera-creature. <em> Now </em> it could see clearly, though everything was white and grey, with seldom shades of black thrown in at the darkest of shadows and surfaces. Ansel was in a room, one of untold hundreds, one belonging to a knight of the Bathorys who claimed it as a trophy. It sat atop a cupboard, or perhaps a dresser, beside various other pieces of bric-a-bac; the spoils of wars won over the ages. They were Macabre trinkets mostly, and while some of them used to be alive, or used to be a part of something that was formerly living, Ansel remained as the only truly living thing in the room. Well, except the family of rats Ansel’s night-vision lens caught sneaking about under the dramatically gothic bed. There was so much to see in such a short amount of— </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Ansel! Please!”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>There it was again! The voice that roused Ansel from its non-sleep! </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Anseeeel!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Distant, obtusely so, but within reach. Ansel needed to go. Ansel <em> knew </em> it needed to go. Things had gotten bad. <em> Very </em> bad. Bad in ways Ansel didn’t understand. It saw the world differently, in a literal sense, but also in a psychological way. It was a camera, a sentient bloody camera, but even to a literal, animated, photographic tool, it knew that this was a bad place to be. It flitted to the air like a butterfly, scanning the room with the frantic movements of the least aerodynamic hummingbird ever conceived, yet still, it stayed afloat. Ansel looked over every piece of furnishing with the calculating and methodical nature of a computer, but imagined them in strange ways. </p><p> </p><p>It saw the door, flashed its shutters, and saw it open. It imagined the weight required to open it in terms of force. Factors of wind. The strength of the lock that it took an extra moment to realize hindered its path. No good; it needed another way. Up around, down, left and right, there were no good paths. The room was sturdy in construction, and compact in shape, leaving little room for escape. Another rat scurried by on the floor, running off to Nine knew where. Ansel caught a picture of it, studied it, and floated in a deep contemplation. </p><p> </p><p>It came from the left, from under the bed, scurried along the ground for three point four seconds, and then reached the door leading out where it was now munching on a crumb of food. This demanded further investigation. Ansel opened its lense wide, extended it outward with a mechanical whirr, and then descended to the floor. It made a daring swoop under the bed and caught sight of what it had hoped and predicted: A hole in the wall, dug in through the wood supports by the rats, and it was big enough for Ansel to fit into. More importantly, if there was one entrance, there would be many.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Ansel, please! I need help!”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The voice. It made Ansel’s… heart? No, not its heart. Soul? No, the debate was still out if Rust Fae even had souls. In it’s gears. Yes, in it’s grinding gears and plastic “bones,” it felt a pang of sorrow, longing, fear. The emotions didn’t disturb Ansel; it was always feeling at least two of those things, even if it was in a <em> vastly </em>different way. What did disturb Ansel was the familiar of the voice. A friend, a mother, a companion, compatriot, comrade; the thing which gave the rust purpose, it was in danger, just like Ansel was!</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Ansel! Hurry up! We don’t have much time!”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And just as the purpose-giver said, time was of the essence. Rats and their home be damned, there was something Ansel needed to do! It fluttered back, as if getting a running start, and then shot forward like the most bothersome of mosquitos, the kind you could <em> never quite catch </em> when swatting at it. Into the darkness it went, and even with the aid of its special lens, Ansel couldn’t see much. Sharp corners and pitfalls came at random, and Ansel only barely managed to avoid them. Where was Ansel going?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Hurry!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Ansel didn’t know, but Ansel didn’t need to know. It would get its question when it got there, wherever “there” was. It followed the voice, the echoing, the vibrations, the faint trail of sparkling arcane energies that were now leading it along the winding ratways of Castle Bathory, all toward the dungeons where Joanna and the other witches lay in waiting. That was it! Joanna! Joanna was the name of the purpose-giver! Ansel remembered it now as one of the few non-alien thoughts it had about humans. Joanna was calling to it, and it would do anything to help her. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “You’re getting closer! Turn left!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Left Ansel went!</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Now right!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Then right! Then left and down and left again! Whoever designed this castle was mad, but at least Ansel didn’t need to think about its construction. Even if it did, a rust-bound thing such as it might <em> actually </em> have a chance at fully understanding it. The stone would speak its story, the wood would creak and cry their lamentations until they became moldy and bug-eaten. And the metal hinges on the doors would moan dirges of desire to the aeons as rust took them as well. Yes, there was a kind of method to this mad house, but not one Ansel cared to know. It tried to focus on the journey instead of letting its mind wander. More corners, more turns, but it could tell that it was decidedly descending deeper into the castle. That was where Joanna was, where Ansel needed to be. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Keep going, Ansel! You’re almost there!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Minutes past as Ansel flew like a bat out of hell, its impish wings carrying it as quickly as it could, until it came upon a distant light up ahead a long stretch. A hole in the wood, another way for the rats to get around, was lit up by some sort of fixture outside of Ansel’s view. It took a seemingly random picture and analyzed it in the time between arriving at the hole and passing it by entirely. Ansel perceived beyond the corridor in the wood, and saw the greater corridor beyond, the one made of stone. It was a hallway that terminated with a cast iron door with bars at the top, bars with enough spacing in between for Ansel to barely squeeze by. The light sources were torches that sat above the hole in sconces. They were dimly lit, barely even serving a purpose to any but the most poorly adjusted dark-dwellers; it was basically for looks. The way as clear though, Ansel could imagine no obstacles. No vampire nor beast stood—That was wrong. <em> A </em>beast stood before it. Huge, gnarly looking, flea bitten, mouth full of sharp teeth, and paws made for scratching!</p><p> </p><p>A rat. It was a giant rat. Giant by rat standards at least, and by camera standards too. Ansel didn’t recognize it at first as it loomed down at the end of the tunnel, hiding amongst the shadows. A second glance over of the photo it made in its mind allowed Ansel to spot it by its bright red eyes. In a moment though, Ansel wouldn’t need a picture to see it coming, for the rat was bounding toward it with a territorial imperative! How does a rat attack a camera? With wanton abandon of course! A headbutt would serve it just as well as a bite against Ansel, and there was nowhere to run; the rat was faster! With no time to maneuver around it, Ansel was forced to flap its wings furiously in an attempt to reverse its forward momentum. It was all for naught as the rat barrelled right into Ansel, knocking the animed camera up into the roof of the tunnel, stunning it as the shutters on its eye flashed over and over again, swapping out lenses in a dizzied glare. Ansel unceremoniously clattered to the floor, its wings twitching, and its singular iris spinning in a circle while faced up at the ceiling.</p><p> </p><p>The rat wasn’t finished though, and so it clambered over, putting itself part-way on top of Ansel so it could look down at the eye. Every fiber of its ratty brain told it: <em> “EYE MEANS MEAT. WINGS MEAN MEAT. MEAT MEANS FOOD.” </em> The rat salivated, dripping a gross droplet of its likely diseased spittle onto Ansel’s lens while baring its fangs to dig right into the juicy center of the eyeball that started to fixate on the beast above it. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Ansel, come on!” </em> Called Joanna. <em> “I’m past the door! You need to get past the door!”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Her words gave clarity to Ansel, allowing it to see clearly as the rat reared back for a killing lunge. Before it could strike though, Ansel made a move!</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> CLICK-FLASH! CLICK-FLASH! CLICK-FLASH! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> SCREEEACH! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The rat was blinded by the repeated assaults on its dark-sighted eyes! Ansel’s flashing was relentless! Once it rose up from the floor in a wobbly spurt of wings, it started approaching the rat while aggressively shuttering and flashing its lenses! The big rat screeched louder and louder, pawing desperately at its face before instinct got the better. It chose flight over fight and scampred backward, retreating as quickly as it could into the safety provided by the darker parts of the castle. As it turned tail and fled, Ansel let itself fall to the floor, landing on it’s back. Its singular eye held itself half open; is this feeling what Joanna would call “tired?” It was hard to say, but the gears and cranks and contraptions that kept the Rust Fae going started to feel sluggish and worn. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Tick…! Tick…! Tick…!  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The gears grinded together clumsily. The ticking threatened to stop. Ansel’s shutters slowly began to close.</p><p> </p><p><em>“Ansel!? Ansel! Are you ok!?”</em> Joanna couldn’t see what happened, she only sensed that her beloved camera had come to a standstill. “Oh god, don’t tell me!” She stretched her arm as far out of the cell as she could, holding on tightly to Valerie’s wrist.</p><p> </p><p>“What!? What happened!?” Hissed Valerie in a whispered tone. </p><p> </p><p>“Ansel’s not moving anymore!” Whispered back Joanna to everyone’s fear and dismay. </p><p> </p><p>“Well….” Valerie hesitated, tightening her grip on the flimsy twig in her hand. “Reach further! Maybe I’m holding the wand out too far.” It was a rudimentary thing, more of a splinter than an actual branch. It was barely even classifiable as a wand, but it would have to do. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m…!” Joana’s shoulder was practically caught in the bars, and her left cheek was pressing up against them in a most uncomfortable fashion. “Trying…!” She thought the castle was cold, but the iron bars of the cell gave her a whole new definition of freezing. Still, she persisted. “Come on! Come on!” Every word was rushed, and her heart thumped at incredible speed, just as the hearts of all the other witches did. The guard may have been asleep, just as they planned he would be, but they rightly suspected Vampires to be light sleepers given they didn’t really “need” it. </p><p> </p><p>“Did something happen to him?” Asked Wangari from over Joanna’s other shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know!” Joanna grunted and forced her fingers further. She could have sworn she got a centimeter closer to the wand. “I can… only sense him! I can’t see what he sees!” If only Valerie could pull it back by just a hair, then the connection could be more stable. Alas, Valerie’s arm was <em> just </em> long enough to reach out of the influence of the Null-Wards, and so Joanna pushed harder and harder until she felt her a dull pop, forcing her to recoil in pain. Kimberly and Hristina shuffled to her aid, holding her up as she hissed in pain with one hand clamping down on her tensed shoulder. “Ow! Ow! Cholery! Ow!”   She swore in Polish.</p><p> </p><p>Valerie reeled her arm back through the bars as everyone present both in their cell and in the cells across from them frowned despairingly. “Where is he? Is he coming?”</p><p> </p><p>Joanna shook her head. “He’s…! Hss! He’s not moving anymore!” The hearts of all present sank. They’d all been waiting impatiently for an opportunity like this to arise, and they weren’t sure if there’d be any other chances afterward. Wangari and a few other students had heard during one of the shift rotations that the Bathory’s forces were “being recalled,” under orders from Elizabeth herself. There was mention of some sort of “disagreement at court” that had some of the higher ranking nobles feeling distraught and suspicious, but they all refused to speak on it. Wangari remembered hearing something about a “Lord Zrinski” feeling quite “eager” about the “slaughter” that was to come; a battle that would soon take place at Luna Nova. If that wasn’t motivation enough to get Wangari and the gang moving, then she wasn’t sure what was. </p><p> </p><p>“Damnit!” Bridget dashed her hands to her lap as she knelt. “Now what are we going to do!?” She whispered frustratedly. </p><p> </p><p>Wangari checked the left and right side of the hallways; no sign of movement from the guard or of Ansel. “We try again! That’s what we do!”</p><p> </p><p>“B-B-But you heard J-Jo!” Said Hristina, who was on the brink of being hysterical. “Ansel’s not m-m-moving! H-How is he g-going to save us if he’s… he’s….” She couldn’t utter the “D” word. It would send into a sobbing fit. </p><p> </p><p>Wangari looked between the faces of all present. Only Valerie and Bridget seemed eager to try again. Joanna was in a bit too much pain to have an opinion, and Kimberly looked downtrodden and sullen. “He’s not dead!” Wangari finally argued. “Let’s all just… let’s just try again and see what happens!”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“We can’t do anything! It’s over!” Mary was curled up in a ball in the corner of the cell. “We’re done! Dead! Finished! We’re gonna end up like Gwen!” None had seen her since she was taken, unsurprisingly. </p><p> </p><p>“We are <em> not </em> gonna end up like Gwen!” Wangari raised her voice by just a hair to speak over the others. “There’s a way around this! There has to be!” She scanned the room, barely able to hide her anxiety. “We just need to take it slow and if things don’t work out….” Wangari could only imagine how sad Joanna would be if Ansel had been destroyed trying to save them. She took a moment to shake off the thought and refocus on her speech. “Then we’ll figure out a plan B!” </p><p> </p><p>Kim sighed, shaking her head. “Gari….” Wangari shifted her attention to her despondent friend. “I don’t think it’s happening.” </p><p> </p><p>“We can’t just give up!” Retorted Wangari. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m <em> not </em> giving up.” Chided Kim. “I’m facing the facts. We need to save our strength in case we get another chance to escape.” She shifted awkwardly to help apply pressure to Joanna’s shoulder, allowing her Polish friend to pop it back in. Joanna had something to say, but the immediately acute pain was just a bit too much for her, leaving her only able to hiss and whimper. Kimberly continued. “You said it yourself: There’s some sort of battle that’s gonna happen soon and we need to be ready to make a jailbreak when it does.”</p><p> </p><p>“But what if it’s too late by then?!” Cried Mary, earning her a hand over her mouth and a shush from Bridget for her volume. </p><p> </p><p>Everyone took a moment to peek out of the cell to check on the guard at the end of the hall. Luckily, he was still lazing against the wall, his arms crossed about his chest, and his armored legs crossed over one another. He seemed perfectly still, though Valerie could have sworn she saw his ears twitch. A collective sigh of relief escaped Yellow team’s cell after they confirmed their safety. “Ok… but she’s got a point.” Said Wangari while gesturing to Mary. “What if we can’t do anything by that point? What if they take us all away before the battle starts? What are we going to do then?”</p><p> </p><p>Kimberly inhaled sharply. “I don’t know what you expect out of a situation like this Gari, but it’s not going to end well either way!” The weight of the situation was getting to her, and she was a tad quick to anger. </p><p> </p><p>“What are you talking about?” Wangari sounded dejected now. Kimberly had almost always been right by her side, even when she disagreed. “I’m just trying to get us all out of here!”</p><p> </p><p>“But you <em> can’t </em> , Wangari! We can’t act like—” Kim’s anger quickly gave way to exhaustion. “I’m sorry….” She hated arguing about a problem when she could be fixing it, “But I can’t let myself get fooled, and I don’t want any of you getting blindsided by this either.” The cell got deathly quiet. “People we know are dead…. It’s…. We’re already not all making it out alive.” For Kimberly, facing the truth was the best way to cope with it. “So we might as well try and prepare ourselves for… well, the worst.” The wind was taken out of everyone’s sails, but Wangari especially looked crestfallen. Kimberly pursed her lips as she tried to keep everyone in a sound state of mind. “I’m not trying to kick us while we’re down. I’m trying to make sure we aren’t surprised when things get worse, because <em> that’s </em> what’s going to make us give up.” She relinquished Joanna as the Polish witch regained her stability and senses. “I just want us to be careful, ok?” Kimberly reached out and took Wangari by the hand and squeezed it firmly, sending a shiver up Wangari’s spine, one she did her best to ignore.</p><p> </p><p>The two looked at each other for a long moment before Wangari spoke up. “I know.” Grim resignation, a rare thing for Wangari to ever feel, colored her voice. “I know that we’re not invincible,” She always knew, deep down. “But come on, Kim,” She leaned in to whisper so that only she and her friend could hear one another. “You know this is how I deal with things like this.”</p><p> </p><p>Kimberly slowly closed and then opened her eyes. She gave a nod. “I do… but not everyone else does.” Her whisper was just as quiet and careful as Wangari’s. “Not everyone’s like you and Akko. They can’t just ignore what’s going on around them and hope for the best.”</p><p> </p><p>“I-I’m not ignoring it!” Retorted Wangari. </p><p> </p><p>“Ok, I guess that was a bad way to put it,” Kimberly sighed. “But you get my point.” </p><p> </p><p>Wangari felt all of the tension in her face fall away then. “Yeah, I do….” She didn’t seem satisfied though. “But if we don’t find a way to get out of here before this attack that’s supposed to happen, then we’re as good as dead.” Kimberly’s gaze shifted sidelong as she sized up the claim. “Think about it: If things start to look bad for these creeps, you can bet that they’ll come for us first.” Wangari held Kim by her shoulders pleadingly. “There won’t be a chance for us to survive that. I can’t imagine them ransoming us off, and they’ll be ready to stop us from running if we try to break away right then.” Kimberly’s grimace shifted as her free hand palmed her knee. “We need to act now when they’re not suspecting it…. I know where you’re coming from, but it doesn’t make sense right now. If we want a chance, then we need to take a chance.” </p><p> </p><p>Kimberly blew air out of her cheek and tightened the grip on her own knees. “I guess you’re right.” A sound argument was all Kimberly demanded to change her mind. “But what are we going to do since this didn’t work?” </p><p>The question drew Wangari’s attention past Kimberly’s shoulder. She fixated on Joanna, who now sat distraughtly against the bars of their cell as she held her face in mourning. “For now, let’s just... try this again and see if Ansel comes in clutch.”</p><p> </p><p>Kimberly glanced back to catch sight of their other teammate. She hummed sympathetically. “If you think it’s worth a shot….” Appeals to emotion helped sway her too, at least when close friends were involved. “But if this doesn’t work, then leave plan B to me, alright?” She met Wangari’s gaze once more and nodded. </p><p> </p><p>Wangari returned it. “Deal.” Then she went to shuffle on over to the others, only for Kimberly to lean in for an unexpected hug. It was a brief affair, but a heartfelt gesture nonetheless. Wangari fumbled to reciprocate, but felt satisfied enough after a few moments. Maybe if things weren’t as hellish as they were, then she’d be feeling butterfly’s well up in her stomach. Instead, all she got was a chill from how cold Kimberly was. Once they both gave each other a small smile, Wangari resumed her ploy and made her way to Joanna’s side with Kimberly in tow. Both rested a hand on the Polish witch’s right leg and rustled her gently. “Jo, come on.” The gentle gesture and words prompted Joanna to lower her hands just enough to see past them. “Let’s try a few more times to reach him.” The encouragement fell on deaf ears at first, as Joanna simply shook her head and sniffled. “Hey, hey, it’s alright.” It wasn’t, but tears would get them nowhere. </p><p> </p><p>“Before you convince yourself that he’s broken,” Kimberly stepped in, providing reason where Wangari gave support. “Let’s think about this carefully. You can still sense him right?” Joanna hesitated, doing her best to keep her breath steady as she nodded fervently. “Ok…” Kimberly thumbed the inside of her cheek with her tongue until she could finish the thought. “Then he can’t be dead, can he?” Joanna didn’t know how to respond to that, but lucky for both of them, Valerie had the answer. </p><p> </p><p>“If he was completely gone, then there’s no way you’d be able to sense him anymore.” She readied her splinter-wand expectantly. “Do you want us to try again?” </p><p> </p><p>“It’s up to Jo.” Said Kimberly. “So what’s your call?” They’d need Joanna to reach Ansel, given the two were so close to each other. </p><p> </p><p>Joanna didn’t answer, not verbally at least. She had to get a grip on herself first, and that was easier said than done. She wasn’t doing as badly as Hristina or Mary, thank the Nine, but this ordeal was certainly getting to her in a bad way, and Ansel possibly falling a part on her just pushed her over the edge. Thankfully, she wasn’t alone. Wangari and Kimberly both kept close to her, grounding her otherwise shaking and sore body with reassuring touches. After a minute or so, she managed to work up the sobriety to lower her arms to her lap, steady her trembling, and give another nod. From there, Joanna lifted herself up and reached out of the cell alongside Valerie. The two did their best to reach out as far as they could, despite the pain in Joanna’s shoulder. Once she felt she'd gone as far as she could, she latched her hand onto Valerie’s wrist and began to channel her magicks out from her fingertips, up Valerie’s hand, and into her makeshift focus. <em> “Ansel…?” </em> She asked hesitantly. <em> “Ansel, I know you’re still there….” </em> Part of her felt like she didn’t, but she had to deny it. <em> “I know you never say anything, but please just give me a sign that you’re alright.” </em>If they couldn’t be saved, that was one thing. If Ansel “died” fighting to save them, that would leave Joanna wholly devastated. </p><p> </p><p><em> Tick…. Tick…. Tick…. </em> </p><p> </p><p>Ansel hadn’t moved a cog. It still lay there in the ratways, its wings unfurled, laid flat on its back, unaware of the voice calling to it.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Ansel, please, I can’t do this forever….” </em> Forcing the magic to escape her body while she was in the Null-Ward was difficult enough, painful even. Having to nearly dislocate her shoulder just to reach the edge of it made it excruciating. <em> “I need you to wake up, Ansel. Please! Wake up!” </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Tick…. Tick…. Tick-tick…. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>A few wayward gears ground against one another at discordant speeds. The strange engines that drove Ansel to animate sputtered and spurred in failed attempts to restart themselves. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Ansel! Please! Help me!”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Anse’s shutter began to flutter. Consciousness began to return to the Rust Fae. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Tick-tick-tick…. Tick…. Tick-tick…. Tick! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “You’re my only hope Ansel! OUR only hope! All us…. We need you!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Tick! Tick! Tick…! Tick! Tick Tick…! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>First came the colors of black and white, then red and yellow, not that there were many of those shades lying around. Finally, blue and green, and all between; Ansel blinked. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Ansel!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Tick! Tick! Tick! Tick! Tick! Tick! Tick! Tick! Tick! Tick! Tick! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The cogworks sprung to life in a fit. Ansel was en…. It was ang…. It was hard to place human emotion upon a being of Rust, but approximates could be made. Ansel was in full-alert mode, ready to do all it could to save Joanna. It fluttered off in a clumsy bit of thrashing before it managed to stabilize itself in the air. From there it shot down and out, moving into the greater hallway, and then up through the bars near the top of the door that barred access to this particular wing of the dungeon. Its bird-like wingbeats could be heard down the hall as it flapped with a fury; the noise sent Joanna’s heart soaring, and made her smile uncontainable. “Ansel!” She proclaimed the name of her dear friend as it arrived in front of her cell, only for Wangari and Kimberly to pull their teammate and Valerie away from the bars in a hurry. About three pairs of hands were immediately covering Joanna’s mouth as the sound of stirring began to echo from the other end of the hall. </p><p> </p><p>“Mrmmm…. Who’s…” The lazy vampire knight peaked his eyes open. “Who’s making noise…?” He <em> hated </em> noise, especially noises that interrupted his wholly unnecessary naps. “I thought I told you <em> megelliks </em>,” He spoke to himself at a lethargic volume while he pushed himself off of the wall, cracked his jaw, neck, and back. “To keep your mouths shut!” Immediately his grumble became a booming yell that put the hairs on edge for every captive. The knight scanned the hallway suspiciously, wondering just what it is these runts had to talk so loudly about, only to find it bare. Maybe if he was in a better mood he’d leave it at that, but no, today was a bad day. With news of the “incident” at court spreading rumors like wildfire, many nobles were taking out their frustrations on their footmen, IE, vampire knights just like him. </p><p> </p><p>He kept one hand to his sheathed blade as he began to trudge down the hallway. He lifted up his coif just enough so everyone who gazed upon him could see his wretched leer, so they could feel how disgusted he was by the fact that he had even been given this task in the first place. <em> “ </em> <em> Nem engednek, hogy igyunk eleget ehhez a szarhoz.” </em>He thought to himself in Hungarian, wanting for an increase to his “payment;” a larger tithe of blood. Down the hallway he went, giving a fierce look to every cell, and even strike his unsheathed sword against a few of the bars just to double down on the fear factor. It worked well in most cases, and emboldened the spite in others. Eventually he arrived at the cell where he’d heard the noise come from and found everyone spread out in a rather nonchalant array. They regarded him warily, as most of the prisoners had, though Joanna couldn’t dare look him in the eyes. Luckily for her, avoiding eye contact wasn’t that suspicious of her, or at least, the knight didn’t think anything of it. “I’ll give you one warning,” He raised one rueful finger up. “If I hear anything louder than a rat from your cell, I’m opening this door, and I’m leaving with one of your necks in my jaws!” His phrasing in english was a little awkward, but his monstrous posture and barred fangs told a grizzly enough story for everyone to get the picture. </p><p> </p><p>The hearts of the imprisoned witches beat furiously, Joanna’s most of all, as she felt the rigid shape of Ansel’s boxy body, and the surprisingly ticklish sensation of his shuffling wings against her stomach. It was hard to keep a straight face, but with a bit of focus, and a lot of cheek biting, enough to bleed it from within, Joanna managed to keep it cool. Finally, after what felt like ages, the lethargic knight spat to the floor and took his leave, none the wiser of the Rust Fae lurking beneath Joanna’s shirt. Once he was back in his resting position, situated a few good feet farther than he was prior, a great weight lifted itself off everyone’s shoulders. </p><p> </p><p>Joanna hissed and took a few deep breaths, fighting through her self inflicted pain as blood dripped from the inside of her cheek. Nine willing, the vampires wouldn’t be able to smell that. Ansel wriggled itself out from under Joanna’s shirt with a little help and began flapping around her happily. Joanna was beyond words, and perhaps for the better. After a few moments of flying with joy, the two “embraced” each other, as much as a camera with wings could embrace a human that is. </p><p> </p><p>The sight of the two reunited, joyful as ever, brought just a little hope to the others, but especially to Wangari and Kimberly. “Alright,” Said the former in an even quieter tone than before. “Now that we have Ansel, we just need to get the key and pick some wands off of those weird guys in robes.” </p><p> </p><p>Kimberly, peeked her eyes down the corridor, catching just a glimpse of the guard as he settled in for another forced snooze. “We should probably pick who’s going to be our team first.”</p><p> </p><p>Hristina was the first to un-volunteer herself. “I c-c-can’t do it!” Not that anyone was going to ask her. “There’s no w-way I’d make it! I’d d-drag you guys down!” It was for the best in everyone’s interest. Her morale was too thoroughly shaken to take on a task like this.  </p><p> </p><p>“I’m… I’m with Hristina….” Mary was in a similar situation, though she felt awful about being a burden. “I don’t think I would make it….”</p><p> </p><p>Kim glanced back over her shoulder with a huff. “Ok, understandable….” She got why they weren’t willing, but this was a matter of life and death here. “Well for one, Joanna should go no matter what.” </p><p> </p><p>“Huh!?” Joanna and Ansel both blinked, regarding Kimberly with surprise. </p><p> </p><p>“You have a Fae with you, and you’re the only one he understands.” Kimberly crossed her arms as-a-matter-of-factly. “He’s going to be an invaluable asset to whoever else goes out there with you.” For obvious, and not-so obvious reasons. </p><p> </p><p>Joanna held her left fist to her mouth, silencing her immediate objections, ones borne of fear, and only lowered it to speak after she steeled herself. “Alright, but only if Ansel’s ok with it.” Ansel was quick to shutter its flashes repeatedly, a sign of its agreement. “Wow… y-you’re pretty eager for this, aren't you?” Ansel made a “nodding” sort of gesture in the air, earning a little pat from Joanna. </p><p> </p><p>Kimberly snorted. “That settles that.” She got onto her feet then to address the group more properly. “Now, in my opinion, we should only send out three people max.” Three was a nice number, but it was also forgettable when you were dealing with nearly two hundred prisoners. That, and having just two witches seemed ill advised. This would likely be the most dangerous task of their lives, and they’d be damned if they underprepared for it. “So who else is going?” </p><p> </p><p>Bridget shifted uncomfortable on her knees. She would do anything to get out of this cell, but going out of the frying pan and into the fire? She wasn’t sure she could match that heat. </p><p> </p><p>Valerie was in a similar boat, though she also had plans of her own. “You know….” Her cellmate’s eyes fell upon her. “If we’re going to make a mold of the key….” Val’s own eyes shifted to the hallway, looking in each direction. “Then you’ll want me to stay.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, why?” Asked Wangari out of curiosity. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m the only one who can actually reach outside of these stupid wards.” Valerie vanely attempted to smudge out the glyph. “So if we want a mold, or a copy, or whatever of the key, then I’ll need to stay behind.” She then examined her poor, splintered excuse for a wand. “I know you guys said we should only send out three people, but I think we can do more than that.”</p><p> </p><p>“More people?” Kimberly scooted closer. “Or did you have something <em> else </em> in mind?” </p><p> </p><p>“Well, since there’s supposed to be some sort of battle,” Valerie looked Kimberly’s way, nodding all the while as the pieces to her plan came together in her head. “Then we better be ready to make a real break for it once the shit start’s flying.” </p><p> </p><p>Kimberly rubbed her chin thoughtfully as a small smile formed on her lips. “That’s not a bad idea….” Kimberly nodded along with Valerie. “Not a bad idea at all. It’ll make the away team’s job easier. They won’t have to worry about finding their way back if you guys can free yourselves.” </p><p> </p><p>“Then what’s the point of the ‘away team’?” Asked Bridget, appearing to look almost insulted. </p><p> </p><p>Wangari butted in with a quiet snap of her fingers. “You know how they were talking about that ritual and machine or whatever?” Bridget fidgeted with her hands awkwardly; she didn’t know. “Uhh, well, they said something about it, right Kim?” Kim gave a nod of reassurance. “Ok, so the away team’s job then should be to figure out what those things are, and do anything they can to wreck ‘em!” She gently tapped her right fist into her left palm. </p><p> </p><p>“And if Val’s staying back, then I guess that means it’s up to us.” Kimberly straightened out her posture and mentally prepared herself. </p><p> </p><p>Wangari stood up beside Kimberly. “Time for the Luna Nova News Network to get to work then!” Akko <em> really had </em> rubbed off on her in the best way possible. Even now she was smiling with determination; she couldn’t be kept down when there was a way forward. </p><p> </p><p>Less so with Kimberly, always the naysayer to Wangari’s occasional and undue optimism. “Yellow team to the freakin’ rescue, I guess.” </p><p> </p><p>Joanna forced a laugh as Kimberly helped her up with an outstretched hand. Ansel continued to show signs of excitement, as if this were another reporting adventure, and not a struggle for their very lives. Joanna did her best to play along with it, thinking it better for her nerves to fool herself for now.“I-I guess that means we have a good opportunity to get some… uh… once in a lifetime shots…?” She <em> really </em> hated herself for making <em> that </em> kind of pun, but even when walking on a razor's edge, Joanna couldn’t ignore the call of the “scoop,” and by the Nine was this the biggest scoop of her life.</p><p> </p><p>“Sure…. Let’s go with that.” Unlike Joanna, Kimberly found it<em> extremely </em> difficult to get any genuine excitement out of this, scoop or no scoop. She was a woman of intrigue and investigation at heart, not thrills and daring. “Before we celebrate too loud and wake up sleeping beauty over there, let’s get the key and get the hell out of here.” Everyone could agree to that, and so it was time for Ansel to get to work. </p><p> </p><p>The Rust Fae was off and away with a flutter and shutter, but not before Valerie stuck her hand out for one quick spell. <em> “Silenaria.” </em>A small bubble of muffling magicks surrounded the camera creature. It looked like it was made of water, but even the greatest amount of force couldn’t “pop” it. Things simply merged into it, cancelling out all sound that emanated from within its walls. “That should keep him from hearing you handle the keys.” Sure enough, even Ansel’s flapping was muted, making the approach a simple affair. </p><p> </p><p>Down the corridor Ansel went, going as fast as it could to reach the guard. A few witches were tempted to remark on it, but most, if not all, realized that to speak of it now might ruin whatever plan their classmates down the hall might be up to. Once Ansel reached the target, the first tricky step began: It had to secure the keys from the guard’s belt, and Ansel didn’t have hands or a mouth. What Ansel <em> did </em> have though, was an adjustable zoom feature! Using said feature, Ansel extended its “face” as far as it could, about six inches away from its body so that it could thread its elongated body part through the hoop of the keyring. A careful bit of lifting brought the keys out of the knight’s belt pouch, and with gravity’s aid, the keyring slid down to the base of the camera, and into the bubble of silence. A tiny bit of jingling made the knight’s nose wrinkle. He assumed it was just his own movements and let it go, easing the spirit of the Rust Fae greatly.</p><p> </p><p> Now for the simple part: The trip back. Well, it was <em> mostly </em> simple. Balancing the keys so that they didn’t fall wasn’t a hard task, but it was rather awkward to do that while moving. It meant it was forced to fly at an angle. Ansel’s eye was on the ceiling, and its body was leaned backward about forty five degrees. Because that screwed up the trajectory of its wings, Ansel had to make sharp diagonal “hops” in the air before letting gravity take it down a few inches, only to repeat the motion over and over again, just to make it to the cell with the key still on it’s face. Once it arrived, it unceremoniously plopped into Valerie’s waiting hand. “Got it!” Val quickly pulled her arm back in and handed Ansel back over to Joanna.</p><p> </p><p>The Polish witch, ever protective of her living camera, held him like a wounded dove. “Ansel, are you ok?”  The camera shuttered lazily a few times and wiped its lens with one of its wings. That was its way of saying it was “tired.” Joanna “awwed,” quietly and stroked Ansel on the top of its frame. “Take a breather Ansel. We’ve got time.” </p><p> </p><p>“Alright, now for the mold!” Wangari looked to Val who was already a step ahead of her. She was working alongside Bridget to determine which key opened the cell door, and once that mystery was solved, Val got to work making the proper mold. She held both of her arms outside of the cell, one holding the splintered wand, and the other holding the key. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and did her damndest to focus on channeling her magic into the spell, despite the pain the Null-Ward inflicted on her. Her incants were stifled, but not stopped, and if she stuttered, she started over again. In the end, her perseverance won out, and the loose stone from around the halls was brought forth to reconstruct a solid copy of the key. Valerie was quick to pull her arms back through the bars and hand off the keys while she tended to her tingling fingers. Her hands felt like they were on fire, and her digits ached with what could only be described as mana-burn, as if shocked and pulsing with electrical energies. She fidgeted, clearly in pain, but forced herself to feel at ease. Immediate pain was worth the price of future freedom. </p><p> </p><p>Kimberly, having taken the copy of the key, carefully notched it into the lock, inhaling sharply as the two fit together with a satisfying little clink. Now for the moment of truth. Kimberly grabbed the wrist of her turning hand with the other so as to keep herself steady as she turned the tumbler as silently as possible. A few clicks followed by a quiet, dull knock signaled their success! The lock was undone and removed with haste while Valerie put her face up against the bars. She gave a look to all of the other witches across from Yellow Team’s cell, or were otherwise poking out of their cells to see what was going on. A singular, raised finger was all the instruction the other students needed. </p><p> </p><p>Together, Bridget, Valerie, Wangari, and Kimberly moved the cell door open as quietly as they could. They were all too lucky to not get one of the squeaker doors, and so the movement went off without a hitch. Joanna was up again, or rather, Ansel was. It was time to return the real keys. Joanna gave her camera a reassuring smile and nod, hiding the anxiety that bubbled just beneath her skin as it took off with the payload in tow. The flight back was just as annoying and laborious as the first flight to the cell, but Ansel had at least gotten into the strange rhythm, and its bubble of silence remained to help conceal its motions. A simple tilt saw the keys clink back into the knight’s pouch, and for mercy, he didn’t seem to notice it this time; his eyes were naturally shut, and he appeared to be well and truly asleep. </p><p> </p><p>Ansel returned as fast as it could, glad to be rid of its burden, and was once again welcomed by Joanna’s gentle hands. “Ok,” Said Wangari, addressing the group with Kimberly on her left and Joanna on her right. “So we all know the plan, right?” Everyone was in agreement. The particulars were things they’d figure out on the fly. Not being able to improvise in a situation like this is a death sentence. “Great! Just make sure you cover for us if they get suspicious, and hide the key somewhere safe.” Valerie nodded firmly as she crept over to the far corner of the cell where a bit of loose rock from the walls had fallen out; she’d bury it under there for when the time was right. Wangari gave them others, both before and behind her, a confident thumbs up. “For now, just sit tight, and hold out until things start getting hectic.” She, Kimberly, and Joanna began to shuffle toward the cell door. The lattermost poked her head out and found the guard still asleep, and so she gave Wangari a go-ahead gesture. “If we aren’t back by the time you guys break out, do your best to find an exit. We’ll try and find you.” </p><p> </p><p>Bridget interjected with a nervous question. “What if you can’t…? Should we go looking for you?” </p><p> </p><p>Wangari’s eyes shifted to the side a bit. She wasn’t really sure how to answer that question in an uplifting way. Instead, Kimberly covered it. “Absolutely not.” She shook her head and waved her hand dismissively. “Help each other, but don’t worry about us. If you never see us, don’t even think about it. We’re counting on you guys doing your best to save yourselves.” It was a grim sentiment, but realistic.</p><p> </p><p> Bridget frowned at this, but nodded in hesitant agreement. She could at least appreciate the honesty. “Got it….” Her acknowledgement  left an awkward sting in the air, one Wangari wanted to fill with some throw-away rallying call or hopeful sentiment, none came to mind, and the longer they spent standing there, the more likely it was for them to be caught. </p><p> </p><p>“Let’s move.” Commanded Kimberly as she stepped out into the hallway. </p><p> </p><p>“Y-Yeah.” Wangari followed suite, and then Joanna. </p><p> </p><p>“Wait a sec you three.” Valerie snuck out as well, wand in hand, and repeated her silencing spell. <em> “Silenaria.” </em>Little bubbles formed around the trio’s feet. “There. Now you can move fast without being loud.”</p><p> </p><p>Joanna looked down anxiously at her worn and nearly ruined shoes. “H-How long will it last?” She looked to Ansel and prodded his own bubble. </p><p> </p><p>“Umm….” Calculations like this were hard on the fly. “Two hours?” Val’s guestimate was as good as any. </p><p> </p><p>“Then we’ve got two hours to snag some wands for ourselves.” Kimberly eyed the exit door enviously, eagerly. “No point wasting more time. Let’s go, you two!” She started down the hall at a running pace, though she made no sound thanks to Valerie’s magicks. </p><p> </p><p>“Wangari mustered a more resolute expression and focused her mind, “Wands, got it!” Before she too broke out into a run. </p><p> </p><p>“Come on Ansel!” Joanna did her best to keep pace, but she was the least fit of the three, and if she had it her way, they’d be taking this nice and slow. Hopefully there’d be room for that later. “Hah… phew… Is it unlocked?” Asked Joanna upon arriving at the end of the hall. Kimberly answered the question as they arrived at the door by simply turning the old iron handle, opening the door carefully, and motioning for them to file out. First went Wangari, then Joanna and Ansel, followed finally by Kimberly, who  deftly closed the door behind them. </p><p> </p><p>Yellow team was off and away from that point.The insane complexity of the castle would be their only saving grace, that and the element of surprise of course. Neither of those things made this any less harrowing though, for the creatures that The Fates had enslaved turned the seemingly infinite expanse of the castle into a monstrous echo chamber. Whoops, whimpers, snarls, and snapping sounded in their ears every so often, leaving the brave witches to constantly contend with the pressures of paranoia. Though none of them would say it aloud, a primal part of their beings was regretting this venture already. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Back in Porthcurno…. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Amanda went over it all; every painstaking detail of her doubts. She kept her family business out of it, as that was her own beast to deal with, but the encounters with Jehanne? The sensations of the Balefire within her, and it’s growing and shrinking? She told him everything about that. Silence was in the air now that she’d finished, and her eyes drifted off to the clock just above where Maxwell sat; twenty minutes had gone by. <em> “Could’ve been worse….” </em> She surmised. <em> “But I guess we’re not done yet, are we?” </em> Maxwell’s hard and thoughtful expression said as much. He was considering what Amanda had told him with absolute focus. <em> “Of course not.” </em>She was glad to get the help, overwhelmingly so, but god did she wish that things were simpler. “.... And now I’m sitting here, feeling like an idiot, telling you all about how I feel like an idiot.” Her forward posture had become backward again; she had spun the chair around and sat facing its back, giving her arms something to rest on while her left foot kept drumming along. </p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, Maxwell was a patient man. “You’re finished then?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda, however, was not. “I dunno. Maybe I should tell you the rest of my life story while I’m at it. I’ll start from in the womb if you like.” But at least she could have “fun” with it, in her own morbidly humorous way.</p><p> </p><p>“Ehm, that… won’t be nesce—” Too bad, Amanda was committed to the bad joke at this point.</p><p> </p><p>“Ahem,” Amanda fauxly cleared her throat, faking a cough into her fist. “It all probably started in some penthouse. My parents were drunk, or high, or both.” She held her chin in one hand, recounting this made up tale with a wistful look in her eye, one that barely concealed her disdain for her existence right now. “They were probably blitzed out of their fucking minds, on booze and drugs I could never even hope to afford, and oh boy, don’t even get me started on how they made me in the middle of that shitshow.” Her own crude, dark humor made her laugh. She wasn’t sure whether to find that even more pathetic or actually funny in of itself. At least it kept the voices at bay, though they had been able to breach the cracks in her flimsy mental defences throughout her recounting of events; it made this whole process all the harder. </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell found it all quite discomforting. “A-Amanda, please, I thought you said you <em> weren’t </em> going to get into that sordid business of yours?” A sigh escaped the young hunter across from him as all signs of mirth left her expression. “You wanted me to help you with understanding Jehanne’s teachings, and that’s what I intend to do.” </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell managed to put his hard eyes back to work again, setting Amanda straight in terms of thinking. It had her chin holding hand drift up to grasp at her forehead. “Sorry about that.” She took a moment to clear her head, shutting her eyes and blinking with intent to shake away the feeling. “It’s kinda hard not to get into it when… well… y’know. All this stuff feels linked, I guess.” She had doubts about it before, but after Jehanne had laid out the cards on the table, there was no denying it anymore. </p><p> </p><p>“All’s well, Amanda. All’s well.” Maxwell scooted his chair forward, folded his hands together, and held them right below his chin. “Now, for starters, I’d like to commend you on your….” The words escaped him momentarily, but they came along eventually. “Self awareness. Yes, that’s it.” He nodded slowly. “You seem to know why you’re feeling like you do. It’s not easy for most folks to get to that level of understanding.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda smirked coyly, and a little proudly. “I’ll chock that win up to ‘working under pressure.’” Being chased by murderous dark-age vampires on a quest for blood and power overwhelming sure does motivate the mind to “get its shit together.” </p><p> </p><p>“Aye. Stress like that can drive people to make miracles happen….” Maxwell returned her joking smile with a more genuine one; it looked almost fatherly. “And of course, having a family who cares helps a lot.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda couldn’t help but feel her smile widen a bit. “I thought you said we were gonna stay away from the heavy shit?”</p><p> </p><p>“Do as I say, not as I do.” Cautioned Maxwell with a hefty dose of irony. “I wasn’t kidding however. Your self awareness is critical to you solving this… puzzle.” His hands parted as he shrugged slightly. “I feel like there’s a better word for it, but I’m not going to waste our time trying to be poetic.” </p><p> </p><p>“Speaking of self awareness….” Amanda grinned. </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell rolled his eyes. “Anyways….” He clapped his hands back together to refocus himself and the conversation. “Let’s start with the simplest of issues.” Amanda raised a brow and nearly scoffed at him, as if any of this was simple. “Don’t give me that look,” Maxwell withheld a sigh. “It’s simple because all it is is a misunderstanding. You don’t know how the order works, how it’s worked for centuries; mistakes like this are bound to happen, and the best thing we can do about it is make sure you’re informed.” </p><p> </p><p>“Wanna be specific, because there’s <em> a lot </em> of stuff that I feel is pretty contradictory.” </p><p> </p><p>“If you allow me to finish, I’ll gladly clear it up.” Maxwell raised a brow proitedly. “Fair?” Amanda settled in her seat, resting her arms against the back of her chair, and her chin atop them. “Good.” It was close enough to “yes” for Maxwell. “You’ve been entrusted with a great honour, yes?” A pause followed. Maxwell gestured encouragingly only for Amanda to groan. </p><p> </p><p>“Didn’t I <em> just </em> tell you everything I went through?” Maxwell didn’t deign to respond to her verbally. A hard, expectant look was enough to get her to comply. “Alright, fine, yes, I guess I’ve been given some <em> great responsibility </em>, or whatever.” She accentuated those two words with the second laziest showing of “jazz hands” to have been made. The absolute laziest still belonged to Diana. “What’s your point?”</p><p> </p><p>“My point,” Maxwell spoke a little louder now. “Is that while it is true that you have been entrusted with the flame of the first Balefire, and the task of rekindling all those like it around the world, it is <em> not </em> true that you are the face of this order.” Amanda cocked her head and squinted a little. She didn’t quite understand why Maxwell said what he said, though Maxwell only smiled and nodded in return. “It’s about ideology, Amanda. Ideology and practice. No coven could survive as long as we, or the Antiquarians, or any of the other orders founded by The Nine Olde Witches, without strong ideologies to bind its members together.” Amanda waited patiently for now; she was genuinely curious as to where this was going. “You remember Asgall’s words; you said them yourself. There are no chosen men. Jehanne echoed that sentiment when you reminded her…. It is not just a sentiment, it is a principle that defines how the order, and many covens like it, organize themselves. There are leaders, there is structure, but there are no chosen men.” Maxwell decided he’d rise from his seat and give this lesson standing as youthful energies coursed through his veins. </p><p> </p><p>“When Asgall, Jehanne, and I speak of chosen men, we talk about something that humans and Fae alike have referenced throughout time: Heroes, chosen ones, prophets…. Sometimes they were seen as divine, other times they were seen as purely rational, as leaders of men and thought alike.” He gestured confidently with his right hand, forming a fist at about chin level as he began to pace back and forth like a lecturer. “Many of them are from stories, but the ones we remember most were<em> real people</em>. They had lives, faults, failings, victories, lovers, childhoods, and moments of absolutely no note to us. They were humans and Fae, no different than anyone else you might find nowadays.” He stopped and turned toward Amanda a little awkwardly on one heel. Spry as he felt, his body wasn’t what it used to be. “But we’ve given them this legend, this… quality of greatness. It makes them feel closer to the heroes of our stories, almost intangible.” Maxwell chuckled. “Now, don’t get me wrong, I love a good story, and I know all too well that I’ll be the first one to embellish the tales of witches like Jehanne and Vaal.” He lowered his raised fist and put his hands behind his back then, as if to humble himself. “But I must also admit that there is a time and place for romanticizing things, and a time and place for telling things how they were, how they <em>really</em> <em>were</em>, and ‘greatness’ has nothing to do with history; nothing to do with real people.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda’s foot tapping managed to slow itself by now. Her brain was working hard enough that her nervous energy could be put toward something more useful. “Alright, that’s… great and all,” Irony notwithstanding. “And I don’t wanna sound like I’m not trying here, but… how does that apply to me?” Jehanne’s titular question on judgement, and on who can judge whom, came to mind, but she didn’t quite see the answer to it yet. She really was doing her best to understand it, but this wasn’t exactly her wheelhouse. </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell nodded agreebly. “It’s no trouble at all.” He quite liked this whole “mentor” thing he had going on. Any excuse for him to talk about what he devoted his life toward was a welcome one. “I want you to consider those words and now apply them to <em> your </em> situation.” He pointed toward Amanda firmly. “Because if I’m not mistaken, both you and your sister have expressed <em> many </em> reservations about all of these… what did you call them?”</p><p> </p><p>“Coincidences?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, that.” Maxwell nodded sagely. “I’ve only heard you mention it here and there, but I could tell from how frantically you two got to work trying to figure out why the Arcturian period is called what it was: You both have a thousand questions on your mind, and you <em> need </em> to have it all answered if you’re to be truly comfortable with any of this.” </p><p> </p><p>“Ehhhh,” Amanda leaned back, weighing her hands like scales. “I mean, yes, but that’s more Conz’s thing.” Then she leaned forward again, returning to her previous position. “Don’t get me wrong: I’m curious as all hell why shit’s going down right here and right now, and why we’re involved in it, but I’m also already tired of all this mystical olde bullshit.” She paused and bit her lip slightly. “No offence Maxy.”</p><p> </p><p>The elder witch raised a calm flat hand. “None taken.” He couldn’t fully deny that some of this was, admittedly, <em> a little bullshit </em>, but that’s just the way of things, and arguing against reality was pointless. “My point stands.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, it does,” Amanda nodded. “What were you sayin’ though?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hm? Oh, right.” Maxwell sat himself back down before he got too off track. “As I was saying, with your situation in mind, and, as you put it, ‘this mystical olde bullshit,’ sounds quite similar to the ‘greatness’ and legendary status of heroes I was talking about earlier, doesn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda closed one eye as she considered it. “Wait a second….” Only for her to click her tongue in frustration and nod more aggressively a moment later. “Man…!” She was frustrated, if anything. “Are you trying to say I’ve just tricked myself into thinking I’m more important than I really am?” Maxwell smiled and averted his gaze. The old geezer in him couldn’t help but want to chuckle at the follies of youth; not condescendingly, mind you, but because he saw too much of his younger self in them. “Fuckin’ hell, why did Jenny gotta be so on point and so vague all at once!?” The missed obviousness made Amanda want to laugh a little. </p><p> </p><p>“What, about being your own worst enemy?”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t act like you don’t know!” Amanda leaned back again, much farther this time, biting her lips in a vain attempt to curb her stupid grin.</p><p> </p><p>“Hmhmhm….” Maxwell stopped trying to hide it at that point.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda wiped face and sighed deeply. “Alright, now before I get mad at myself again, why don't you tell me why this is a good thing and how it doesn’t just make me the biggest idiot this order’s ever had.” She sounded like someone who’d just asked where their phone was, assumed it was lost, and then searched for hours on end only to find it in their pocket. </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell stroked his beard and cleared his throat, steadying his tone. “It’s a good thing because the order rejects any notion of spectacular greatness. There are men who do great things, but no men who are great. You, Amanda, are someone who has been tasked to do something great, but no one is expecting you to save the world on your own.” He opened up his posture and spoke plainly. “Fire is both singular and many; that’s what this is about. A million flames coming together to act as one. Some will be hotter than others, bigger, smaller, it matters not. Remove any of the flames, no matter how tiny, and the Balefire as a whole weakens.” He pointed to Amanda’s chest, specifically, her heart. “That is why, even should you fall, the Balefire will carry on. Maybe Jehanne shall find a new host, or the flame itself shall migrate to another. Or perhaps it will fizzle away, only to be replaced by an entirely new fire. That’s what the cycle is about.” </p><p> </p><p>“Ashes to embers… embers to flame...  flame to flames.” The cycle repeated in Amanda’s mind as she muttered it to herself, her smile having faded. “How does that even work though?” </p><p> </p><p>“Simply: So long as there’s someone out there with the will to fight for a brighter future, then there’s embers ready to be sparked, fire ready to burn.” Maxwell put his left fist to his heart solemnly. “And the ashes? When we die, we all leave behind a legacy. A story to tell, just like the ones I brought up about great heroes and warriors.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda eyed Maxwell a little suspiciously. “Who the hell is gonna be able to remember all these stories?”</p><p> </p><p>Maxwell raised his left fist up, turning it to a pointed finger. “That, is where the <em> chains </em> come in.” Amanda shifted her jaw from left to right. She settled back in her seat, her mind working hard again. “Most folks have a family, or at least friends and neighbors to call their own. Not only do they keep us company in life, but they keep our legacy kickin’ when we’re dead. We pass it down to our children, and our friends pass tales of us down to them too, and if we were fighting for a better tomorrow, then you can bet your arse that they’ll tell of how you fought and bled for what was right.” He pointed beyond the hazy windows of the office that made everything beyond them look like a pixelated mosaic. “Every one of them is being inspired by the likes of you and Constanze, and they’ll inspire others in turn!” Amanda spun around in her chair and watched the people as they worked. It was terribly late, and yet there were still those who refused to quit, people who were committed to taking the night shifts to ensure safety and progress around the clock. It really was inspiring; that she could not deny. “ <em> This </em> is how our fire spreads into people's hearts. They see people like us and them doing good, and they realize that they too have the potential to do good.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda’s thoughts wandered. She remembered the headlines and news reports from the past few weeks, the accounts of people from around the world; folks could use a source of inspiration. However…. “Maxy… I don’t doubt yah, but if that’s how this is supposed to work, then how the hell did the world get so bad in the first place?”</p><p> </p><p>Maxwell’s romantic sense of pride deflated like a balloon. He slumped forward somewhat and sighed. “I could go on for weeks explaining why things are the way they are now, and while that’s all important in its own right, what’s more important is knowing that the effect I’m telling you about <em> IS </em>possible.” He gestured to himself, putting both hands on his chests. “Hell, I’m living proof of that principle!” His short war stories were proof enough. “But beyond that, just because not everyone in the world will be convinced right away, or even if only a very tiny amount of people are swayed… it doesn’t mean we can’t work to convince others about what needs to be done.” He laid his hands flat on the table. “The world won’t change in a day, but we don’t have to wait any longer to start changing it.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda turned back around slowly, considering his words with equal care. Eventually, she gave a nod. “Guess I can’t argue with that reasoning.” Though something still bothered her about this. “So, lemme get this straight then: Are you tryin’ to say I’m trying to be more than I need to be with this whole legacy reclaiming nonsense?” </p><p> </p><p>“Precisely.” Maxwell formed a small smile. “You need to accept that you can’t do it all on your own, and that myself, Asgall, everyone of us who fights with the order’s ideals in mind; we’re all working together as one unit, and we’re all looking out for each other while we do it.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda flexed her fingers inward, tensed them, and then flexed them out again. She breathed out long and hard. “Ok….” She began to nod, “I think I can commit that to memory next time I psych myself out.” And started to smile. “Because I sure as shit don’t know the first thing about running anything besides my mouth.” She flashed a toothy grin; a little victory. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m glad to have eased ye.” Maxwell and Amanda shared a long, warm look between one another. Both contemplated what to say next, with Maxwell shooting first. “It doesn’t cover all of yer bases though, does it?” </p><p> </p><p>In the meantime, Amanda stood up and spun her chair around frontways so she could lean against it. “What gave it away?” The chair was getting uncomfortable.  “I mean, <em> besides </em> my twenty minute ramble.” She had one arm against the back of it with her body facing perpendicular to Maxwell; she turned her head to keep her eyes on him. </p><p> </p><p>“That was it really, nothin’ more than that.” He was just a good listener. “It’s about Dyrnwyn, and that little riddle she gave you, yes?” Amanda nodded, though she wasn’t sure if she’d call it a riddle. “Let me do my best to explain how Dyrnwyn works then.” His left hand went to his left cheek and propped it up as he thought. “Now, to be frank, no one <em> really </em> knows how Dyrnwyn judges those who draw it. The spirit of the sword has never been spoken to, no matter how hard the order’s Spirit-Singers have tried. Not even masters of the craft under the Olde Witch Calixtus could speak to it…. Maybe it never had one, but that leaves us with only the order’s records to go off of.”</p><p> </p><p>“And what did they say?”</p><p> </p><p>Maxwell pursed his lips. “There were indeed many like you, veteran and novice hunters alike, who were called to pick up the fireblade, and decided the risk was too great. It’s an understandable conclusion to jump to. You don’t know why or how it judges you, but it does, and not knowing how makes you question what it’s even judging in the first place.” </p><p> </p><p>“So then what was that stuff Jehanne said about honesty and justice?” </p><p> </p><p>“Honesty’s rather straightforward; I think we can agree there.” </p><p> </p><p>“Fair enough, but justice?” </p><p> </p><p>“And resolve.” Maxwell corrected. “Those are the three surefire things we know that Dyrnwyn examines. The wielder’s honesty, the wielder’s resolve, and the wielder’s sense of justice.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda turned her head off toward nothing in particular. “So that’s what she was trying to tell me….” She muttered, loathing that she couldn’t have just been told that from the very beginning. <em> “If that’s her way of being straightforward, I don’t even wanna think about what her definition of subtle is.” </em>She was quietly very happy that she didn’t get chosen by Vaal; that would’ve been nightmarish. </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell continued: “Thinking about it, I have to wonder if that saying you kept hearing in your head was related to this.” It brought Amanda’s attention back. “What was it? Every fighter knows that she’s stronger when there is—”</p><p> </p><p>“Just peace to rule her mind.” Amanda finished it almost reflexively. “Once again,” She sounded stumped, tired even. “A nice sentiment, but easier said than done.” </p><p> </p><p>“Hrmmm….” Maxwell stroked his scraggly beard, thinning it into a more reasonable shape. “If it’s meant to be about Dyrnwyn, then could it be she’s talking about your doubts?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda pointed to her left temple. “I think we all know there’s a lot more than just doubt at work here.” </p><p> </p><p>“But based on what you told me,” And what she alluded to. “It seems like doubt is at the heart of the problem.” Maxwell would never call himself a psychologist, but even a blind man could see the writing on the walls here. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be the judge of that.” Snapped Amanda.</p><p> </p><p>Maxwell fired back with a defensive tone of his own. “Now what about the question Jehanne posed to you?”</p><p> </p><p>The question rang clearly in Amanda’s mind: <em> “If there are no chosen men, then who is the one whom judges you as worthy, or unworthy?” </em></p><p> </p><p>The ringing words were cleared only by Maxwell’s continued queries. “Remember what we said about greatness and chosen men. Doesn’t that make it clear enough?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda cracked the knuckles on her thumbs as she momentarily tightened her fists. “Look, I get it!” A moment later, her expression softened, as did her grip. She took a deep breath before speaking again. “I need some time to figure it out. All of that was helpful, and I’m sure it’ll be useful, but right now….” Amanda did her best to not come off as defensive or prickly, though it was a little hard to do so. “Right now I need you to tell me how I’m supposed to know if I’m just and honest and… resolute? Is that the word?” A brief pause saw her shake her head. “Whatever it is, how am I supposed to know if I’m good enough for the sword?”</p><p> </p><p>Maxwell’s lips shifted and soured. “The only ones who’ve drawn the blade and lived to tell of it simply said that they knew.” He shrugged tiredly. “When asked how they knew, all they ever said was that they just did; no method or reason for it. It’s just a feeling they got.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh come on, seriously!?” Amanda threw her arms up in frustration and let them fall to her sides. “She said that if I don’t get my shit together that we might not make it through this, and you’re telling me all I have to go on is some kinda feeling!?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know everything, Amanda!” Maxwell opened his palms, as if to show he wasn’t hiding everything. “All I can say is that Dyrnwyn is a fickle sword that demands its wielder be confident in who they are and to be certain of their own worth. It’s up to you to determine if you’re that kind of person or not.” Amanda turned to face the door as she held the back of her head with both hands and sputtered a sigh. </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell could sense her despondency and exhaustion, and while he was a tad agitated, he couldn’t help but feel sympathetic. “Amanda, I know you wish things were easier. We all do, even Jehanne.” The words didn’t seem to reach her immediately, though her little shifts in movement seemed to signal that she was listening. “No one really <em> wants </em> to have to fight these fights. Deep down, we all wish we could talk it out, and that things would resolve themselves from time to time…. That there wouldn’t have to be any pain.” If war and service to the order taught him anything, it was this: “But if we don’t struggle for what we need and what we know is right, then we’re all doomed to die sooner rather than later.” It struck Amanda like a bolt from the blue, sending a shiver up her spine. “We need to change and adapt when the going gets tough, but when the tough gets going and tries to change us? We need to hunker down and refuse to yield.” </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell rose from his seat, gesturing passionately with his right fist. “And I know it hurts to do that, believe me…. But I also know that you’re all too aware of this. You know that’s how the world works; you don’t need an old hunter like me to tell you that.” Maxwell’s fist fell to his side as he approached Amanda carefully. He put one hand upon her shoulder and gripped it firmly, encouragingly. “What you do need though is a reassurance. Things will get harder before they get easier. We’re in the home stretch, and we all just need to push a little harder until things start going our way.” Amanda glanced to her right, meeting Maxwell’s gaze with one of her own; she was tired and hurt, but hopeful nonetheless. “We don’t improve so that we can struggle. We struggle to improve, and it’s that struggling that lets us improve in the first place….” Maxwell smiled calmly. “You and Constanze should know that more than anyone by now. I know you do.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda was at a loss for words. The side of her that was ever stubborn and always looking to refute others, just for the sake of it, couldn’t even muster a paltry defence against this. Maxwell’s words cut right through her in the best way possible, and all she could do in the face of them was internalize and understand. For once, she felt like this advice was meant for her, as if it spoke to some truer version of herself. Just as Sucy’s antagonizing declaration set her down this path, the wisdom of her would-be mentor, Maxwell, and the reassurance of her sister, would carry her to the end of that self-same road. <em> “No.” </em> Amanda thought to herself. <em> “They ain’t carrying me nowhere….” </em> A bitter sentiment, <em> “I’m carrying myself there….” </em> Selfish even, <em> “But I’dve never made it if they weren’t there to keep me going.” </em> But only when left incomplete. <em> “Maxwell, Jehanne, Benjy, Mrs. J, Winny, Conz…. Hell, even Sucy.” </em> Amanda’s hurting slowly fell away from her expression as did her weariness; she was getting her true second wind. <em> “They’ve all been tellin’ me to do something good for myself for once, and really mean it…. But I guess if I can’t do that…. Well, then I’ll just have to do it to pay ‘em back.” </em>A little mind trick like that could go a long way, and for once, it was one she made for herself, not one she borrowed from others. </p><p> </p><p>It brought her focus back to the real world, back to Maxwell. She couldn’t help but clasp him on the back in turn. “Maxwell,” She said with a tinge of relief in her voice. “I really appreciate your help, but I was serious when I said I needed some time to figure it out.”</p><p> </p><p>Maxwell chuckled. “And here I thought it just took a little bit of chit-chatting to solve everyone’s problems.” His voice was laden with sarcasm. </p><p> </p><p>“Eheheh….” Amanda idly peered out of the blurry glass windows. “Seriously though, I think…. I think I can do this now.” Constanze had always stressed the need for having the right tools for the job. <em> “So I guess these are my tools then eh? The one’s I’ve been needing all along?” </em>They weren’t easy to find, but that made her approaching victory all the sweeter to achieve. “But I ain’t about to just sit around to think on my ass all day.” That was a good way for her to regress rather than progress. “I’ve been doing enough of that while makin’ our way over here, all the way from Finland.”</p><p> </p><p>“I thought you liked travelling?” Maxwell dropped his arm and spoke more casually, feeling satisfied with Amanda’s newfound confidence. </p><p> </p><p>“I like travelling because it means I go get to do something new every day.” Amanda dropped hers as well, turned to face him frontways, and stuffed her hands in her pockets. “Not because I like flying for hours on end.” Though, when her thoughts weren’t working against her, it was a nice escape. “That said…. I got two questions left before I head out for the night.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh?” Maxwell put his hands behind his back. “And what would they be?”</p><p> </p><p>“First off,” Amanda rolled her shoulders. “How can I help out around here before we try and take back the island?”</p><p> </p><p>Maxwell’s warm smile became a proud, wide grin. “Beyond aiding in the defences, I think it’s time you put that natural talent of yours to work.” Amanda eyes him with some confusion, as if to ask what “talent” he was talking about. “Come now, tell me you didn’t forget about what you did for this town when we first met. You’re a natural at teaching others how to survive in situations like this. Jehanne and the flame chose well as far as leaders go, because you’ve got public speaking skills in spades!”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda chuckled it off. <em> “I guess Conz was right about that.” </em> Not that she doubted her much. “Then that’s what I’ll do.” There was little else to say on the matter. She’d figure it out, just as she’d figure out herself. She had two questions though, not just one. “Second,” Amanda sized up Carnwennan, and then looked to the empty spot on her hip where Dyrnwyn would be, no, <em> should be </em> resting. “Is there a way I can use Dyrnwyn without drawing it?”</p><p> </p><p>“You mean, <em> without </em> the enchantment?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Amanda nodded. “It’s probably tougher than any sword we could find or whip up on short notice; sharp as hell too I bet. Sure, the fire would help a ton, but…” Her smile faltered, if only for a moment. “But we gotta be realistic here, because I might not be able to draw it by then.” </p><p> </p><p>“W-What about Jehanne’s warnings? About uniting with the Balefire <em> before </em> the battle?” A bit of nervousness bled into his optimistic and hard expression.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda mustered her real and fake confidence to shoot him a grin that was as fake as it was real. “Let’s just say…” The grin may have been split in its genuineness, but there was one thing it was one hundred percent, “I got a <em> feeling </em> that I’ll me and the fire’ll get along fine.” It was all Amanda, in every way shape and form. </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell formed a grin of his own and waved her off dismissively. “Why would I expect anything else from you?” It was a welcome bit of levity. </p><p> </p><p>“I dunno, why would yah?” On both of their parts.</p><p> </p><p>“Nevermind that,” Maxwell went for his staff and turned about once he could lean against it. “In short, yes, there <em> is </em> a way to wield it without ‘drawing’ it, so to speak…. Amanda cracked her neck as she got a bit more serious again, though she maintained a bit of that signature grin. “The scabbard is actually in two parts. You may have seen the crease in it, but it’s a bit hard to notice sometimes.” Maxwell gestured to his staff as an example. “It’s at the base of the blade, just above the hilt, a section that’s on much tighter than the others.” His right hand gripped a section of the staff as if to demonstrate pulling on the scabbard. “Normally, it comes off fine if you take the whole piece with it, but if you break the crease, it’ll seal itself on there through an enchantment. From there, you’ll have just about all of the sharpness of the sword to work with, but you won’t be able to truly wield Dyrnwyn unless you apply a good bit of heat to the final piece of sheathing. That’ll loosen it so you can pull it off and spark the flame.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda nodded along as relief came over her tense body. “That’s a smart little trick actually,” And given how even veterans of the order were hesitant to draw it, it must have been a necessary one in many cases. “I’ll make sure to use it.” </p><p> </p><p>“I hope you won’t have to.” Said Maxwell plainly. “But I applaud your humbleness.” </p><p> </p><p>“Just trying to be honest with you Maxy.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then you’re already one third of the way done.” He wrapped his staff once against the floor and nodded firmly. </p><p> </p><p>It took Amanda a moment to realise what meant, but when it hit her, she didn’t seem as happy as he did. <em> “I’ve still got one lie to clear up….” </em> She thought of Lotte and the truth untold at Ludinghal. They were interrupted, and for good reason. <em> “Got no excuse now though.” </em>And she was glad not to have one. </p><p> </p><p>“Is something wrong?” </p><p> </p><p>“Hm?” Amanda blinked. “Oh, nothing.” She straightened her posture and loosened her shoulders. “Just putting things together in my head; don’t worry about it.” Maxwell raised a flat hand; he needn’t hear more. Amanda’s words were crystal. “In the meantime, I’m gonna go get a lay of the land and greet some of the folks around here; see who’s new and who remembers.” </p><p> </p><p>“Ohh, I’m certain all the locals remember you.” Maxwell wagged a finger at his would-be apprentice. </p><p> </p><p>“Tch, I know Benjy will.” That wiley fisherman no doubt had some sort of scheme going on right now, one that would help them in the coming fight. Amanda could feel it in her bones.  “I’ll see you around then, Maxwell.” </p><p> </p><p>“Aye, be seeing you.” He waved. “Don’t forget to rest up though. It’s late.” Amanda made for the door, responding only with a backward wave of her own in response; she’d take care of herself. Maxwell sighed with relief. <em> “The new blood really is going to be what rekindles this flame, isn’t it?” </em> A shiver ran along his spine, an unnatural sort, the kind that warmed rather than chilled. <em> “Aye…. He’d be proud if he could see her now.” </em> He heard no words from Jehanne or Vaal, but he liked to believe that they heard him. <em> “I just hope he’s alright…. I’ll be sad beyond my years if he misses out on the chance to see this order shine for the first time in decades.” </em>Somewhere, somewhen, Maxwell knew Asgall was doing all he could to reunite with the Balefire. </p><p> </p><p>The ascendant vampire was anything but easily subdued.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>“HRRGHGH! HRAAAACH! HURRRK! AARRRAAAAACH!” </em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Asgall was indeed <em> far </em> from subdued.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>“GRRRAAAACH! KRRAHHAH!” </em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>But he was <em> hardly </em> himself anymore.</p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“OOOOOUUT!” </em> </b> The rare cry for release, for sanity, escaped his hoarse, rotten throat. <b> <em>“RELEEEEEEAAAARAAAAACH!” </em> </b>Only to quickly devolve back into the primal screeches of a thing that should not be. </p><p> </p><p>Cause and Effect both had to add extra layers of stone over his spherical prison, and not just because he was making slow but steady progress toward an escape; his screams were just that insufferable. They made devising a plan all the more difficult now that the pressure was on; Bathory had shown her hand, but she’d done so when it seemed like she already held all the aces. Cause, Effect, and Will then were looking for the jokers in the deck, the former two of which doing their damndest to get that ritual of theirs finalized <em> far </em> ahead of schedule. It was an impossible task, but one that just may have led them toward an alternate solution. If the Fates could repair the flow time unannounced, it was likely that the Bathory’s would be caught off guard enough so as to be unable to enact their own dark ritual. More importantly, it would leave the shorebound calvary of witches little time to respond. They might not even realize that the battle had resumed before it was well and truly over, granting the Fates ample opportunities to ensure all other parties but themselves lost. </p><p> </p><p>Sadly for them, despite the names they gave to themselves, fate was not on their side. </p><p> </p><p>“Accursed fizzling gibberish!” Shouted Cause at yet another failed attempt at… well, whatever that spell was supposed to be. </p><p> </p><p>Effect held her nose shut and turned away from the wretched pile of materials. The spell had worked, but in the <em> worst </em> way possible. “Gods…! That stench!” The target of the fizzled incant was, mercifully, not alive, but after just a few moments, there were many, <em> many </em> colonies of things that were now growing off of it. Fungus, mold, bacteria, viruses, retro and otherwise; the former sheet of iron, now a rusted mess that was disintegrating before their very eyes, was aging so fast that the germs on it were evolving at an uncontrollable rate. Even Sucy would find it discomforting, fungus or no fungus. </p><p> </p><p>“Agh! Enough of this!” Cause spread her fingers and faced her palms toward the writing mass of evolving fauna. In an instant, magma streamed from her hands and coated the failed experiment in a thick layer of quickly drying lava, thanks to Effect’s watery spells to help cool things down. After swatting away a hefty bit of smoke, or blowing it away in Effect’s case, the Twin Fates regarded each other and the slagged pile with disgust. “Tell Us again, sister,” Cause barely withheld the frustration in her voice.”What was that spell supposed to do?”</p><p> </p><p>Effect pinched two fingers along her right temple as she violently gestured, forcing a slab marked in Nahuatl symbols to rise up from the abyssal nothingness of their realm. She read them for the umpteenth time that hour. “If We’re understanding this correctly,” Which she wasn’t. “It was supposed to cause an acceleration of time upon an object.” Through the usage of more absurd, but very specific and interconnected reagents, of course; more moth wings, exact amounts of grains of sand and salt, liberal usage of things that are colored or comprised of gold, and for whatever ungodly reason, a constant arrangement of things in triangular patterns. “And We think it did exactly what it was supposed to do….” The Twins still never figured out why triangles mattered so much. “Just in a very… unconventional way.”</p><p> </p><p>“Unconventional!?” Cause spit when she spoke. Maybe she even meant to. “Oh it worked it alright! It worked TOO good!” </p><p> </p><p>“That’s what We mean! It didn’t stop!” Effect cast aside the tablet with a flick of her wrist. Not even Fiela’s purring and rubbing against her master’s ankles could soothe Effect’s frustration. “If this were any sane kind of magic, then there would be a definitive stop point for an effect like that! Things keep going until they hit a wall in a vacuum! Gravity comes into play! The energy source runs dry! The magic dies out eventually! The reagents are consumed! It's the basic principles of magic and physics!”</p><p> </p><p>“And yet here we are!” Cause threw her arms wide, gesturing to the horrible situation they were in. “Pushed for time that stands still to our endless dismay, possibly dooming this world to die at the hands of one mad creature or another!” She brought one fist to repeatedly knock against her own forehead, once after every few words. “All because, of some, inane, inscrutable, spell!” It didn’t even hurt. If anything, it distracted her body from the near constant migraine she’d had since that disaster of a war council ended. She channelled her anger into an accusatory finger she leveled at Effect. “And all you have Us doing is chasing spectres, and playing with defunct magic!” </p><p> </p><p>“Defunct!? Spectres!?” Effect prodded right back, quite literally pushing Cause back by a few inches just from how hard she jabbed at the Red Witch's chest. “This is our one and only lead! It’s not Our fault that this school of magic makes about as much sense as you do half the time!”</p><p> </p><p>Cause could feel her teeth grinding as she stumbled back. She retorted viciously once she steadied herself. “Ah, so I’M the mad one now!?” The time for pleasantries and “We’s” had gone in her eyes. “Lest we forget which of us suggest that we consort with the Bathorys in the first place!”</p><p> </p><p>“ME!?” Effect leaned back, dejected. “A pox on you and your lies! You were the one who dashed MY idea to weaponize the rising distrust of magic against Luna Nova!”</p><p> </p><p>“Pff!” Cause practically backhanded her sister with a dismissive wave. “As if the witch hunts of the middle ages did us any good! All that plan did was make our prey better at hiding!” She wouldn’t admit that said witch hunting was her idea; it was one of the few things her befuddled memory was very certain of. “Besides! We didn’t have time for such a scheme! You heard the Pursuer! It won’t wait any longer!”</p><p> </p><p>“Pursuer be damned!” Cursed Effect. “When did a thing which cannot die nor has ever lived start caring about time anyway!? Why does it matter now!? We were never given such a deadline in the past, and now we’re getting one dropped on us in such short order without an explanation!?”</p><p> </p><p>The signs of suspicion gave Cause pause, though she was too wrapped up in being mad at her twin to pick up on the genuine concern. “My point stands! You got us into this mess! And I’m not just talking about those wretched leeches!” She gave the Witch in Green a deathly glare, one Effect returned with greater intensity. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t you dare...” She hissed through grit teeth. “Even TRY to insinuate that <em> I </em>am the sole reason we are here!” Effect was so mad she almost took a swing at Cause. For the benefit of everyone’s sanity though, Will was not far, and had done well to formulate a way out of this. </p><p> </p><p>“ENOUGH!” The hairs on the Twins’ backs stood up. They turned around to face the fast approaching Will as she continued to bark her words. “Our time grows short, and we have nothing to gain from such costly and esoteric experiments, OR from your childish squabbling!” The Bearer of The Mantle floated in from nowhere, her posture as sharp as her daggered words. She was as mad as she had been in decades. “Our energy is better reserved for the day of reckoning, and your waste breath arguing!” She didn’t even bother commenting on the near casual sedition that was sprinkled into either Twin’s rhetoric. Will agreed, in a way; Pursuer be damned, there was to be done. “Now, We demand you pay heed, for Our patience is long gone, and We will take <em> any </em>lapse in attention very seriously!” She spoke with the quickness and urgency a would-be end of the world scenario demanded. This was no time for games. “Do We make Ourselves clear!?” Her hood seldom obscured her stolen face anymore, for her eyes had been aglow ever since she spiralled down into this wrathful state of mind. </p><p> </p><p>Will’s piercing gaze alone was enough to scare the foolishness right out of Cause and Effect. “Yes Will!” They responded like misbehaving soldiers caught in the act and bowed their heads deeply in somewhat forced shame. </p><p> </p><p>After a moment or two spent regarding either witch, Will let out a long, drawn out sigh, permitting the Twins to raise their heads and meet her gaze. “Good…. Now. First and foremost, what is the status of Chaos?” Her rage was subdued by maybe a fraction of a percent, but it was notable in her voice somehow.</p><p> </p><p>“She yet lies,” Began Cause. “Dormant! Unmoving! Unwaking!” Finished Effect. </p><p> </p><p>Will sharply inhaled, minding her already explosive temper. “We assumed as much, yet still hoped otherwise…. No matter. Our victory shall be had with or without Chaos’ aid.” Her words spoke to an assurance and confidence that, in truth, had begun to wane in the heart of the Witch in White. “However, we must admit defeat where it is plain; Bathory played us for fools, and we should never have trusted her ilk.” She began to walk in a wide circle around the Twins, her pace as rushed as her speaking. “They were too well aware of the situation, and too ambitious for us to control…. Now we must align ourselves with them for face destruction.” </p><p> </p><p>“But what of The Pursuer’s warnings!?” Asked Effect. </p><p> </p><p>“Will they not wreak havoc in victory!?” Followed Cause. </p><p> </p><p>Will held her left fist sidelong to her mouth and gently bit the side of her pointer finger as she searched for the words she needed to explain her plan neatly. “It will require careful timing, and an unfortunate amount of aid from our true enemies; the witches of Luna Nova.” </p><p> </p><p>“Madness!” The Twin’s balked as one. “Help from them!?”</p><p> </p><p>“Stay your tongues and We shall explain!” Will’s viscous chiding silenced both Cause and Effect, though they remained fidgety and uncertain now. “Put simply, the Bathorys have discovered a ritual that shall allow them to become more powerful. Be it of eld of olde origin is of no concern to us, but what is a concern is the truth in her claim.” The trio were skeptical at first, and the Twins still were, but Will had come to a most despairing conclusion. “Our prisoner. The beast that We brought back here; <em> that </em> is what she seeks to become and more….” Will’s angered tone became more flat and lifeless as her resolve briefly faltered. A pause allowed for the Asgall’s terrible scratching and bellowing to sound softly from within his prison. “Chaos could vouch for Our experiences. That creature overpowered Us, and it would have slain us both had We not brought it here to be contained.” </p><p> </p><p>“Can it truly not be killed?” Asked Effect. </p><p> </p><p>“It can.” Will nodded solemnly. “But not normally. Not this one…. Others like it would be easier to lay to rest for good, but this one is... unique.” To their benefit and detriment. </p><p> </p><p>Cause leaned back slightly and raised a brow. “How do you know this? Were you holding out on us? ” </p><p> </p><p>“I knew of the creature’s existence when the world was brighter; before we were betrayed.” Will’s statement had Cause gulping back her accusations and apologies; silence was preferable now. “It goes by many names, and has sworn its endless life to serve the Balefire; a slave to Vaal and Jehanne….” Will completed her third rotation around the Twins and faced the two of them, her arms held behind her back. “But on two conditions. It would never truly die, even should its heart be destroyed. Calixtus, that bandaged whore, she and her matriarchs put a binding enchantment on it, removing the creature’s need for blood while enslaving it to the Balefire’s power.” She slowly, ruefully, gestured toward the boulder prison. “What we’re dealing with now is a leech that has grown beyond its station as a parasite. It would possess immense power had it continued to indulge in the flesh and blood of mortals and Fae, but no…. This one had a shred of humanity left in it.” Vaal had remarked on the extraordinary nature and history of Asgall in the past. The great Witch-Smith had claimed him to be un-living proof of the capacity for change and reform in even the most “horrifying” of individuals. Will never quite bought that interpretation. A leech is a leech. Parasites are as parasites do. “Yet even in this underfed state it was able to withstand my magicks.” </p><p> </p><p>Effect covered her mouth with both hands as her eyes fell upon the earthen prison. She felt a pang of fear run up her leg, back, and neck. “S-Surely that’s…. Impossible! There’s no way that… that this is….”</p><p> </p><p>Cause stepped forward aggressively, masking her own fright with growing mistrust. “You must have been holding back, Will!” She made a wide, harsh gesture with her right hand. “There’s nothing in this world next to the most ancient of Fae and the Oldest of witches who could compare to the Pact’s—” Ringing! Terrible ringing and trembling in her skull. Cause could feel an unnatural but familiar pressure on her head, and it nearly brought her to her knees. </p><p> </p><p>Will had met her red robed sister’s denial with a forceful step forward in turn and a raised fist that glowed hot like the sun. “Did We not warn you of lapses in attention!?” Cause hissed and nodded painfully in acknowledgement as she stumbled. Effect went to her aid instinctively, still looking scared beyond her years given her powers as a Fate witch. “Then you will both do well not to ask such pointless questions!” Will softened her fist and let the arm go slack. Cause was released and left panting, heaving, held up only by her twin, while Will spoke up. “We knew that creature was not protected from our direct wrath under the rulings of the pact. A servant of the Eight Traitors it may be, but it is neither mortal, nor witch, nor bonded Fae.” Will inhaled sharply and exhaled heavily. “But yes, we did not use our <em> full </em> power, but only in the interest of not breaking the Pact.” The proximity of the witches made it too risky to simply obliterate the whole mountain. “Even so, a concentrated blast like that should have been enough to evaporate anything standing in Our way, and yet it was not only able to match Our strength, but supercede it!” Will dashed her fists by her sides and began to make furious circles around the Twins again. </p><p> </p><p>Effect found a quiet moment to speak up, though she too feared punishment, and so she spoke sheepishly. “And… y-you believe that it could grow more powerful were it to… feed?” Will did not respond, but her continued circling and measuredly heavy breathes served as enough of an affirmation for Effect. “By the gods…. The Pursuer wasn’t lying! If Bathory achieves this power, t-t-then she will—!”</p><p> </p><p>“Cease your snivelling and listen!” Hissed Will, not even bothering to look Effect in the eye when she addressed her. Both Twins tightened up their posture and kept as still as possible. “Now, the creature is still a useful tool. We plan to unleash it should the worst transpire….” A sigh followed. Will was getting ahead of herself. “We require the aid of those witches though because they will be the ones we need to disrupt Bathory’s transformation. We have no doubts that she will attempt it during the conflict when the bloodletting is well unwayt within and without her fortress. We ourselves <em> could </em> disrupt the ritual with ease, but to do so prematurely and blatantly could see the Bathory’s attacking their nose to spite their faces, so to speak….”</p><p> </p><p>Cause, having finally recovered, grunted a response. “Urgh…. You mean they would turn all attention to us? Even if it meant defeat?”</p><p> </p><p>Will nodded. “You saw how they spoke of things. Theirs is an existence without true consequences…. They are wholly disconnected from the real world, and instead bound by the absurd logic of their own hunger.” Her eyes wandered upward toward nothing. She leered into the blackness above. “Madmen like them would destroy all life if it meant one-upping their so-called lessers.” </p><p> </p><p>“Then how might we set the witches upon their ritual? Would that not require that the battle already be lost?” Effect couldn’t imagine a scenario where such a thing didn’t occur without the throne room being stormed, or the ship being destroyed wholesale. </p><p> </p><p>“Not necessarily.” Will halted her stride and glanced down toward Cause and Effect. “We will utilize the prisoners. Even a small amount of escapees, if aided discreetly, could disrupt the ritual.” Like any form of magic, the greater the effect, the more complex the spell had to be. In the case of Elizabeth’s ascension, Will knew for certain that this would be a ritual of the utmost intensity. “And in the matters of misdirection, We know of no better witches but yourselves to carry out this ploy.” </p><p> </p><p>“Truly?” Cause and Effect almost felt appreciated, but that feeling was just a magically induced migraine away from disintegrating. </p><p> </p><p>“Indeed. We demand as Bearer of the Mantle that the two of you circumnavigate the castle, and do everything in your power to learn of how this ritual shall proceed, all while keeping secret your intentions, and if possible, your very presence.” Will regarded her own hand as she opened her palm and summoned up an augury orb, granting her sight over the looming castle. “The interruption of the ritual by the escaped witches won’t raise any immediate alarms that we’ve turned against our erstwhile allies, and even the most minor of intrusions should produce<em> spectacular </em> results.” With luck, Bathory herself would be melted into a pile of ooze, or be consumed in an unnatural fire.... Were it so easy. “More importantly, it shouldn’t have that much of an effect on the warriors already engaged with the witches. They won’t know anything has gone awry until it’s too late, when we can snuff out their miserable lives without issue.” </p><p> </p><p>“What of the interlopers then!?” Asked Cause as she summoned her own augury orb which showed the town of Porthcurno at night. “Their numbers swell on the shores! Jehanne and Vaal’s pawns will no doubt be among them!” </p><p> </p><p>“We shall handle them.” Will assured. “And should Chaos awake, she too shall aid Us in our effort to direct the flow of battle in our favor.” </p><p> </p><p>“You know it won’t be that simple.” Cautioned Effect. “Any number of things could go wrong with this plan: We could fail to interrupt the ritual, or the Bathorys could simply get trounced on the ground! What do we do then? Do We let her go through with the ritual?”</p><p> </p><p>Will frowned deeply and turned her head away. She had hoped that they wouldn’t need to even consider such a possibility, but alas, in their time of weakness, it seemed that Effect was more cautious than even Will. “We are aware that it is not a perfect plan, but We also lack reliable alternatives…. As for the scenario in which our true enemies prevail over the Bathory’s, and none the reclaimers have fallen….” Nikolai and Elizabeth’s words rang in her ear. Chaos’ wanton disregard for the Pact’s rulings flashed before her mind’s eye. The Pursuer’s presence could be felt upon her, looming, encroaching from the dark. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Arrivals…. Ascendancy….” </em> Will couldn’t decide which was worse. <em> “We could avoid both fates if we could only strike the blow ourselves!” </em> In fact, two thousand years of strife and woe could have been avoided had The Fates been permitted to act without limit. It would have taken but a decade to wipe the legacies of the Eight Traitors from existence, and only another few decades more to ensure that magic would be sealed for millenia to come. <em> “Were it so easy…. If we could only have rested centuries ago…. Maybe then….” </em> Will’s eyes lingered on her hands, then on Cause and Effect, and then on the distant blackness where Chaos rested. <em> “Maybe then we would still be something close to ourselves.” </em> The Witch in White was crestfallen, depressed. It was the closest she’d ever felt to being as despaired as she did on the day of her first death. <em> “Damn it all….” </em> </p><p> </p><p>Will didn’t know if she could choose. She was usually so decisive, so quick to be sure of herself without regret, but now? Now she was caught between three dooms. Doom by way of an arrival, doom by way of a mad blood goddess run amok over the world, and doom by way of defiance in the face of The Pact. <em> “A selfless woman would give her life for what she believed in.” </em> Her fists tightened, her jaw was clenched. <em> “And yet I can’t just die! Not now! Not after so much struggle! So much pain!” </em> The notion not only made her fearful, but it insulted her. <em> “I did not come this far to die now! I did not slave away for centuries only to be… to be….” </em> Cause and Effect cocked their heads. A sad sort of expression was taking over Will’s face. <em> “No, no, no, no, no! This is not who you were!” </em> She reviled the words that had spilled from her own mind. Had she a whip, she’d give herself lashings. <em> “This was not who you were meant to be!” </em> Disgust welled in her throat like bile. She nearly let a tear wash down her face. <em> “This is not who I am!” </em> But, true to her title and devotion, she summoned up her immense willpower to suffocate the emotions that plagued her thoughts. <em> “You will not become like those leeches! You will not be so vain as to put your own life before untold billions!” </em> The tear was evaporated from her ducts before it could escape. <em> “You won’t become like the Deceiver…. This hypocrisy will go no further!” </em> Elizabeth and Nikolai’s prodding had pushed Will far. Now she stood with her back to the edge, defiantly staring those wretched, noble parasites in the eye. <em> “Who dares wins.” </em>She hissed to herself. </p><p> </p><p>“Will?” Asked the Twins as one. “Are you—?”</p><p> </p><p>Will picked up as if nothing happened, ignoring and interrupting her sisters. “Then we will let fate decide which of us shall give themselves to the cause.” Will spoke with deadpan seriousness. No matter how closely Cause and Effect scrutinized Will’s expression, they could sense no irony or hyperbole. It shook them to their cores. </p><p> </p><p>“What…?” Cause was on the verge of an uproar. Effect meanwhile was speechless. “What did you say?”</p><p> </p><p>Will walked toward Cause calmly, her expression flat as it usually was, but her eyes remained bright and white, speaking to the anger which lurked beneath. “If we are left with a choice between an arrival and a world plagued by an empowered parasite, then one of us will need to make the ultimate sacrifice.” She got close enough to be but inches from Cause’s face, and now that Will was so close, Cause was once again put back in her place. “We either allow mankind and the earth to be ruined by a war between the eld, or we allow it to be ravaged by a hunger that can never be sated.” Will put her right hand on Cause’s shoulder, and her left hand on Effect’s shoulder. Her grip was firm, but strangely comforting. It was only then that the Twins sensed Will’s open weakness. “It pains me to even consider, but this is what must be done.” She met Effect’s harrowed gaze. “Pursuer be damned. Pact be damned. Our world is at stake, and We will not allow the eld to dictate our fate.” Never again. “It is why we took on these names,” Will shook her sisters slightly. “We are Fate witches! They who turned the course of history for the better, no matter the cost! They who did the impossible! The unthinkable! The improbable…!” Will began to breath heavily, only for her pride to be checked by the gloom of their situation. A sigh escaped her lips. “They who gave everything to vengeance.” She let her hands fall from their shoulders then and held them at her waist. Her palms were faced upward, and they began to glow with white and purple light. </p><p> </p><p>The Twins’ eyes fluttered, blinking as the blinding spell passed in but a moment’s time. When both could see again, they looked down to find a small, white, five sided pyramid in Will’s hands. It was marked with little purple scratches at each vertex, the lowest being one, and the highest being four. “Dice….” Whispered Effect. “We leave our fate to dice…?” </p><p> </p><p>“Would you prefer we draw straws?” Said Will flatly. </p><p> </p><p>Effect felt weak. Her vision blurred for a brief moment. She imagined it, drawing straws, playing some other game of chance, or even arguing over who deserved to suffer most. She didn’t get far into either day-mare before she felt her stomach lurching, and her spirit sinking. “No…. No this will do.” She shuttered. </p><p> </p><p>Cause held a hand over her heart as if she were dying. “So it’s truly come to this then?” She asked Will, begging for it to be a dream. Will could only nod. Cause’s head drooped. Were it not for the closeness of her sisters, she would have fallen to her knees. That’s when it struck her; sisters. “What about Chaos?!” She snapped at Will, looking the would-be leader of their coven dead in the eye. “What if the die calls her number?! What if she yet sleeps when the time comes!? How could we enter her into this game of death without her waking consent!?” Will felt the hairs on her back stand up. She had almost forgotten. “We refuse. No, I! I REFUSE!” Cause jabbed at her own chest. “I refuse to allow this gambit of yours until all of us agree!” Elemental and eldritch power surged in Cause’s hands; fire, earth, and the power of the stars at her fingertips. She would not be bullied out of this position. </p><p> </p><p>Especially not with Effect’s backing. “We… I agree with my sister!” The Witch in Green hardened her expression, though she still looked like she was on the brink of sobbing. “I also refuse! If a game is to be played, then <em> all </em>players must be present!” Her own fingertips swirled with the might of wind and rain, and the darkness of infinite space. She too refused to yield.</p><p> </p><p>Were these normal circumstances, Will would have struck them both down. She had the power of the Mantle of The Pact. She was in command. It was her turn to decide the fate of The Fates…. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to command them as she once did. Instead, she felt a resigned smile crack her otherwise porcelainly flat face. The Twins reeled slowly in confusion. They feared the worst, “Very well,” But received only the warmth of a woman who they thought long dead. “I accept these terms.” Will, the True Will, spoke with ease, grace, regret, but above all, acceptance. “Chaos will be omitted so long as she sleeps. Should the hour come when the die must be cast, we shall count only the number present.” With a simple motion, Will turned over her hands, disappearing the dice she’d conjured, and let her hands rest at her sides. </p><p> </p><p>Effect could hold back the waterworks no more. To hear the kind voice of Will as she once was for the first time in ages, it sparked a new hope in the despondent Twins. “Will it finally end?” Effect drew close, tugging on Will’s left arm with the tenderness of a friend and sister; in name alone no longer. “If one of us must pass… will the rest finally be free?” Her teary eyes were alight with imagined futures. Maybe she and Cause could finally make amends, settle the debts, put the past behind them. Perhaps Chaos could be cured of her soul-sickness. Maybe WIll could learn to love again. <em> “Except… one of those futures will never come to pass.” </em>She didn’t know whether to be happy or horrified. She had to turn her head just a tad so that Cause wasn’t in her peripheral vision. Gods forbid either of them perished; Effect couldn’t handle being denied such closure after millenia of torment.</p><p> </p><p>Cause followed up, grabbing onto Will’s other arm with a much firmer grip, but one that still spoke to a great deal of caring. “You have to promise!” Cause demanded. “You have to promise that our mission will end here!” Her bluster and teeth gritting couldn’t hide the fear forever. It started to break through as she stuttered. “I… I… I-I won’t let any of us go if you don’t!” Cause pressed herself against Will in what may or may not have been an attempt at a hug. “And… and I won’t forgive you if you break that promise! I won’t, Will! I’ll never forget and I’ll never...!” Cause had to shut her eyes, but when that didn’t work, she had to try and omit Effect from her immediate memory; act as if she wasn’t there. “Just let it die Will! The Pursuer, The Deceiver, The Pact!” Cause buried her head into Will’s shoulder, muffling her cries. “Let it all die on that day!”  Effect also came close enough to fully embrace their stoic sister. She made a nodding gesture in silent agreement. “Let things return to normal…. Please.” Cause spoke for her sister as they squeezed Will tight. It took a few moments for The Witch in White to reciprocate, but after the memory of what it felt like to be loved returned to her, even in its most desiccated, barest and simplest form, for the first time in ages, the three embraced one another.</p><p> </p><p>It was a long torrid gesture. The three witches fumbled, having been forever changed by ages of hate. They nearly forgot how to show love to one another, reflected in their fumbling movements. Uncomfortable as it was, none of them wanted to let go. They were all themselves, their true selves, together again at last. Sadly, all three of them knew that it had to end soon. They had invented the persona’s of The Fate Witches for a reason; this sense of longing that hindered their ability to release one another was that reason. There was a war to end, a battle to be won, a fate to be changed. The witches agreed with a silent gasp, that on the count of Will’s “Three,” they would return to as they were. A moment passed, then another, yet even longer, and finally the three pushed off of one another with great force. The Fates were quick to slap themselves silly, pour water on their face, or forcibly crunch down a summoned rock in their hands, Will, Effect, and Cause respectively, just to calm their nerves and return to a “normal” state. Once they had one again become Will, Cause, and Effect, each of them panned between one another as they caught their breath. Then, after a short while of silent deliberation and waiting, each of them spun about on their heels and darted off into the darkness. They flew as fast as they could, like forest creatures encountering strangers at night. The prospect of joy was infectious, tantalizing, seductive! It could not be allowed to take root in them yet, not before victory was assured. Then, finally, once they could be certain of the world's survival, then they could let vengeance die with them.</p><p> </p><p>Each opened a portal all their own, en route to whatever destination would best suit their objectives. Cause would locate ample prisoners. Effect would determine the nature of the ritual, and how to best interrupt it, and Will would do her damndest to further embolden their army of enslaved Fae and monsters. </p><p> </p><p>That left Chaos and Asgall alone in their own maddened worlds. Asgall was doomed to suffer insanity until a return to the Balefire, or until his temporary death. Chaos, meanwhile, knew that there would be no peace in death. Her comatose mind was as active as ever, even if her body refused to move an inch. She was descending deeper than she ever had into the darkness of her visions. The futures, all possible futures that she knew of, sprang to life before her unwaking eyes. She could not blink. She could not look away. She could not ignore the billions of doomed fates that awaited this world and its inhabitants, Fae and human alike. Chaos’ memory was returning, heralding the end of the black’s first movement in this terrible symphony.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><hr/><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Rondo In Black | Prodigal Sons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>(Content warning throughout: Child Abuse/Trans Child Abuse reference. Reference to Self Harm and Suicide).</p><p>But blind to former as to future fate,<br/>What mortal knows his preexistent state?<br/>Who knows how long thy transmigrating soul<br/>Might from Bœotian to Bœotian roll?</p><p>-Alexander Pope, The Dunciad</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1axqpb5pJmZGrNuxI646zbC_xmabvcEmaqhswSuQU_qw/edit?usp=sharing">
    <strong>REPITION, REOCCURANCE, REVOLUTION, REINCARNATE;</strong>
  </a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1axqpb5pJmZGrNuxI646zbC_xmabvcEmaqhswSuQU_qw/edit?usp=sharing">
    <strong>THE ORACLE FORESEES AND REMEMBERS ALL;</strong>
    <b></b>
  </a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1axqpb5pJmZGrNuxI646zbC_xmabvcEmaqhswSuQU_qw/edit?usp=sharing">
    <strong>OF THIS CYCLE, AT LEAST. MAYBE MORE?</strong>
  </a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1axqpb5pJmZGrNuxI646zbC_xmabvcEmaqhswSuQU_qw/edit?usp=sharing">
    <strong>I CAN ONLY HOPE. I YEARN TO BE REMEMBERED</strong>
  </a>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cairo at night. A blazing star when seen from above. It’s ever active metropolitan center, and its thriving nightlife districts kept the city alight regardless of day or time. The luminescence of the wealthy city gave a bright shimmer to the Nile river when viewed from on high. Andrew Hanbridge was in just such a position to see that glimmering phenomena. The moon was just right, and the river-side clubs, towering hotels, and various other entertainment buildings were alive and well. It was cool outside, though Andrew himself wasn’t actually outside. It was just always like that, almost irregardless of season. He’d like to often say that his cigarette kept him warm, but he knew that was just a poor excuse for his habit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andrew took a long drag of his first smoke for the night. It was the only time he ever really indulged in the vice given his clientele's typical dislike of the club’s staff smelling of smoke. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“As if they don’t drink and smoke themselves half to death on the regular.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The irony that almost all of his wealthier-than-sin clients grated on him more, day by day. Not even the vista before him, beatific as it seemed, gave Andrew any sense of serenity or wonder. He’d been in the city long enough to know that this part of the Nile was polluted enough to be hazardous, and that just beyond the city’s “heart,” one would find that only a highway and some walls separated the metropolitan landscape of concrete and steel from the stone and woodwork houses and shacks of Cairo’s proles. It was especially easy to ignore that aspect of the city at night, what with all the bright lights crowding the horizon. Andrew always wondered if that detail had anything to do with why his “high society” clientele always came by in the evening. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I doubt it would be a conscious choice on their part.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He thought to himself as smoke lazily escaped his lips. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Not even Paul was that blatantly vile” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Andrew and his father, Paul Hanbridge, weren’t on speaking terms, let alone family terms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andrew could still remember the argument that went down between them rather clearly. Not all of it, of course, for Andrew himself believed the argument began long before it </span>
  <em>
    <span>technically</span>
  </em>
  <span> happened, as if the four years that passed since the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Noir Rod</span>
  </em>
  <span> incident occurred were all leading up to it. Now it was year five, going on six in about a week or so, and it would mark the beginning of Andrew’s second year alone. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It doesn’t feel that long anymore.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Andrew twirled the cigarette between his fingers. His eyes focused on nothing in particular, save maybe the faint reflection in the window that gave him a clear view of the city. Andrew looked naturally older. Age did to him what he expected it to: He was taller, broadly shouldered, and had a slightly more defined chin and cheekbone structure. His features were sharp, much like his suited dress, and his hair was in a style reminiscent of his old favorite. It parted slightly left of center, and rolled in short curled waves. He didn’t bother with expensive hair-care products like he used to, and “personal beauticians” were well and truly off the table, so he made do with his own hair-grooming skills. It usually came out looking plainer than his younger, wealthier style, but it served him well enough, and it mostly stayed the way he liked it after a hard day’s work. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> The window itself panned from floor to ceiling, and formed a complete circle around three sub-penthouse level floors, each a part of a larger bar, club, dining hall; whatever this place was. It was called the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Window To The Nile</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and it catered to every whim its clients had, cost be damned! If they could afford residents at the penthouse, they could likely afford the lives of a few of the catering staff; Andrew included. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Indeed, the once praised and prized son of Paul Hanbridge, formerly esteemed parliamentary representative of England, knighted by the grace of her majesty the queen, was now a bartender and a server. The argument that saw him disowned by his father also had him stripped of just about all of his wealth. In truth, none of it was Andrew’s to begin with. Everything was bought and held under his father’s name, and when the day had come for their building tensions to erupt into not just a verbal altercation, but a physical one, Andrew was twenty three years old. He was lucky not to be charged with assault and battery, but he wasn’t lucky enough to not end up as a tabloid favorite. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Respected representative beaten by his son!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>They said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Family and politics: How the Hanbridge name fell to pieces.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Others said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Former representative taken to hospital for injuries inflicted by his own son!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>That headline in specific made Andrew sick to this day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes. To the hospital. For a bruised jaw, and a scrape on his eyebrow.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Andrew had to be mindful not to clench his fists so as not to crush his cigarette, and instead took another draw of it. He was a man of immense patience, and careful tact. It’s what made him so good at a job like this. No matter how poorly the attendees treated him, he could always give them the most deadpan yet apologetic of looks, and see the “mistake” corrected without ever even flinching. Jeeves; they liked calling a lot of the staff who were men that. Hobson was another one the English clients liked using. Sometimes it was just “Butler,” and no one who worked at the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Window</span>
  </em>
  <span> knew whether they were using it like the name butler, or in reference to the job. Maybe it was both. Andrew chuckled. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“A butler whose name is Butler…. Wouldn’t that be something?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The silly thought put him in a creative mood. He thought of writing a little short story, no more than a page and a half; something of a comedic skit about a butler named Butler, likely in service to some intolerable lord or master of the house with an equally silly name. A cat would also be involved. Somehow. Andrew would make it work, much l;ike how he made every other part of life “work.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Terrance,” A voice from behind the bar called out to Andrew. It was a young man’s voice, local Egyptian in accent. “Did you finish cleaning up the stage and the instruments?” Andrew glanced back over his shoulder and blew out another plume of smoke. Karim, his friend and co-worker, had just finished cleaning up behind the bar. “And uh… your smoke.” He gestured to his mouth with two fingers, mimicking a smoking posture. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” Andrew blinked curiously, snapping himself out of his daydream to find his cigarette burning down to the end of the butt. “Tch!” Andrew shook his head and snuffed it out in a nearby ashtray. He let time get away from himself again. “Sorry about that,” He approached the bar with some haste. “But yes, the stage is clean front and back.” Andrew’s diligence never left him. He felt like he’d changed a lot since his “exile,” but, in truth, he hadn’t changed much at all in terms of behavior. It was more his attitude and demeanor that shifted; perspective and whatnot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Karim leaned forward against the bartop with both hands flat against the shiny black surface. He was a bit shorter than Andrew, who stood at five feet ten inches, and was much wider. Karim was a round man in face and body. His cheeks were supple, his face was tall but full, and his arms were uniformly thick and hairy, visible only because he had rolled up his suit-sleeves. His chin and upper lip were similarly hairy, marked by dark brown hair that formed a full, short trimmed beard to match his plainly short cut hair; nearly a buzz. He was brown skinned, if a little fair looking, had brown eyes, and while he was certainly heavyset, he was much like Jasminka in the sense that he was clearly packing muscle. “Are you feeling alright, Terry?” He sounded genuinely concerned, though not extremely so. “You’ve been staring off into space a lot.” He also sounded like he had a good relationship with Andrew, which he did. “Something on your mind?” They were each other’s go-to chatting partner as far as the workplace went.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andrew shrugged it off as he meticulously adjusted his cuffs. “Ah, well, the usual.” They were decently close outside of work as well. They grabbed a few drinks or some smokes every now and then, spent hours hanging out by the Nile’s edge, maybe a movie here or a horse race there; nothing spectacular, but special nonetheless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you looking short on rent this month?” Karim began to instinctively reach for his wallet, but stopped when Andrew groaned and raised a hand to stop him. Karim put on a slightly frustrated look and put one hand to his forehead. “Oh come on, Terry. Just let me pay you back already.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not short on rent.” Andrew assured, minding his tone as always. “And you can stop calling me Terrence,” He paused to take a quick look around, confirming his suspicions. “All of the attendees are long gone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Karim shook his head and stifled a chuckle. “You know what I’m going to say to that Terry.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> know that I don’t have any idea what ‘looking like a Terry,’ means.” Andrew leaned against his forearms and slumped forward against the bar. The old him wouldn’t have dared allow himself to enter such a slovenly posture, but spending hours on your feet doing manual labor every day quickly taught you how to find “innovative” ways to rest your body on the go. “But I’m being serious: My rent is fine. My rent is always fine. You know that.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, after your bike got ruined I thought maybe you’d need some help.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A bicycle doesn’t cost that much.” Especially the shitty one that Andrew bought. “Besides, it’s saturday.” He patted his coat pocket, the one over his heart that was filled with a neatly folded stack of bills ranging from ones to hundreds. “And they </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> liked my performance tonight.” It was the one aspect of his job that he could genuinely smile about, saturdays, and the sweet satisfaction of wooing a crowd with his piano skills. “If anything, I should be asking </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> if you’re short on rent.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Karim wiped his face and turned almost all the way around as he waved Andrew off. “I told you, you never have to worry about me, so don’t worry.” They’d been down this road and many others before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Andrew snickered. “Then I hope you don’t mind if I tell you the same exact thing.” He raised his head and posture up enough to make an attempt at cracking his own back unsuccessfully. “Hng….” Once he was done with that, he settled back down to a casual posture. “But since I know you won’t, how about a shot of brandy.” Kamir nodded approvingly and got busy pouring the two of them a shot for the road each. They weren’t allowed to just take from the stock, of course, but no one kept track, and there weren’t any cameras around to spot them; the lively party goers who practically had “scandal” as their middle name were grateful for that fact.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really though,” Began Kamir as he poured the first shot. “What’s up with you? That’s the fourth time this week you’ve almost burned your hand like that.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve just been tired.” Andrew wouldn’t admit it, but he actually had singed his left hand one morning when he dozed off while holding a lit cigarette. “A lot of things have been on my mind. The usual, like I said.” The question haunted Andrew ever since he threw that punch at his father: Where do I go from here? To Cairo, apparently. Beyond that? Well, therein lay the problem. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmmm….” Karim poured the second shot, set the bottle down, and shifted the first over to Andrew. “Did you hear back from that talent scout?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” Flat as ever, Andrew hid his disappointment. “I never got a call back, and I haven’t seen him since.” He took the shot of brandy in his hand and gingerly tilted it back and forth, careful not to spill a drop. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahhhh…. That’s a shame. A real shame.” Karim shook his head and set aside the brandy as he took up his own shot. “I hope you’re not taking it badly, Andrew. That sharmouta wouldn’t know talent if he stepped in it.” He reached over and casually jostled Andrew’s leaning arm. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrew simply chuckled in response. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t need to be comforted.” There was no use just holding onto the drink. Bottoms up he went, downing the shot with ease. “You know me: I don’t let myself get too invested in pipe dreams like that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Karim rolled his eyes as he downed his own shot. “Yes, yes, the prince of pessimism is at it again.” A lazy, open handed gesture went Andrew’s way. “Really, Terry, when are you going to get back in the saddle?” Here they went again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andrew thumbed the inside of his cheek. “I don’t remember owning a horse.” Maybe dry humor would get them off topic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nah, nah, I’m being serious Terry.” So much for that. “I feel like you’ve been getting quieter by the day. Slower too.” Karim leaned closer, folding one arm over the other as his expression firmed up a bit. “Even your song tonight seemed…. Ach.” His eyes went from left to right as he searched for the correct english term, knowing Andrew’s Arabic was still a bit rough. “Lacking? Limp? Something like that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andrew took a deep breath and set aside his shot glass with a deliberate and slow pace. “As I said, I am tired. That’s all.” Not really, but he wasn’t much for conversing about things like this; whatever this was. “Though I’ll admit I could use a break.” He would say that much at least, if only to get Karim off his back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When’s the last time you took a day off anyway?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Two months ago, on the second.” Andrew knew the day exactly. His memory was a phenomenal thing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” Karim pulled back and went to put the shot glasses and brandy bottle away. “You’re always working yourself to the bone. No wonder you’re exhausted.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andrew sighed a silent breath of relief. Him and Karim and had been on about Andrew’s near nonexistent drive to do much of anything here and there before, usually when they were a few shots in, or out by the Nile. Their talks never really went anywhere; it just made things awkward, mostly because Andrew was an awkward man. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“At least he cares.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Andrew didn’t know where he’d be without a friend like Karim around. A actually, he did: His social life would consist of staring at  the ceiling waiting for work. Not ideal. “The news hasn’t been helping.” Said Andrew somewhat abruptly, hoping to further change the subject. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Does it ever?” Karim had his back to Andrew and kept himself busy organizing the bottles. “What happened this time? Another curse proven true? Dunewyrms causing accidents again? More El Nadaha ‘sightings?’” That had been the standard fare of Egypt’s magical news. It was either some ancient artifact turned out to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> enchanted or cursed, Wyrms awoke from under ages of desert sand and started romping about the countryside, or Siren like beings, supposedly, drew men to their deaths in the Nile, drowning them in a stupor. Like many other nations, Egypt’s government and general populace didn’t take well to the return of magic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andrew shook his head and reached for his phone. “No. It’s international, actually.” Just as he grabbed it, the device buzzed. “Hm?” He pulled it out from his pockets and stood up straight. A simple click with his phone showed his background screen, a shot from atop the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Window</span>
  </em>
  <span> building during a summer twilight. Overtop it was a notification, a Fijit message. It read:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Franklin Bellview has sent you a message!</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was a name Andrew hadn’t seen in a while; three months and four days to be exact.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Call me ASAP. We’ve got a problem.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ohh, you mean those attacks happening in the UK?” Karim had just turned around when he asked that. “Worried about home?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andrew gently bit his lower lip for a moment before he mustered a response to Karim. “Not exactly.” He sounded rushed, and he looked a little worried. “Excuse me. I need to make a call.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That set off alarm bells for Karim. “Did someone you know get hurt?” Even a little bit of worry on Andrew’s part was enough to signal the apparent severity of the issue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m hoping that’s not the case but….” Andrew gripped his phone tightly, stopped himself short of finishing that sentence, and sighed. “A moment.” Then he quickly walked back to the window while he dialed up Frank, leaving Karim to busy himself at the bar, a frown of worry on his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the phone began to ring, all Andrew could do was think to himself: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m certain things are fine.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He did his best to convince himself that his fears weren’t founded. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Luna Nova would be prepared for a threat like this. Akko alone causes enough chaos to warrant tight security measures.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The specifics of the damage were barely known outside of the UK and France, and even then, the news was rife with misinformation; Andrew had no idea. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Diana would be there as well. Her entire class would be more experienced by now….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Andrew tapped his foot impatiently as the dial tone went on. He couldn’t help but glance at the phone before putting it back to his ear. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“This better not turn into an argument again….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ten seconds passed by in what felt like an hour. Andrew shook his head frustratedly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Damnit Frank! You just texted me and now you’re</span>
  </em>
  <span>—” Only to stop himself short when he finally heard a voice come through.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Andrew? Can you hear me?” Frank was on the other line. He sounded distant, likely on speaker. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Frank? What’s going on? What is this about?” Andrew did his best to keep a level tone, and a quiet volume. No need to rouse suspicion from his coworkers, and Karim was likely worried enough as is. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s this about!?” Frank was insulted. The sound of rustling, ruffling, and zippers occasionally bled through the line. “Have you been living under a rock?” His voice was clearly getting louder and softer at random intervals. Frank was moving back and forth no doubt, doing something active. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. But I need you to be specific.” Andrew folded his free arm across his chest. “Is this about the terrorist attacks?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frank stomped over to his phone, as noted by the approaching rumbling sounds that preceded a much clearer response on Frank’s part. “It’s Luna Nova, Andrew! It’s not just on the mainland!” He was practically yelling into his phone. “It’s near Luna Nova, and I haven’t been able to contact Lotte for </span>
  <em>
    <span>three days</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Andrew’s heart sank. The air would be silent, if it weren’t for Frank’s heavy breathing. He must have been ran ragged these past few days. “And now I find out that Lotte’s been posting about how VAMPIRES have attacked the school, and how the entire island has been </span>
  <em>
    <span>frozen in time</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andrew’s eyes widened, but his face scrunched up. All of that sounded like complete nonsense. “Where did you learn about this?” He demanded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“From the forums that Lotte uses!” Frank had been shown it a long while back when Lotte got him into Nightfall. He read a few books before his law school prospects became too much to handle, but he casually browsed the fandom’s threads for fun. That, and while he hadn’t truly spoken with Lotte in years, he couldn’t help but think about her from time to time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’ll take your word for it.” Not all of it at least. “Now, what’s this about vampires?” Andrew wasn’t even going to get Frank started on the whole “time freezing” stuff. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look, it’s…. It’s a long—!” Frank pinched his nose and forced himself to calm down. “I’m just going to send you the thread. You can read it on your own time.” A few moments passed where Frank was furiously tapping away at his phone to get the link over to Andrew.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ding!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andrew’s phone buzzed again as the message went through. He was quick to open it and start scanning it line for line with a sharp look. Frank continued, now sounding distant again as he went back to whatever it was he was doing. “What matters is that there’s a group of people gathered at a town called Porthcurno that are trying to stop the attacks at the source!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s a what…?” Andrew scrolled further down the page. He reached the more recent posts about it, opened up a new tab, and searched for anything about it. Sure enough, other outlets were reporting about Porthcurno being a sort of holdout in the middle of a semi-dead zone as far as safety went in the UK. He almost couldn’t believe it. He’d heard the attacks were bad, but this bad? The news stations that had been reporting on it were either underselling it, or even they didn’t know how bad it was. Either way, the sound of a zipper interrupted Andrew’s train of thought, and made him realize something. “Wait, are you trying to—!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m going, Andrew!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Going where!?” Andrew nearly lost control of his volume there. He brought his phone up close to whisper to it just to be sure he didn’t. “You’re going to Porthcurno!?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes! And I want you to come with me!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you kidding me, Andrew?!” Frank strode back over to his phone, which he’d haphazardly tossed onto his apartment’s bed. He snatched it back up with manic energy. “Because our friends’ lives are in danger! Do we need a better reason?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How am I even—?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I already wired you money for a plane ticket!” There was no desire for thanks in Frank’s voice. This was just what needed to be done. Expenses be damned! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you insane!?” Frank’s gung-ho attitude made Andrew feel like he was talking to a whole different person. “You’re a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lawyer</span>
  </em>
  <span>; not even a full one yet!” Frank had one year to go. “And I’m a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bartender </span>
  </em>
  <span>who occasionally plays piano. So tell me, how are we supposed to help </span>
  <em>
    <span>witches</span>
  </em>
  <span> fight </span>
  <em>
    <span>vampires</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Andrew couldn’t see him, but Karim was looking mighty confused right about now. He had good hearing, and managed to pick up on at least one or two words there: Vampires being one of them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frank faltered in his conviction, if only for a moment. “My dad hunts foxes. I can get his gun!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You haven’t shot a fox in your life, let alone a </span>
  <em>
    <span>vampire</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Andrew wasn’t sure if he could put any further emphasis on the word “Vampire,” but he was certainly trying. “In fact, have you shot a gun at all?” Silence followed; relative silence that is. Frank couldn’t sit still his heart was racing so fast. “I thought so.” Chided Andrew. “I haven’t either. So what’s your plan then? How are a bartender and a lawyer-in-training going to help stop a—” Words escaped him briefly as he tightened his free hand into a fist and steadied his deadpan tone. “We’re not fighters, Frank. We’re not heroes. Don’t act like one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s more to this than just fighting!” Argued Frank. “And what about ‘friends whose lives are in danger’ didn’t you understand?” His zeal was only redoubled; Andrew’s argument was weak, and if there was anything lawyers were meant to do, and something that Frank excelled at, it was arguing. “Do you realize how much it actually takes to keep a town running? Logistically speaking? I’m not even talking about basic supplies here, I’m talking about manpower, Andrew, and I don’t think you understand just how much help those people need.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re both halfway across the world! How are we supposed to help like that?” Frank was in the states getting his degree, hence the packing and plane tickets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I already told you I bought your tickets,” Some paper shuffling could be heard on Frank’s end as he got his own ticket out from his pocket. “And I have mine. It’s not rocket science, Andrew!” The blonde haired Englishman was honestly confused by how obstinate Andrew was being. “They’d do this for us if we needed help, so why won’t you?” An appeal to emotion, and a strong one that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andrew breathed in sharply, his chest filling with resentment. “Frank, we haven’t talked to each other in just over three months, and you expect me to be able to drop everything at a moment's notice so that we can both fly over a thousand kilometers just to get ourselves killed?” Andrew could feel the dejection that shot through Frank over the phone. He didn’t need to see his face to know how disgusted Frank probably was with him right now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Andrew….” Frank’s defeated tone only confirmed what Andrew suspected. “There are peoples lives at stake here.... We have a chance to help them…!” The sound of creaking followed. Frank had sat himself down on his springy bed. “And you’re worried about what? Your time? The job you barely tolerate? Are you really that selfish?” Andrew felt his chest tighten. The word “selfish” rang in his ear with an ill sounding din. He had to give it to Frank, he knew how to hit Andrew where it hurt the most without even really trying. Or, maybe he was. Lawyers had their ways, after all. “I already told you we don’t need to fight. We just need to show up and help however we can. Maybe it’ll just be moving supplies, or maybe they need help with the wounded or taking care of kids. I don’t care if that’s not in our ‘job descriptions,’ it’s what needs to happen! This isn’t the time to make exc—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Frank!” Andrew raised his voice a hair, just enough to silence his friend. “Frank….” He was quick to lower it back down though, silently exhaling out the resentment that was starting to ferment in him. “Listen to me: I know you’re probably dead set on this already, and I know more than anyone else how futile it is to try and change your mind,” Seriously, it was almost impossible. Andrew was banking on that ‘almost,’ and on Frank’s general reasonability. “But before you hang up on me and run off to the airport, I want you to answer three questions. If you can answer them confidently then I’ll come to Porthcurno with you, no questions asked, no complaints, and no hesitation. Deal?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frank shifted around uncomfortably. He could see himself in the mirror across his room. His tan suit was a wrinkled mess, as was his hair. He looked like a stock-broker who just witnessed a crash. “Fine….” And his breath faintly smelled of beer. “I’ll hear you out.” He wiped his face and slumped forward, though not in total resignation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Good.” Andrew took a moment to collect himself. He needed to get this right on the first try if he was going to keep Frank out of trouble he couldn’t get out of. “First and foremost, how do you expect to get to Porthcurno?” Frank nearly burst out with a rare bit of genuine anger from the London born Brit, but Andrew kept going and raised his voice just enough to quell any knee-jerk reactions. “And I’m not talking about how we’re getting to England. You realize that none of the southern airports or seaports are going to be open, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We can get a car!” Snapped Frank defensively.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And drive past the Army Reserve roadblocks…?” Andrew’s reply was droll, almost exhausted sounding. He heard Frank audibly gulp and clear his throat. “What about the monsters? Maybe we can talk or sneak our way past the soldiers, but how do you plan to deal with that?” Frank was already sweating; this wasn’t helping. He was a good arguer, but that didn’t mean his arguments were always as good as he made them sound. Above all though, when he got latched onto an idea, it was difficult to pry him off, to Andrew’s growing frustration. “Alright… question three: How much do you actually know about this ‘holdout’ at Porthcurno? Honestly?” Once more, silence followed. Andrew pinched his own nose and nodded. “Ok, so nothing?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frank doubled down and struck the mattress pointlessly with his free hand. “I saw the reports! I read the post! I know what I need to know!” Though he wasn’t about to admit what was really sending him on this would-be warpath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Frank,” A sigh escaped the Piano Bartender’s lips. “I know you’re not stupid, but it sounds like you don’t even have a plan beyond running headlong into a warzone.” Andrew couldn’t sound more serious. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok, fine! You’re right!” Frank yielded, “I don’t have a plan! Not yet at least.” But not entirely. “It takes nearly half a day for either of us to get back to the UK by plane. That’s plenty of time for us to come up with a plan!” Anxiety brought the London Lawyer back onto his feet and had him circling the room aimlessly, his phone pressed tight to his left ear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter if we have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>plan</span>
  </em>
  <span> if the town has been leveled by the time we get there!” Insisted Andrew. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No!” Frank shook his head. “That’s not what’s gonna happen!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How do you know that?” Andrew would be shaking sense into Frank if he were physically there. “How do you know that you can do anything for them? How do you know that you won’t end up just being a burden and causing more harm than good? How do you—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Andrew, just…! Just shut it!” Frank felt a stress headache coming on. His skull was like a pressure cooker bound to burst. “I need to do this, alright?! I can’t just sit by and do nothing when people are in danger like this.” He was a “bleeding heart” to some, “Especially when people I care about are the ones who need help!” And an “activist” to others. “It’s the right thing to do! It’s the only thing we can do!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andrew palmed his face. “Jesus Christ, Frank….” He was leaning more toward the </span>
  <em>
    <span>“emotionally-sensitive-young-man-who-has-a-good-heart-and-just-wants-to-help-even-if-his-help-makes-things-worse”</span>
  </em>
  <span> interpretation. With that in mind, he couldn’t help but let his frustration loose. “You knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span>, exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> woman from that school.” Two, really; Diana and Lotte, but Frank seldom ever interacted with the former. “And you just </span>
  <em>
    <span>barely</span>
  </em>
  <span> know her.” Andrew could already tell just by the abject silence on Frank’s part that he’d come to regret this later, but Andrew wasn’t about to mince words. “It’s about her, isn’t it? You’ve worked yourself up into a frenzy over a woman who you barely even know, am I right?” Frank nearly choked on his anxiety when Andrew brought Lotte into it. “You’ve not stopped talking about her for years. It's pathetic, and genuinely creepy.” Andrew adjusted his collar, he felt the room getting warmer. “And it’s a stupid thing to die over.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you dare make this about any of that shite!” Countered Frank. “This is a disaster! People are dead and dying because of it! How is me caring about that somehow impossible to you!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I</span>
  <em>
    <span> don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> doubt that you care, that’s not the problem!” Andrew stopped worrying about being eavesdropped on at this point. He spoke his mind loud and clear: “What I’m doubting is that you’d do something like this if it weren’t for Lotte!” Only a bit of measured breathing went over the line then, mostly from Andrew’s side. He’d drawn a few wayward glances from other </span>
  <em>
    <span>Window</span>
  </em>
  <span> staff, Karim especially, but all but his burly friend shrugged it off and went about their closing business. Andrew persisted with his scathing accusations in spite of that, and in spite of Frank’s undoubtedly wounded pride. “I’m not trying to sound like a bastard, but I guess I’ve got to play devil’s advocate so you don’t end up getting yourself killed! Think, Frank! Think! She wouldn’t want that. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>don’t want that!” Andrew pressed his free hand’s fingertips around his heart. Still, Frank didn’t respond. “And more importantly, what you’re trying to do is just… it’s insane!” He was running out of steam now. Of all the things Andrew was prepared to deal with after a hard day’s work, this wasn’t one of them. “Just cancel the flights, take your money back, and calm down….” The exhausted bartender fell into one of the nearby seats. “Because nothing good is going to happen if you go chasing after her.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How long did it take Frank to reply? Frank wasn’t really sure himself, thought it really wasn’t that long. Stress, intoxication, anger, all of those things make the moments go by very slowly though. “You know what, Andrew?” When he did though, he’d let the alcohol induced myopia get the best of him one last time that night. “I think you just don’t give a damn about what goes on outside of your bubble.” From an argument to a landslide of insults; this conversation was headed to hell. “Ever since you left for Cairo, all you’ve done is mope around and play the piano. I’ve tried constantly to get you out of that mess, and every single time you’ve turned me down!” Frank spoke with fury on his lips, even if his heart told him he was helping. “And now we’re in the middle of a crisis, where people </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span> care about need help.” Frank looked up toward the ceiling as he went on with his tirade. “What about Akko? What about Diana? Do you not give a damn about them either? Is them being in danger too</span>
  <em>
    <span> inconvenient</span>
  </em>
  <span> for you?” Andrew pulled the phone from his ear and leered at it, but Frank was talking loud enough to be heard even without the speakerphone on. “I don’t care that I haven’t heard from Lotte in years! You haven’t heard from either of them in years either, and I bet you still care!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This </span>
  <em>
    <span>isn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> about caring and not caring!” Interjected Andrew.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then what is it about, Andrew!?” Frank gripped his phone tightly as he yelled down into it. “If it were me or you in danger, you know I’d help you, and I know you’d help me!” A brief silence followed; bitterness ensued. “Or maybe you wouldn’t! Maybe that’d be too dangerous for you.” Anger began to well up inside Andrew, familiar, but not in any recent sense. “Maybe you don’t have what it takes to get out of your routine and do something for someone else. Because until you actually show that you’re willing to do… to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Frank threw his arms up, defeated. “Hell, would you have said this three months ago? I swear, you’re getting worse!” Of course that last argument they had needed to rear its ugly head again. It was a short spat, nothing major, but for one reason or another, it directly preceded three months of silence. Neither knew if it was the cause, or just a factor. Neither cared to ask or consider it. “First you wouldn’t work with me to try and find a joint housing place in the states so I could help you out, then you wouldn’t let me set you up with some dosh to get settled in Cairo, and THEN you wouldn’t even consider the job I had lined up for you! You could’ve been out of there by now, getting ready to start at the firm I’m about to be working at, but no! Instead you chose to do absolutely nothing!” Until now of course. “The old Andrew I knew would have already been doing everything he could to make sure Diana and Akko were alright! He’d have made sure that the home we left behind hadn’t gone to hell in a handbasket while we were away! And he wouldn’t be calling his best friend insane for giving a damn!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By now, this whole conversation, let alone the rant, had gone long off course of its initial topic, and Andrew had heard enough. “Frank.” He said with a deadpan tone and white hot anger. “Maybe if you were half honest with yourself about why you’re even thinking about going to Porthcurno, I’d actually consider going with you.” He rose from his seat and haphazardly unfastened his tie. “But no. You have to be holier-than-thou, and act like I’m choosing not to be a hero because I just can’t be bothered.” He carelessly stuffed the loose tie in his dress-pants pocket. “Well guess what Frank: If you want to play the hero, you can do that. Run along and get yourself eaten or shot. I’m certain that’ll make this situation a lot better for everyone involved.” The detached apathy with which Andrew delivered each stabbing line only further dug Frank into a despairing hole, and betrayed Andrew’s true desires. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But before you go and dig yourself an early grave, why don’t I ask you a fourth question?” Andrew’s eyes drifted to the window, out past the glaring city lights, deep beyond the photons and shadows of the evening, down into the bedrooms of the destitute poor; Andrew’s own neighbors. “If you care so much about people’s lives being in danger, then why haven’t you risked your life solving poverty yet? Hmm? What about that earthquake that happened a year ago in Mexico? Or those firestorms in west Africa?” Of course, there was no way to answer an unfair question fairly. “No reason? Wouldn’t it be the </span>
  <em>
    <span>right thing to do </span>
  </em>
  <span>though?” Awkward quiet followed; shuffling on both ends. Neither Frank nor Andrew knew how to smoothly transition from there. No witty comebacks or follow-ups, just the disquieting ill feeling in their lungs and guts. The ball was in Andrew’s court though, so he had no choice but to finish it. No turning back now. “Get a grip Frank. The world’s problems are bigger than any of us. You aren’t going to fix them by throwing your life away, and you aren’t making yourself a better man by acting like it will.” A final pause followed, Andrew shook his head. “And take your plane-ticket money back. I’m not going and I don’t want it anyway.” Even if he could use it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frank replied curtly, ruefully, regretfully. “Keep the damn money.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Click.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Frank?” Andrew cocked his head slightly, only to realize the call had been ended. “Damnit….” His phole holding hand fell to his side and he palmed his face with the other as he leaned against one of the tablets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Karim came over with some hesitance to his step. He wasn’t sure whether he should even ask about it, but he couldn’t help but worry about Andrew. “Is everything alright, Andrew?” No use calling him “Terry,” right now; the tone was too serious. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” Replied Andrew flatly. “Nothing’s alright.” He didn’t sound too despondent though, more resigned than anything else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I do anything to help?” A large but firm hand on Andrew’s shoulder comforted him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No…. No, it’s fine, Karim.” Nothing was alright, but there was nothing to be done about it in Andrew’s eyes. “I just need to go home. I’m tired.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You really should just call out tomorrow. I’ll cover for you.” Karim motioned for the door leading out. Andrew followed suit as Karim undid his own tie. “You could use the break.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Andrew would’ve argued over this on any other day, “I could.” But he’d had enough arguing for a whole week in the past ten minutes. “Thanks for that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“La alik.” Andrew needn’t worry. “I could use the overtime.” They all could, in one way or another. Andrew forced a smile, easing karim as they exited the dining area and moved on toward the elevators. It was going to be a long, guilt ridden ride down to his bike, and an even more uncomfortable trip back home. Frank’s condemnations felt like needles in Andrew’s knees, pins in his shoulders; they stung with resentment and denial. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Meanwhile, in Maryland, where Frank had been getting his law degree, the lawyer-to-be sat on the edge of his bed. He was hardly fairing better. His head was in his lap, his back arched, and his hands dug deep into his hair. He wasn’t drunk, but the news on its own would have sent him into a panic. The myopia of alcohol made him miss the forest for the trees though; he saw the people in danger, Lotte and the others, but seemingly forgot about the danger itself. Now all he could do was stew with those scathing critiques from Andrew still bouncing around his mind as his apartment sat in stasis, still looking like a mess from all of the frantic packing he’d done. Now it was all for naught. Frank wasn’t going anywhere, but then again, neither was Andrew, in more ways than either would like.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<span>Both of them had been honest in the most brutal way possible, but even as they scolded one another, both Andrew and Frank could only hope that such drastic and heavy words would change the other’s mind for the better. In the end, it just made Andrew regret rolling out of bed today, and it made Frank sulk in a petty rage. They both eventually came to the same conclusion: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“God I’m an ass.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>There was no winning this game. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The clacking of heels was incessant. The tower belonging to the “revered” daughter of Bathory was something of a quiet mess. It wasn’t actually messy by most standards, but were one to enter, they would almost immediately be able to tell that some was wrong; something was off. You wouldn’t know how, but you’d feel it, see it. The chair at her desk would be strangely angled despite being</span>
  <em>
    <span> mostly</span>
  </em>
  <span> tucked in. Letters of correspondence, all opened, would sit in an unkempt pile on an otherwise spotless desk. The fireplace would be lit, but dying sheepishly despite the presence of unburnt wood in the chamber, and the clacking, yes that unceasing clacking would clamor until dawn rose twice over, and then maybe more. It all depended on when the true battle for Luna Nova would begin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Needless to say, Katalin was in shambles, mentally at least. Physically, she was fine, albeit the fact that she was so nervous had her worried that her heart might start beating again from how worked up she felt. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It makes no sense…. It makes no sense!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She’d been repeating that mantra for gods knew how long, over and over again as she circled her gothically opulent room. It was almost a perfect recreation of Elizabeth’s own, but it lacked the spikes, and the disturbing level of cleanliness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“She can’t really be thinking that inviting a third element like this would be beneficial!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The encounter at court had unsettled Katalin at her core. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t care how much blood we could harvest from them! It’s too risky!’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>This wasn’t the queen she knew, or it was, and Katalin had been blind all along. She couldn’t accept either option, for the reality of the situation was untenable regardless. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“The plan was in motion! Our ascension would be seamless! All we’d needs do from there is bide our time for but a month or two more…. Just two or so more fortnights and we would be poised to infiltrate and topple the nations of today!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her agents were reporting back well. They had already begun to turn more officials and influential figureheads in the public with promises of power and immortality in the coming age of night. It would be a slowish process at first, but luckily for the Bathory’s, it wasn’t a matter of corruption; the world as it was had enough of that going around in its highest spheres of power to make such bargains simple. No, the difficulty would be not getting caught, a difficulty that they may never even have to grapple with, for this battle ahead of them would be both critical and final. Katalin knew this above all else: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“All of this preparation and maneuvering…. Decades of careful plotting! Masterful acquisitions! Sly puppeteering! And for what!? For her to throw it all away on a petty gambit!?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin would have gone on, but she nearly tripped on her rug. She stumbled forward, cursing flippantly in Hungarian as she regained her balance. She turned about, her face vexed by pompous rage, spotted the snag, and promptly snuffed it out with three stomps. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“After all I did to rehydrate her mummified corpse, and she has the gall to say that I never lived up to her expectations!?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>To have her efforts nullified was one thing. To have them ignored? That could not be abided. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Wrong, wrong! It’s all going wrong!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Katalin threw herself toward her tower’s window, swooning sincerely, albeit dramatically; she couldn’t help it. “It was all so perfect! Even with the delays, our victory was inevitable! Now!? Now we must pray that we even survive this ordeal!” A cohort of fifty witches was nothing to the Bathorys, and that was what Katalin had been initially told of. It angered her, but she could make sense of it. Now, two days after the blundering war council, her scouts were telling her that not only had they underestimated the count, but that the numbers were swelling into the lower hundreds, nearing three hundred in total, not counting the armed masses of non-witches. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Did she learn nothing from our last failure!? Does Nikolai not remember the three armies at our gates!?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The Antiquarians, Faesworn, and a peasant uprising. The Balefire assassins were just the cherry on top, but even before they had struck the coup de grace, Katalin was restless. She felt that same restlessness come over her now in a terrible wave of deja vu. It may have just been the “peasants” and a few hundred witches now, but the Bathorys no longer had a standing army. They had a few hundred combatants, knights and lords combined, and a small contingent of necromancers and their servile undead, but their usefulness was not in combat, but in logistics. Any fool with a club could brain a zombie, and no witch worth their salt would have trouble or fear when facing one. This may not have accounted for the monsters and Fae under The Fate’s control, and while they were effective, they were almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> effective. Katalin remembered speaking with lords, ladies, and knights who had returned from the field with prisoners before the stoppage of time, and they reported nothing but carnage down below. Where the ranks of the Bathorys fought with fervor and discipline, the enslaved creatures fought like rabid dogs, and nearly everything was a foe to them if even mildly provoked. They worked well in capturing witches for the most part, but every knight lost was a terrible blow to the Bathory’s strength, and with reinforcements en route, this battle could turn south very quickly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Is this what they want…?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Despaired Katalin. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Do they want to fail again!?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Nothing else made sense to her. Unlike her mother and brother, she missed the vast crimson ocean for its sanguine waves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin sighed deeply and ran her claws through her unkempt hair. She winced as her nails got caught in a snag and pulled one hair loose. She brought the now loose strand to her eyes and examined it ruefully. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Damnit, Katalin! Pull yourself together! You’re losing it!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She then tightened her claw into a fist and pressed her knuckles to her forehead. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“There has to be a way to salvage this!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>As if on cue, a series of knocks sounded at her door. Katalin’s eyes widened, and her posture straightened. “Who goes there!?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My lady,” Began one of her attendants, a waifish sounding vampire fledgling. “As you requested, I’ve returned with word from the commanders.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin rose to her feet, nearly tripped on her dress, and fixed up her hair as best as possible before instinctively reaching for her emerald fan. “Enter!” The maiden vampire entered quickly, closed the door behind her, and curtsied hastily, but properly. She found Katalin to be hiding her face behind the jade colored paper of her fan, allowing only her eyes to peek out over them. “Now say your piece. What are the thoughts of the knight-generals?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The maiden spoke hopefully, and did her best to hide a pleased smile. “My lady, Lords Sarkozi, Alinejad, and Szablosci are all in agreement. They intend to follow your lead over Nikolai’s in the coming battle.”  It was the first good news she had to report in a good while.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin withheld any preemptive relief. “And of Lords, Jia Lu, and Konstantin?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The maiden nodded, unphased. “They too agreed to abandon Nikolai’s suicidal plan.” Though she wasn’t as pleased to report this. “Though they are unsure if you are the best fit to lead them…. Lord Konstantin especially believes he would serve as a better tactician.” A slight pause preceded the Maiden bowing her head. “With all due respect of course, the three of them agree to follow through so long as Konstantin is given direct command of our forces in Nikolai’s stead.” He hadn’t been formally ousted, Nikolai that is. Quite the opposite. Elizabeth seemingly approved of his feral demeanor, though it left him as a pariah among the rest of the castle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin breathed sharply through her nose, though she never exhaled; the quirks of not really needing to breathe. “I would not protest to receiving his council….” She began to pace once again, but in a more controlled fashion now that eyes were upon her. “But he must understand that my honour and position are at stake here.” She fanned herself obsessively. “I know that he is a man of true honor; he cares only for victory…. If he will agree to allow me to weigh in on the planning, and to take the lion’s share of the credit, then I have no qualms with him.” She would prove herself the favored daughter; she would not be overshadowed by her petulantly mad brother. “Though he will find himself surprised to know that I already </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> a plan in the works.” Katalin deigned to lower her fan with a flick of her wrist, though she was quick to turn her back to the maiden as she rifled through her documents. From the muddled mess of a desk, she produced a simple scroll, detailing the battle tactics she’d cooked up. “For all the trouble my brother has been over the years,” Said Katalin as she turned about to hand off the orders, now raising her fan again to hide her tired and “imperfect” features. “His childish roleplay of a ‘great military mind’ has left me with a great deal of literature to read on </span>
  <em>
    <span>actual</span>
  </em>
  <span> tactics.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The maiden bowed her head, both in acknowledgement of her lady’s orders, and for her lady’s desire to remain unseen. It gave Katalin a moment to let her fan drop and rest her hand. “As you say, Lady Katalin. I will see this missive to him with haste.” The maiden held out her hands as if receiving a gift from on high. The scroll dropped daintily into her hands, and only then did she lower her arms and look up. “Will that be all, my lady?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Katalin glanced longingly toward the window. Her eyes were upon the central tower where Elizabeth reisided, and just beyond that, on Nikolai’s own tower. “Continue your efforts to reestablish contact with the Fate witches.” Katalin’s frown deepened. She could only imagine what Elizabeth said to them that made them so outraged as to refuse and ignore every attempt at contacting them. “Their cooperation will be necessary for victory.” She could only hope that The Fates agreed, and saw Elizabeth as the problem, and not the whole of the Bathory hierarchy. Sadly, it seemed they didn’t know, or didn’t care.  “Speaking of the Fates, ensure that the weapon they gifted unto us is well fed. We may need to fire it again, if only to force a stalemate.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The maiden shuddered. She knew all too well how wretched the hell-machine was, and how difficult it was to keep it sleeping throughout this arduous reprieve. “M-My lady, I mean no disrespect, but…. Would her grace allow us t-to simply fire it without her approval?” The implication was clear: No, Bathroy wouldn’t allow it. It would kill too many in such a way as to leave nothing for sacrifice or feasting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Katalin squinted at that. “No. She wouldn’t. Therefore, you will see to it that no mention of such plans reach her ears.” A bit of that icy biting ness returned, earning a deep bow in apology from the maiden. “Good.” Katalin nodded and sighed. “Beyond that, no. That will be all.” Her carefully curated tone fell away in favor of mournful resignation. Confident as she was, the writing seemed to be on the wall for her family’s final end. “You are dismissed.” She gave a simple wave to send off her servant, who obliged with another curtsy, and hurriedly walked off and out of the room, leaving Katalin to ruminate. “It still makes no sense.” She pondered aloud. “There is no reality in which their maneuvers make sense….” She flexed her claws tensely, giving all of her mental power into sussing out what method could be behind this madness. “Do they really expect the world to just kneel before us without opposition? Do they think that we’ve already won?” Those explanations </span><em><span>seemed</span></em><span> to work, but not entirely. Katalin knew she was missing something. “But what…?”</span> <span>She tapped at her chin. “What could ever warrant us gambling away our one and only chance to claim what is rightfully ours?” </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A minute or so passed, only for Katalin to realize that her vision was blurring. “Ah….” She wiped eyes and shook herself back to focus. “I suppose I have been forgetting to drink.” Katalin lazily shuffled over to her “wine” cabinet and pulled out a bottle dated for 1592, “virgin” brand, just like her mother liked. A simple poke and twist of one of her sharper claws saw the bottle uncorked. She brought it up to her lips and drank from it carefully. Even as the crimson fluids breathed new un-life into her body, Katalin still didn’t get it, and she never would.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1c_Bc1VS7mMfBUttB-bR8hky6kpcISBZn7uYoPX4G3Pk/edit?usp=sharing">
    <strong>LIVES ARE LOST, TEARS ARE SHED, TIME MARCHES ON;</strong>
  </a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1c_Bc1VS7mMfBUttB-bR8hky6kpcISBZn7uYoPX4G3Pk/edit?usp=sharing">
    <strong>THINK IT CRUEL? </strong>
    <strong>THINK IT DESERVED?</strong>
  </a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1c_Bc1VS7mMfBUttB-bR8hky6kpcISBZn7uYoPX4G3Pk/edit?usp=sharing">
    <strong>IT MATTERS NOT;</strong>
  </a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1c_Bc1VS7mMfBUttB-bR8hky6kpcISBZn7uYoPX4G3Pk/edit?usp=sharing">
    <strong> WORSE THINGS ARE YET TO COME</strong>
  </a>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The false storm, despite its name, was far stronger than most like it. The wind whistled, hissed, and howled about the spires of Castle Bathory with a fury, buffeting the new yet olde looking stones; grinding them away on a timescale foreign to all mortal life. One day, only dust would remain, and the castle would come crumbling down in an unrecognizable heap. Nikolai though, enraptured by bloodlust, narcissistic delusions, and fits of manic rage, didn’t accept this inevitability. He accepted nothing, in fact, except the supposed inevitability of their victory; of </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>victory. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His windows were thrown wide, shattered in some areas. The curtains were blown back, whipping too and fro about the room as the gales disturb the chamber of the favored son of Bathory. Their job was done for them though, for Nikolai himself had been the architect of the room’s destruction. It was well and truly in shambles. The desk by the window was overturned. The fire was roaring. The bed was a clawed mess; feathers and cloth scraps everywhere, and broken bottles from Nikolai’s personal blood reserved littered the floor by the cabinet. Nikolai himself looked no better. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was clad in his armor. It now reeked of death, and not just the normal deathly smell all vampires kept, no, this was a rancid sort of rot. The clinically clean, carefully curated scent of noble vampires, like that of a body right after professional handling by a mortician, was instead overpowered by the iron stench of blood, and the acrid sting of a decaying corpse. He hadn’t removed his armor since he returned, hadn’t bathed since he left, and hadn’t “slept” since the night before his third failure. He was huddled on the ground, his cape flowing down over his back, concealing his form. He looked sallow in the face, more so than most vampire lords, but retained a viscous sharpness that spoke to his mad-dog tendencies. His remaining hand was clammy, and his stub, having been mercifully wrapped up, trembled similarly. With them, he held in his lap the painting that once adorned the mantle above his fireplace; the glorious defence of </span>
  <span>Čachtice. The defence that only existed in his mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Spears held aloft by angels and men in service to the crimson crown. The ramparts lined with vampire knights eager for battle, swords raised high. The grace of God on their side, and the barbaric hordes charging down their gates, coaxed along by the heathens and devil worshiping sorcerers. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Heaven can wait!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Said the angels’ banner. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No…” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The words burned Nikolai’s irises. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“No! Heaven can’t wait!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>His clutch tightened., his eyes bulged and widened. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Heaven has evaded us for far too long!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Nikolai was in freefall </span>
  <em>
    <span>“The kingdom of God was meant to be ours! Ours by right! Thus is our divine providence!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>And there were no chains for him to grab on his way down. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Never again though! Never again shall we be denied our rule!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>There was no stopping his descent now. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Never again will I fail! It is impossible! Unthinkable!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Arcane lightning raged outside. Thunder soon followed. “THUS DO I DECREE!” Bellowed Nikolai in a guttural, spittle filled shout. No one was around to hear him though. Even his most devout of knights had forsaken him ever since they arrived. None came to him to inquire on the nature of the coming defense, and none came to ensure his continued existence, but none of that mattered. Nikolai would see this battle won on his own. He was the patriarch! The favored son! An </span>
  <span>Übermensch!</span>
  <span> His foes were weak, crafty yes, lucky even, but weak! They couldn’t hold a candle to him when push came to shove; this he knew well. “Their blades… their heretical wands…. ALL BLUNTED!” Nikolai struck the ground beside him as his bulging gaze remained wholly transfixed on the painting before him. The stone cracked under the weight of his punch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I swear it, before God and his Son, there will be blood!” His fangs were barred at all times, hanging out over his lower lips. Hunger dominated his mind in all ways. Hunger for all. “There will be blood to pay to our lord! Just as he gave of himself to his apostles, I shall pay him in kind with the blood of our enemies!” His ruined hand meant nothing. It meant nothing now, and it would mean nothing later. “Surely, this new threat. These </span>
  <em>
    <span>heathens</span>
  </em>
  <span> from the mainland…. They must have been sent by you, lord!”He spoke to the floor, to himself, even as he called to the God of Abraham. “Yes! Yes it must be!  A test! A test and a sacrifice! This whole island, my lord! It will be a sacrifice I make unto you! A test I pass in the name of my honored bloodline!” His working hand scrambled for a ceremonial dagger, nothing more than a fancy letter-opener, and began to repeatedly, rhythmically stab into the shapes of the “barbarous hordes” in his prized painting. “Every—last—one of them!” Stabs punctuated every part of his statements. The canvas began to fall apart, along with the frame. “THEY WILL ALL PAY!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The painting clattered and crumbled into pieces. Nikolai’s final strike against it shattered the frame apart and left him with a seldom few scraps of the original piece. The angel’s banner remained intact, and at the foot of his huddled kneel. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Heaven can wait!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Nikolai dashed the scrap aside with his stubby appendage. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Heaven will weep!” He corrected. “It will weep when the angels see the glory of our victory!” He had known it before, but now he began to see it in his minds eye: The Courtyard. The final confrontation. War raged around the three of them; Nikolai, The Hunter, and The Von Braunschbank, locked in a pitched battle as chaos unfolds, just as it was meant to at the end of time. “They were wrong….” Nikolai growled. “The final battle will not take place in Jerusalem.” The passages of revelations flooded his mind, melding into the insane imagery he had conjured up. “It will take place here! Here and here alone! Here, where WE! The chosen of God! Claim our birthrights!” He threw his head back and held his hand and stub up, as if beseeching the heavens that lay beyond his room’s ceiling. “Monstrosities of all kinds doing battle with warriors of the faith! The sinners punished by the righteous culling! It is all here, my lord! All before us in the battle to come!” It was all coming together, in a deranged sort of way. “And I will be your horseman in red! Your avatar of war!” Nikolai reached for his sword. “I SWEAR IT!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>KA-KRACK-THOOOM!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lightning struck his balcony. Pebbles and bits of stones clattered the inside of his room. Nikolai turned about in a fevered daze, his eyes still unblinking, his form still hunched and trembling with animalistic rage. His eyes lingered on the smoking spot before he lept up from the floor and rushed over. He cast his eyes over the balcony and looked up, down, and all around in search of a sign that, by all sensible reason, didn’t exist. Lo and behold though, when he looked down at the academy in its frozen state, he saw the clouds had parted to reveal the central courtyard, marked by a central fountain. It was as they had left it, except now, lightning from the false storm had struck through and become frozen in the chronological quagmire, with the bolt itself being drawn to the skyward arm of the beatific statue that adorned the fountain. A sign from the heavens! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes….” He panted and growled, his claws digging into the stone railing. “Just as I saw on the night before my return….” The courtyard, a duel, a reunion of blades long overdue. “I remember your vision, heavenly Father!” Nikolai called out to the storm, earning a clap of thunder in response. “Pray, show me! Show your most faithful warrior what he must do to see your vision realized!” He cast his arms out wide and welcomed divine intervention. It came in the form of blinding bolts, flashes that struck before his very eyes, near blinding him with the chaotic beauty that meant nothing, but also meant everything. Betwixt the sparks and strobes of lightning in his eyes, Nikolai saw his hazy, dream like vision become manifest in a brilliant instant:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A trap. He would lay a trap for them. They would come, no doubt leading the charge, and would be drawn to the cries of the “innocent.” The bait would be simple to find, and easier to put into place. The difficult part would be ensuring there was no possible way that either of them could escape. Luckily for Nikolai, by way of heavenly providence, the method was revealed to him; a method he would have never considered had he not been “shown” the way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He blinked sporadically and stumbled back in a daze. He gasped and panted as if having truly seen the face of God. “Truly, my Lord!?” Of course, no answer came. “It would not be a sin in your eyes!?” Thunder rumbled distantly. The wind blew back his already unkempt hair. Nikolai looked down to his stump of a hand, puzzling out what such a thing would look like were he to go through with the “augmentation” that “God” showed to him. “Is it even possible!?” Lightning struck the balcony again, barely Missing Nikolai, cowing him into a kneeling position. “Pray forgive my questioning!” Reverent fear overtook him. God had to be talking to him! He just had to be! “By your will, anything is possible! I will make it so!” The storm seemed to calm, and so Nikolai smiled. “I thank you Lord!” He began to rise. “Not only for showing me the way forward!” And looked out wild eyedly to the obscured shores of the English mainland, where the lights or Porthcurno were yet lit. “But for permitting me this glorious irony!” He held his stumped hand to the heavens and shook it, as if he had made a fist with it. “The very heresy they partake in shall be that which seals their doom!” He stood proud and long in the wind, relishing in the moment of his preliminary triumph. Once he’d had his fill of pride, he spun about and rushed back inside, barreling over his ruined room and past his door. He would require the aid of all the Apothecarians at the Bathory’s disposal, and no less than a few of the more esoterically minded necromancers to complete his “augmentation.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Meanwhile, the storm would rage on, both inside Nikolai’s mind and heart, and around all of Castle Bathory. Lightning would continue to strike Nikolai’s tower with uncanny frequency.  The once golden embroideries and gilded plates of metal that adorned his balcony and railings were now charred black, and slightly slagged. A pity; they looked quite nice.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p>
  <span>“Could this castle be </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> creepier?” The dankness of the place had been woefully understated in the confines of the cell blocks. “Seriously, I can’t see a thing, and I’m pretty sure something just touched my leg!” The new crew was all for explorative journalism, but this was ridiculous, and horribly dangerous. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Click-Snap!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A flash from Ansel lit up the hallway before the trio for a split moment. It was cobwebbed, empty, unlit, and just as labyrinthian as the rest. At least Kimberly had imagined the thing on her leg; no rats or spiders in sight. “Not what I had in mind!” The notetaker and interrogator among them hissed and rubbed her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s doing his best!” Whispered Joanna in the most motherly voice possible. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, at blinding me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Quiet!” Wangari shushed them both, haphazardly clamping her friends’ mouths shut. “We’re supposed to be ready for an ambush, remember?” The trio had their bricks at the ready. It was the best they could do in terms of weapons, and given the necromancers had mostly been frail old windbags, it shouldn’t take more than one blow to put them to sleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kimberly pushed the silencing hand aside, invisibly rolling her own eyes in the dark. “Yeah, and we’ve been waiting in ambush for an hour; nothing’s happened.” At least it felt like that. “So maybe that’s our cue to move on and find a better spot.” No one could see it, but Kimberly was thumbing back over her shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But we don’t even know what part of the castle we’re in,” Joanna felt around for the walls and floor until she felt comfortable enough to rise to her feet. “And we still don’t have a place to sleep.” They’d been snooping around ever since they escaped the dungeons, and all they’d found was the occasional vampire skulking about, and a few critters in the dark. “We can’t risk getting caught because we were too tired. We need to find somewhere safe to hide for the night—Er—Morning?” Time had well and truly gone out the window. There was only darkness, and darkerness in here. “A-Anyways!” Joanna shook her head and brought Ansel close. “We’re tired, and hungry, and thirsty, and we won’t make it long if we don’t hurry!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know.” Wangari stayed low in a crouch as she spoke, but turned her head roughly in Joanna’s direction. “Let’s just… wait for </span>
  <em>
    <span>one more minute</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Wangari had a “feeling’ about this. It was plain on her face. Things were gonna go their way any second now. “One more minute and we can go: You can time me on that Kim.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kim was going to protest it, but groaned in agreement as she got back down in her “ready” stance. “Fine, but nothing’s gonna happen….” It was a lazy sort of crouching posture, her hands gripped the rock close to her chest. It was the world’s worst impression of an American football player’s stance right before they hike the ball, not that she was trying much. She was convinced that Wangari’s sixty second extension would fly by faster than Kimberly  could say </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I told you</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shuffling in the distance. Two pairs of feet. Three? No, two and one with a cane, and they were drawing closer. They weren’t metal boots, or the clacking of refined shoes, so definitely note vampires. It had to be necromancers, or maybe some of the less magically inclined servitors, like zombified deckhands, or even mere attendants and slaves to the nobility. Regardless of who or what they were, they’d have useful things on them. Tools, keys, food, water, those would keep the LNN alive. The jackpot though was wands. With wands, they wouldn’t be restricted to little cantrips and pithy spells. They could potentially solve all of their problems and more with just one wand, and a bit of ingenuity in the spellcasting department. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This coin had two sides though: Regardless of who was approaching down the desolately dark halls, it would only take one blundering move on the part of the LNN to cut their escape attempt, and their own lives, short. One loud scream, one escaped witness, and the alarm would no doubt be raised.The young journalists seized up in terror and anticipation. The shuffling steps drew nearer. This was it: Wangari’s ambush would either pay off here, or this is where their escape attempt failed spectacularly. Bricks were readied on the part of Wangari and Kimberly, while Joanna got Ansel at the ready. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“—Have no right to keep us out of the loop.” Said the lead necromancer: A croneish old man with a jaggedly long beard; hairs as stiff as frozen straw, white and grey like muddled cement, wrapping his face from ear to ear. He carried a tome of sorts by his sides, and walked surprisingly upright for a man who’s figure seemed about as thin as some of his own raised skeletons. “Madness it is! Madness at court! Always madness with these aristocratic types!” He waved his free arm about flippantly as he shuffled along. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His compatriot, a necromancer as well, was a younger-ish woman, maybe somewhere in her fifties, with a shaved head, and a plumper, more stout physique. Though, with all the boils and blights upon her face, one might mistake her for a ghoul. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Snrrrrk,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She had to suck up a globule of what everyone hoped was snot back into her malformed nose before she could speak. “T’is the price we pay for opportunities.” She carried a staff that held up an oil lantern, providing dim, but useful light. “I haven’t heard of any other…. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Snrrrrk….</span>
  </em>
  <span> Employers looking for services like ours.” None that made it worth their while, at least, or who would be able to tolerate their… well, everything. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bah!” The croneish man spat to the side in retort. “I wish we stayed in italy! I don’t have the patience for this!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Snrrk.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You don’t have the patience for anything.” Snidely remarked the snotty hag. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were approaching; just down the hall now, maybe ten seconds out. Wangari got as low as she could, ready to break out into a sprint. She took a deep breath and waited for the absolute last second to strike. Kim shuffled a bit to her left after she patted Wangari on the shoulder. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ve got the thin one on the left.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Was what she was trying to signal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And for good reason! We’ve got all the time in the world!” Ranted the crone petulantly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wangari nodded, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Got it.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>And set her eyes on the snotty one on the right. She reached back haphazardly to brush a hand against Joanna’s forearm, signaling her to move forward; she needed to take the lead on this. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Jo, you’re up.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The snot hag rolled her one working eye. “Shouldn’t that be the reason…. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Snrrk….</span>
  </em>
  <span> That we take things slower…?” The other was glass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Joanna gulped and crept forward in the darkness as quietly she could. Her heart was practically beating out of her chest, worried that she might kick a pebble and alert the necromancers. Time was of the essence though. The slaves to Bathory were drawing nearer, and both Wangari and Kimberly were counting on Joanna and Ansel to start this ambush off right. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No!” The old man crossed his arms and turned his nose up at the notion. “It means we deserve to be showered in convenience! How else are we to further develop our brilliance!?” They weren’t truly immortal, mind you. Just stupidly long lived. Fittingly, the plan to get their wands was stupidly simple. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Joanna glanced down to her chest. She couldn’t see Ansel, but she knew it was looking up at her; they were in this together. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Ok….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She got the camera at the ready, and put a finger on the button. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Here goes!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Step one: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Set ‘em up.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh here we go again.” The hag chortled. “You stroke your ego like drunk strokes his—” A figure was coming at them fast. Purple hair, glasses, a ruined school uniform and… a camera?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Click-Snap! Click-Snap! Click-Snap!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“GYAAH!” The necromancers were blinded. Ansel had pulled out all the stops on its power reserves: It was practically a living flashbang. “WHO GOES—!? The croneish man dropped his book and bent over in a tizzy. He desperately covered his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hag on the other hand fell onto her back after tripping over an uneven bit of cobble behind her. “WRETCHED—!” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thud! </span>
  </em>
  <span> “ACH! WHAT’S—!?” Her sickly and bloated form was much like a beached turtle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Joanna was trembling. “NOW!” Despite having done her part perfectly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Step two: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Knock ‘em down!” </span>
  </em>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wangari and Kimberly weren’t much for battle cries or shouts. They ran up silently, or at least, without any noise coming from their mouths. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Crack! Krrrk! Thud!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They let the bricks do the talking for them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two necromancers fell still on the floor, their consciousness, and possibly their lives, having been snuffed out. The snotty one had taken Wangari’s brick to the face where it now resided; her skull was crushed in at the nose and upper jaw. The thin one though took more than one hit. Kim only winged his right cheek with a sideways swipe with her stone which stumbled the man backward, only for her to follow up with a lethal bludgeoning to the temple. It was over in mere moments. All parties still standing huffed and puffed as if they’d just finished a marathon, their chests heaving upon and down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before anyone said a word, Wangari scrambled for the fallen lamp and got looking for a wand. Mercifully, it wasn’t hard to find. A quick snatching motion from the snot hag’s rope belt yielded a wicked looking branch, jagged and twisted, engraved in symbols that were by and large unfamiliar to the LNN. They’d never been prepared to handle things wrought by “dark” magicks, let alone the magicks themselves. Thankfully, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Luminaria!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Spell worked on just about any wand. The blackened halls became alight in cool blue hues from an orb of white light which emanated from the twisted wand’s tip. A moment after they adjusted to the light though, they were all regretting the whole “brightening up the hallways” idea. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh god….” Kimberly’s reaction spoke of fear, but really she was just grossed out. The fallen necromancers were </span>
  <em>
    <span>hideous</span>
  </em>
  <span>; absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>repulsive</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “I… I think I’m gonna be sick.” She stumbled back and dropped the bloodied brick. She beat her chest with the side of her fist twice as she cleared her throat in an obvious attempt not to gag. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Joanna covered Ansel’s eye and averted her own. “Grab his wand and keys already and let's go!” She wanted to be as far away from these bodies as possible; alive or dead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wangari gulped down an unhealthy dose of sick from her empty gullet and took a deep breath as she scrambled over to the croneish man’s body. She sifted through his robes and found what they were looking for, key ring and a wand much like the other. Wangari was about to turn tail and run with her friends, she realized something painfully obvious. Something she hoped she’d be able to shut out of her mind.  “Oh no….” The sickening feeling in her throat only intensified as she turned to face Kimberly and Joanna. “We have to hide the bodies.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, freaking duh!” Kimberly threw her arms up onto her head, her expression bordering on disbelief and despair. “Did you like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> realize that when you came up with this plan!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhhh….” Wangari nearly dropped the keys and wands. She shook her head abruptly as if to come to her senses. “L-Look, I thought maybe…. This place… would be out of the way enough to just…. Leave them?” Wangari skittered away from the bodies. She could barely look at them let alone be near them. The fact that she may have just killed someone wasn’t doing well for her already frayed nerves. “They’re fine where they are!” She lied. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh….” Kimberly’s hands slid down her face. “Oh my god. Gari. We just…. Gari—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I’m with Wangari!” Squeaked Joanna. “I’m not touching them!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>castle on a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> blimp filled with </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>vampires out to </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>kill us! And you guys are too squeamish to hide the evidence that we just broke out of </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> vampire jail!?” Joanna and Wangari both avoided eye contact with Kimberly. Kim’s right eyebrow twitched. She was beyond indignant. “So Gari,” She said with a scary sort of calmness. “You’re fine coming up with a plan that involves us </span>
  <em>
    <span>bludgeoning two stooges with a brick</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but can’t deal with the fact that WE JUST BLUDGEON TWO STOOGES WITH A BRICK!?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tch tch! ShhShshsh!” Wangari hissed and waved her hands at Kim. “You can be mad at me all you want but </span>
  <em>
    <span>please </span>
  </em>
  <span>don’t yell!” She was whispering now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kim lowered her volume and took a long breath, starting from the gut, and out through her nose. “Ok….” She held her hands up defensively and nodded. “I get it. I’m not gonna pretend I’m some badass and say that I’m not a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little</span>
  </em>
  <span> freaked out by this,” She opened her eyes and stepped closer, speaking intensely, but earnestly. “But we aren’t getting out of here if we play softball with these weirdos.” The fact of the matter was made clear enough, and undeniable at that. “So let’s all...” Kimberly motioned toward her chest. “Take a deep breath, hold our noses, and figure out which closet we can stuff these two into.” She glanced over her shoulders as her friends did as instructed. “Or… how we’re even going to move them.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll uh… I’ll go find a closet!” Before Joanna’s snappy excuse could be countered, she was running off down the hall in the darkness, having all but forgotten how blind she’d be. Wangari and Kimberly called after her, but both froze up almost immediately in abject horror when Kimberly held her luminous wand out toward the darkness. Joanna was face to abdomen with a creature, a humanoid entity, dressed in corpse-white dress, face obscured by a veil, with a form like a slender mannequin; a caricature of the human form. Joanna had quite literally bumped into a handmaiden of Bathory; those silent attendants with claws like—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shing!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Swords. Swords for fingers. How the maiden kept her daggered fingernails hidden at all was a complete mystery, but all it took was a swift flick of the wrist to draw them out. Joanna looked down to her chest, expecting death, but quickly found the maiden pushing a claw just below Joanna’s chin. The silent killer slowly raised the witch’s gaze to meet its own before putting another of its claws against where its lips would be. Its warning went unheeded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Click-Snap!</span>
  </em>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!” Joanna’s scream pierced the timeless darkness of the castle depths as her tightening grip snapped a photo of the maiden. At the same time, Kimberly and Wangari’s neurons fired off desperate orders to save their friend. Their muscles sprang into action to send them into a sprint as the maiden raised its horrid claws up in preparation to turn the Polish witch to mincemeat. It would never get the chance to though, not before its arms were caught in an earthen bind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kimberly and Wangari both skid to a halt. Joanna had closed her eyes so tightly she thought they’d never be able to open again, but upon hearing the sounds of struggle and sediment cracking, she couldn’t help but take a peek. The maiden’s arms were raised, half caught in a lurching motion that would surely spell Joanna’s end. Parts of the wall and floor however had been molded and manipulated such that they jutted out in sudden stalactites that formed shackles around the maiden’s wrists and ankles. It thrashed and struggled with all of its inhuman might, but to no avail. Joanna glanced back, ready to just about fall to her knees in thanks given to her friends, but neither Wangari nor Kimberly had cast that spell; they looked just as confused. “W-What…?” The words fell off Joanna’s lips like rolling marbles; her brain was sputtering out fumes. “What the hell…?” She turned around again and looked the maiden in its eyes. It was enraged beyond knowing, and yet it was emotionless, like a doll made of fleshy porcelain. Joanna was almost cross to admit that she wanted to take a </span>
  <em>
    <span>proper</span>
  </em>
  <span> picture of it, given how fascinatingly horrifying the being was, but chose reason over habit. “We need to run.” No time to question anything; just go. “Now!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wangari and Kimberly didn’t need to be told twice. They turned tail with Joanna in tow and sprinted down past the fallen necromancers. Fuck the plan to hide the bodies, fuck sneaking around; their brains were on auto pilot now, and that system was telling them to get as far as inhumanly possible from wherever they just were. Their escape attempt was again interrupted though, this time by a blindingly fast blur of red that shot over their heads, further into the darkness. Wangari tripped over herself while Kmberly was spared a fall by Joanna’s quick thinking; she’d grabbed Kim by the arm before she hit the ground, leaving Ansel to flutter about in a panicked circle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wangari’s chin was alight with the most acute pain. She was worried she’d damn near cracked the tip of it on the cobbled hallways; she’d fallen face first, head up. She rolled about, clutching at her bruised and scraped chin, wholly incapable of making any noise as she bit down tight enough to sever a finger. Kimberly meanwhile got her footing back, “Now what!?” And ducked down to pick up one of the wands. She leveled it at the encroaching darkness as the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Luminaria </span>
  </em>
  <span>spell faded in power. Kimberly tried shaking the wand as if it were a flashlight, before getting a grip of herself and repeating the spell. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Luminaria!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Brightness was quickly returned, and with it came the sight of a red robed figure standing just a few meters away; stoically, their face obscured by a thick shadow that almost seemed unnatural. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wangari couldn’t be bothered to notice anything besides how much pain she was in, and Kimberly was too tense to think to even say anything; her hands death gripped the wand, ready to send any number of random spells toward the strange witch before them. That left Joanna to open up a dialogue before things got even messier. “Who are you!?” She was kind of hiding behind Kimberly; not too blatantly, but Ansel certainly was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We are here to aid you three,” The Witch in Red gestured abruptly, almost lazily. “So long as you lower that wand of yours.” She sounded impatient, but above all, pass</span>
  <span>é</span>
  <span>; as if this was all one big chore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kimberly kept the wand steady in spite of their rescuers request. “We asked you a question!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Witch in Red scoffed. “And </span>
  <em>
    <span>We</span>
  </em>
  <span> saved your mi—!” Cause barely held back her burning desire to insult the LNN witches. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>We</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Cause reiterated, gesturing to herself. “Are the only reason you’re alive.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We?” Jabbed Kimberly. “Who’s we?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause blinked blankly. “We are We.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the hell does that mean?” Journalistic interrogation was well underway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What!?” Cause looked around, as if she were somehow caught in a nonsensical dream now. “What do you mean what do We—” Until it struck her. “Oh.” She’d sincerely forgotten how strange it is to call yourself “we” when you’re just one person in a room. It was almost facepalm worthy, “We refers to Ourself as such for personal reasons! It is of no consequence to your survival!” If Cause weren’t so fed up with this already. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm, sure.” Kim wouldn’t let it lie though. “And how did you get in here?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We are a skilled and powerful sorcerer! Do you need a better reason!?” Cause stepped forward,  grinding her teeth just a little as she jabbed a finger forward. “Or can we stop wasting time and get you somewhere safe! There is work to be done!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe if things weren’t so wild already, I’d say no,” Kim pursed her lips. “But I’m in a bad mood today. So why don’t you explain why someone who’s clearly pissed off about having to rescue us is even doing it in the first place?” Cause’s eyebrow twitched. “And what’s this ‘work’ that—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kim!” Joanna shook her friend, snapping her out of her interrogating mindset. “Can we maybe do this later! Like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>after</span>
  </em>
  <span> we get saved by this… person?” She wanted to say “weirdo,” but they were already alienated enough. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes! Listen to that one! She speaks sensibly!” Chimed Cause, feeling somewhat desperate to get this show on the proverbial road. “Look here even: As a sign of good faith, We’ll heal the wounds of your writhing companion!” A careful bit of hand motioning combined with the hushed utterances of arcane words saw green and red sparks begin to fly from Causes’ fingertips. Kimberly and Joanna both backed up and looked frantically to Wangari. Before either could protest, Cause had completed the spell A seemingly sentient swarm of the green and red sparks coalesced to form a small cloud  that darted across the hall, engulfing Wangari’s face. The Kenyan witch was quick to start swatting at them while making various pained noises. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kimberly almost fired off a spell right then and there, but Joanna lowered her friend’s rigid arm just in time. “W-Wait! Look!” Sure enough, Wangari’s fitful writhing slowly subsided, and she began to breathe steadily. She was still holding her jaw like it was on fire, but the fracture that ran up from tip to tooth had been sealed in the haze of the magical sparks she’d inhaled. “It’s working!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmmm, see!?” Cause threw her hands up and out. “This is what happens when you let people help you!” The fact she even had to think those words in the presence of witches in supposed service to the Eight Traitors made her want to cut her own tongue out. However, The Pact, no, the world demanded her cooperation. Their plan needed to go off seamlessly, and these three witches were exactly what Cause was looking for. “Now cease your quibbling and come with Us!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You hold on!” Kimberly was no less forceful than she was moments ago. Healing Wangari or not, she didn’t trust this witch in red. “Gari, are you ok?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wangari hesitated to speak. First she shakily got herself off of the ground and let the aftershocks of her painful healing fizzle out on her nerve endings. She shivered, shook her head, and sharply exhaled before she even considered her words. “I…. I think so.” Cautious hands were kept by her chin. She rubbed it carefully, as if it could shatter again at any moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Only then did Kimberly let her guard down. “Ok…. Ok.” Her wand wielding hand fell to her side at rest. She stowed the piece in her near ruined belt-sash while handing off the other back to Wangari, who did the same. “I guess we owe you for that.” She conceded to Cause all while eyeing her up suspiciously. She could have sworn this stranger was familiar; or at least, she thought she </span>
  <em>
    <span>heard </span>
  </em>
  <span>something about a witch like this. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“But from where…?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was hard to think that line through right now. Too much had happened, and too much was happening right then and there for Kimberly to keep her thoughts in a neat and orderly manner. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>“Yeah….” Wangari looked to Cause, intending to thank her formally, but she felt… wrong, all of sudden. Sure, she felt wrong in about ten other ways already. She was starving, thirsty, tired, terrified, disoriented; the list goes on. Dread was high on her list of current emotions too, but now, as Wangari looked at Cause, she felt a </span><em><span>very</span></em> <em><span>different</span></em><span> kind of dread. Wangari felt desolate when she looked to where Causes’ eyes should be. She felt emptiness when she tried to urge her body closer. She felt regret when trying to ponder why these feelings were assaulting her. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wangari?” Joanna snapped the lead of the troupe out her stupor with a gentle nudge on the shoulder. Ansel helped too, flapping at Wangari’s hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“O-Oh, sorry.” Wangari gulped back her unease to refocus on the conversation at hand “Thanks for helping us, but what about the bodies?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause let out the most meager of sighs, relieved to </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span> be getting somewhere. “They are already taken care of.” Before the most inquisitive of the trio could question that, Cause elaborated. “I sent them far away from here, into a place where none shall find them…. Let’s call it a pocket dimension.” Because calling it a, “dark and infinite non-euclidian expanse created by our burning desire to kill you and yours in revenge for the crimes of your magical predecessors” was a pretty bad way of earning the LNN’s short term trust. “And before you ask. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You can’t go there.” Not that cause was </span>
  <em>
    <span>entirely</span>
  </em>
  <span> against them coming later; just not now. The eldritch horrors that stalked the periphery of The Fate’s domain were notoriously hungry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because there’s no oxygen,” Cause cut Kimberly off with an easy lie. “And because you’ve a more important task to tend to.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“More important…?” Joanna cautiously rubbed her cold hands together. “What task?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have your wits been scared away from you?” Chided Cause. “You plan to find a way to release your companions,” Cause drew closer again. The trio stepped back in turn. “And to do that, you’ll need Our aid.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How did you know what we were going to do?” Asked Wangari a tad frigidly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Simple estimation.” Cause rolled her neck. “Either you’re leaving them for dead, or you’re intent on freeing them. You have few other options.” Another step forward, this time into the lights of the Kimberly’s lit light. Her face was revealed, showing her to indeed be human, though no simple spell could show the influence of eld that lurked beneath. “So what shall it be? Will you allow Us to aid you, or will you flounder about unto death?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A long few moments passed. Wordless stares were shared between the two parties, and in between the LNN. The reporting witches were all too uncomfortable with this, enough that even Joanna was getting suspicious, and she was the most trusting of the group. At the end of those awkward moments, Wangari motioned for Kimberly to take the lead. The Vietnamese American witch did so with a rueful headshake. “Let me be honest first: I wouldn’t trust you with my pen let alone my life,” Cause raised a brow. Her fists began to tighten in preparation for the worst. She may just have to pressgang these witches into service somehow. “But we don’t have any other options, so fine. What’s your plan?” Luckily for the Fate witch, no matter how much Kimberly hated this, desperation had won out over skepticism,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Causes’ fists eased up. She responded with manufactured aplomb. “We suppose it is only natural that a woman in your position be suspicious of strangers.” She formed the slightest of smiles without even knowing it. “Now, come with Us. We know a place where you can hide away until the time is right.” A beckoning hand brought the group along, though Wangari wasn’t about to leave their conversation at that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Could you fill us in at least on what we have to do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But of course,” Cause turned her back to the trio and began floating onward. She looked like she was still on the ground though, so she resembled Sucy in how she slithered about. “While We are unaware of the specifics, We know that the Bathory’s plan to conduct a ritual of sorts, with you and yours as the sacrifices.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“B-Bathory?” Joanna shuddered. She recognized the name, and Kimberly kind of did, but Wangari was clueless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nevermind it for now. You know that they are vampires, and that they seek to sacrifice you. That is all you need to know outside of your role in disrupting the ritual.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s the ritual even for?” Asked Joanna. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause pursed her lips, gauging the upsides and downsides of spilling her secrets, even if they were incomplete ones. “From your blood, they intend to gain power.” She’d say that much. “What kind of power, and how, is unknown. What matters is that they be stopped, or else they shall wreak untold havoc on mankind.” For the first time in millenia, Cause was actually being honest to a student of The Eight. Though, maybe she should have kept quiet about that whole “wreaking untold havoc on mankind” part, for it stopped the Polish witch cold.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?!” Exclaimed Joanna. “How could they—!?” Her words were cut short when Cause spun around and gestured for silence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fear not their endgame, nor their strength, for We shall guide you.” Cause sounded genuinely firm. She had to be. Humanity’s survival was what she had been fighting for from the start, her and Effect both, even if vengeance had taken up the forefront of their minds over the years. “Where We can’t afford to fail, We will ensure that you are incapable of failure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Joanna looked down at nothing in particular. Ansel tried to raise her moral with a little wing-rub against her cheek, but she was just a bit too distraught. They had no time to waste however, and thus Joanna forced herself forward as she shook her head “Alright. Then let’s keep going.”  Cause started off again, satisfied, while Wangari and Kimberly followed Joanna either side. The former of the two undergrads gave Joanna a reassuring nod and shoulder-grip, while the latter kept up with the questions:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, so they’re stupidly evil vampires trying to rule the world or something, and we need to stop them by disrupting a ritual.” She raised up one finger for her next point, “A: How do we do that,” Then one more, “B: What do you mean when the time is right?” Then one final time” And C: Why does a ‘skilled and powerful sorcerer’ need the help of three undergrad witches?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause folded her hands behind her back. She pursed her lips out of sight from the LNN, hiding her less than certain expression. “In order: A, We are not entirely sure, but we will be soon. Our sister is investigating that matter as we speak. B: By the time being right, We mean that a battle will soon be commencing between the Bathory’s and a great many witches. It is during this commotion when you will strike out. And C: That is because—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, wait, wait!” Wangari’s eyes went wide. “You mean there’s people coming to rescue us!?” Cause jerked her head around, looking a bit more than annoyed to be interrupted. Wangari fumbled to correct herself. “I-I-I mean, besides you and your sister.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Cause groaned before she floated forward, carrying on their path as well as the conversation. “Yes, you heard Us correctly. A throng of witches gathers on the coast,” She couldn’t disguise the bitterness in her voice. “And they will likely strike soon; within the week, by Our estimates.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wangari, Kimberly, and Joanna all looked to one another, swelling with newfound hope and energy.  Wangari’s suspicion that help would come was true, and their efforts to escape hadn’t been for naught. None of them could stop smiling, not even when they spoke. “So we’re going to use the chaos during the fight to find an opening to stop this ritual?” Asked Wangari.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Precisely.” Answered Cause. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A second wind coursed through the undergrad witches’ veins. They quietly rejoiced, but not for long. Joanna realized what this meant, “But what are we going to do about the other students?” And in turn, she gave pause to Kimberly and Wangari. “How is stopping the ritual going to save them? Won’t the vampires just… kill them?” They had killed for worse reasons. “How will we save them?” Gwen was proof of that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause didn’t bother turning around, though she did falter in her floating stride. She needed to answer this “correctly.” If anything was going to make this manipulation unfeasible, it would be a poor deception. “Our sister is hard at work discerning the intricacies of the Bathory’s ritual. Once we are aware of its weaknesses, we can proceed from there with crafting a more cohesive plan.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Joanna and Wangari bought it initially, but Kimberly wouldn’t let it go. There was a glaring flaw in Causes’ plan, “So why not just worry about saving us and everyone else if this ritual requires sacrifices?” A flaw Cause had hoped they’d overlook. “If we free everyone and get them out safely, then there’s no way for these creeps to do their ritual.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pray tell then,” Snapped Cause. “How do you expect Us to shepherd over a hundred frightened, starving, and exhausted </span>
  <em>
    <span>children</span>
  </em>
  <span> from a castle such as this?” She glanced over her shoulder to address this seeming hole in her lie for what she hoped would be the last time tonight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kimberly crossed her arms, leering at the Witch in Red as she laid into her with rapid fire inquests. “I dunno, why don’t you tell me, miss all powerful sorcerer? How about your sister? Is she as powerful as you are? Just how powerful are you anyway, because you still haven’t explained why—” Kimberly’s lips kept moving, but no sounds were made. Wangari and Joanna both leaned back in confusion while their friend kept prattling on, only to realize what happened only a moment later. She mouthed what must have been a Vietnamese explicative before switching to Pidgin Signed English; a valuable thing to know when you’re the lead interviewer of a would-be news station. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What did you do!?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause took a deep breath, minding her seething impatience as she held a partial fist in the air at cheek height; her fingers were craned and angled in a particular pattern. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> were </span>
  <em>
    <span>kind enough</span>
  </em>
  <span> to interrupt Us earlier when We were about to </span>
  <em>
    <span>explain</span>
  </em>
  <span> the part that would make your concerns a non-issue. So </span>
  <em>
    <span>We </span>
  </em>
  <span>were </span>
  <em>
    <span>kind enough</span>
  </em>
  <span> to interrupt your useless rambling before you waste more of your breath!” She wasn’t even trying that hard to hide her disdain at this point. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In response, Kimberly signed one word: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Petty.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, quite....” Cause tightened her raised hand into a complete fist, thus returning Kimberly’s voice. “Now…” She turned about fully again and spoke with undisguised contempt. “Will you listen, or will you waste more of Our limited time!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kimberly fired back before Wangari and Joanna could even think about diffusing the situation. “That depends on whether not you start making sense!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause fumed. “Be silent you insolent—!” The flapping of a cloth cloak in the wind halted her, alongside the barking rebukes of her twin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cause!” Effect had just flown in from over Wangari and company’s heads; the crew ducked down in surprise. “Why are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>berating</span>
  </em>
  <span> the witches we are trying to </span>
  <em>
    <span>save</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” She put enough emphasis on the words to make them seem both genuine and fake enough to get two meanings across; one for Cause, and one for the LNN. “Instead of showing them to a safe location!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We were </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do that!” Retorted Cause, who floated up a bit to meet her twin’s gaze. “But this one,” She pointed at Kimberly without breaking eye contact with Effect. “Doesn’t seem to understand the urgency of the situation!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ugh!” Effect rubbed her temples hopelessly. “This is why We should have never trusted you with the diplomatic side of things.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, because you’re such a wonderful wordsmith!” Cause rolled her eyes and mockingly waved her hands about. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wangari, Joanna, and Kimberly meanwhile slowly stood back up and gave each other completely incredulous looks. “We are! Actually! Perhaps if you weren’t so hog headed you’d have realized that by now!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhh… are they…?” Whispered Wangari. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah….” Murmured Kim. “Yeah, they’re sisters alright.” Kim should know. She had three younger ones. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are they going to—?” Joanna’s question was answered for her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hog headed!?” Growled Cause. “Ironic coming from the one who could barely hold a conversation with a human before we saw our twentieth summer!” Indeed, Effect had talked to many a hog as a youth. She always preferred animals. “Hells! You said you </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to do this part, so why are you getting on Our case about it now!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yep.” Kimberly nodded. “Told you she was petty.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So… what about the whole… urgency thing?” That seemed to have gone out the window in Wangari’s eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kim shook her head. “No idea.” She didn’t have the energy to intervene.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How dare you—!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Which once again left Joanna to sort things out. “Um! Excuse me!” Her hoarse yell drew the Twin’s attention, and quickly saw them straighten out their act. “If you’re her sister, could you please tell us how we disrupt the ritual? You know how it works right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We said she was—” Began Cause.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We can speak for Ourself!” Interrupted Effect, thumbing to her own chest and pushing her twin out of the way. “Now then…. Where were We?” The Witch in Green took her time preparing a response, compared to Causes’ snappy comebacks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wangari rubbed at her chin in the interim. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Wait… we We? Or...? Which is…? Oh god, this is gonna be confusing.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>They sounded too damn similar for her liking. It made following the conversation truly hellish. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Effect clicked her tongue as the pieces fell together into her head. “Ah, yes….” A few moments later, she spoke with greater candor when compared to her twin in red. “From our initial investigation, We have determined this: The ritual requires the… processing of sacrifices, or ‘supplicants,’ to use their own words.” She gestured casually when speaking, further opening up her posture, as if inviting the other witches to dialogue with her. “How they process them, We do not know, but We do know that they require a machine to expedite the process.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A machine...?” Kimberly’s mind went to her knowledge of cattle farms out in the midwestern states back home. She remembered hearing about how the cows are led along through gates until they enter a dark room. A worker, likely underpaid, stands beside it and holds a bolt pistol to its head; a “humane stunner,” as it's sometimes known. called. And then Kimberly’s mind blanked in self defence. A sickening feeling saw her gut lurch and hurdle. “We need to destroy it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That is an option,” Effect nodded along. “But haste will serve us ill. We’ve time yet, and We know just where to hide you three in the meantime.” She gestured down the hall and the group was initially going down. “So do come with us.” Once again, the trio consulted silently amongst themselves. Their tired eyes, empty gullets, and parched throats practically spoke for them, but Kimberly and Wangari weren’t certain enough to say anything aloud. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Joanna was suspicious of it all still, but she also didn’t have the willpower to keep acting like they had any other options. “Could you give us food and water? And a place to sleep?” Cause cracked her jaw idly before she gave a nod. Effect returned it in kind. Joanna looked to her friends and made the obvious clear: “We have to go with them.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you do.” Chided Cause, only to earn a leer from her Twin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wangari and Kimberly gave each other long looks, sizing each other’s emotions and stances on the matter just by eye contact and gestures alone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wangari’s hands drifted to her stomach. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“We’ll starve out here if we don’t go with them.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kimberly gently nudged her head away from the Fates. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“We could try and raid the food storages.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wangari slid one of her hands over the other and tapped the wrist. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“If we find them in time.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She gave a small huff and shook her head then. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t like this either. We don’t have to trust them, but we have to follow them.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kimberly’s eyes drifted away, off toward nothing in particular. She wanted to argue against it, as she did most things, but time was critical, and their strength would be better used elsewhere. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“If things are as bad as these witches say,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Thought Kimberly to herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Then I guess we really don’t have a choice.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Which left Kimberly with one final question. “Before we go,” She turned her body full on to face the witches in red and green, making sure to take a good long look at them. “Why do we have to be the ones to sabotage this ritual when you two seem capable enough as is?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Effect was going to answer, but Cause butted in out of spite. “We were trying to explain that earlier. When the battle begins, We and Our sister will have our hands full ensuring that the tide turns in our favor.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Effect sent Cause a telepathic reminder then. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Ahem.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause blinked once before she realized what should be said. “Otherwise, the Bathory’s may claim victory.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Effect put her hands behind her back. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Better.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cause struggled not to give her twin a rude gesture. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Go to hell.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“After you.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Effect got the last word in their little mental spat before she shifted their focus back to the physical world. “While it is hardly optimal, We hope you understand the importance of our task.” The logic was clear: If the Bathorys won the battle, no amount of sabotage would keep them at bay forever. But if the Bathory’s lost, yet were able to conduct the ritual unhindered, it may not even matter that their forces had been defeated. Thus demanding the success of both parties. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The LNN didn’t need to think hard to come to that realization. “We understand.” Wangari offered her friends a consulatory glance after she’d spoken for them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Joanna shuffled in place uncomfortable. “We’ll do it.” She and Ansel both gave a nod before looking to Kimberly, who was still eyeing up Cause and Effect. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“God these two are weird.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was the only conclusion Kim could come to about the Twins, leaving her with that strange feeling of familiarity. None of that dealt with the issue at hand though, and so Kimberly was forced to concede her position. “Yeah, we’ll do it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Effect smiled softly, while Cause sighed heavily. “Very good,” Said the two of them in unison, but in very different tones; appreciative and annoyed respectively. “This way now.” The Twins took flight again and started to float away, down the hall toward what looked like a two three way intersection, only for the Witch in Red to snap her fingers and work her magicks. Stone and brick shuffled out of the way. The architecture of the halls shifted and changed to support the new shape, stretching out to the left and right as if the geometry of the place was malleable. It was as if these halls were but one piece in an ever changing, three dimensional jigsaw. The wall bricks fell into line where a “new” section of ceiling now was, leaving a clear path forward, with the Twins standing on either side of the entrance, bidding their pawns forward. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The LNN moved with surprising haste. The allure of food and water, conjured by magic or otherwise, was too much to resist in those moments, even for the ever suspicious Kimberly. That didn’t make any of them feel much better about the fact that this wasn’t a reporter’s job, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“But someone needs to do it,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kimberly gave each Fate a fleeting glare as she passed them, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“And I guess that someone has to be us.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>But before then, Kimberly was determined to try and figure out who these witches were. If only it’d be that easy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once the trio was in the hidden passage, the Twin Fates followed them down the winding and dark corridors, closing up the bricks behind them as they went, and eventually left the three witches in a previously unused chamber of the castle, one meant for servants. Where it was in relation to everything else was a mystery, one that didn’t need answering. Cause and Effect would see it put </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> where it needs to be when the time comes, such was their mastery over the castle’s maze. With the LNN’s safety and cooperation ensured, the Twins imparted gifts of delicious food and drink unto them, and sealed them away until the time was right. Only when they were far away from earshot did either Twin dare let their masks drop. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“This would’ve been easier if you weren’t such an impatient brute.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Chided Effect in the mind of Cause. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Then tell Us why you didn’t just do this yourself, oh great wordsmith?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Causes’ thoughts oozed sarcasm; almost literally. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Effect scoffed as she opened up a portal to their void domain. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Because We can’t stand having to put on an act.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She shot a backward glare to Cause before she stepped through the portal. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Now come on. We tire of this.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She disappeared into the black, followed by her sister. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“As do We.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The portal closed behind Cause, leaving the Twins with little to do but wait for the day of reckoning, stewing in their shared loathing and regret, all while silently lamenting the looming threat of a necessary sacrifice. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1wGWIFqDOM8PVsKKY149-TIsSaNa_ay7P4Wdq9t4EhwE/edit?usp=sharing">
    <strong>THOUGH YOU CANNOT SEE ME, I AM HAPPY;</strong>
  </a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1wGWIFqDOM8PVsKKY149-TIsSaNa_ay7P4Wdq9t4EhwE/edit?usp=sharing">
    <strong>LITTLE VICTORIES, LITTLE NUDGES;</strong>
  </a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1wGWIFqDOM8PVsKKY149-TIsSaNa_ay7P4Wdq9t4EhwE/edit?usp=sharing">
    <strong>THINGS LIKE THIS... MAKE THESE CYCLES WORTH REPEATING</strong>
  </a>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><hr/><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Where Witches Dare</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey all! sorry this came out a few days late. I've been taking days off of work, and in turn I've also been relaxing overall,so I've been a bit slower on the writing, but I feel its been best for my mental health. That and I have a bunch of new games I've been enjoying the hell out of! Hades is amazing, for one, but I expected nothing less from the people who made Pure. It's been a good few weeks overall, and I hope me delivering chapter 26 to you makes yours as well!</p><p>OH! And be on the lookout at the end. The format is going to look... strange. Don't worry. It's intentional. Tell me if you can't understand what is beings aid. I'll post a clear version in the notes. </p><p> </p><p>My Tumblr: https://karmotrinedreams91.tumblr.com/ </p><p>My Twitter: https://twitter.com/KarmotrineDrea1</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Evening started to take hold. Or at least, the vista out of the apartment window made it seem that way. Winter had its way of shortening days to comical length, as if the sun and its warmth were but ephemeral passerbys, leaving only gloom of the moon as a certainty. It didn’t help that England’s weather was fucking awful. <em> “Can’t believe I’m saying this: But thank god Hannah and Barbara chose France for that shop of theirs.” </em> It was about four in the afternoon. Amanda was sat at the end of a plain bed in a plain room, or at least it would be plain were it not for the riding broom in the corner beside her blades. Not even the seaward view offered solace, for the false storm of Luna Nova lingered over it, and England’s sky seemed perpetually cloudy these past few days. <em> “Seriously, could it not rain or be dreary as hell for more than one day here?” </em>Idle distractions, mindful musings in the quiet of this third night since their initial re-arrival in Porthcurno. </p><p> </p><p><em> “At least it’s a small town and not fucking Paris.” </em> The thought of the good times that would follow their victory gave Amanda solace. And any chance to express her distaste for Paris was welcome, though it was never done without her tongue most of the way against her cheek. <em> “Could be better, could be worse.” </em> She let her arms rest and dangle in her lap. The day had been long; all three of them had. Now, in the final hours before the battle, everything felt slow to the point of half-lucidity, as if everything were a dream. No sensation stayed terribly long, buty every moment felt drawn out and complex, even the ones where Amanda, much like she was right then, was just sitting there, staring down at the floor, her boots, her lap; nothing in particular. <em> “But I guess it’s always like that, yeah?” </em>She agreed with herself before the question was even self-poised. Amanda lifted her eyes up just enough to look at the distant island one final time before the heaviness in her heart bid her to close the blinds. </p><p> </p><p>She turned about, now up on her feet, and paced about aimlessly, running her right hand along the wall and stuffing the left in her leather jacket. <em> “We’ve done what we could at least.” </em>Her mind raced backward. The last three days were a nonstop whirlwind of activity. Amanda reflected on them as deliberately as she could, even as events got jumbled out of order in the chaos of it all:</p><p> </p><p>Amanda, Constanze, and Lotte had split ways in some regarding during those days. Amanda and Lotte kept it close, but that was so Amanda could help teach her some offensive magicks and how to defend herself in a fight; basic self defense and dirty-fighting tactics. Lotte took to it like a penguin to spilt oil, but this wasn’t the time to worry about preferences and suitability. This battle was going to require all hands on deck to be at the ready, and Amanda made damn sure that those hands knew how to properly form a fist and throw a punch, so to speak. She’d fought tons of different monsters, calmed dozens of raging Fae, and won her way out in no small amount of brawls with people and entities she had no business tussling with. That, combined with her “natural” abilities to orate and teach others these kinds of things, made her the perfect option to get some of the less hardy witches and locals, and even some Fae, up to snuff. <em> “Guess Conz was right all along.” </em> As if she ever doubted her sister deep down, even when her lips said otherwise. <em> “I’m not half bad at this whole leadin’ thing.” </em> And she sure as hell knew how to get her would-be comrades hyped up and ready for a fight; a certain belligerent charisma that got everyone as fired up as she was. Pun most certainly intended. <em> “If only it was as easy as just training these people up.” </em> Amanda shook her head. </p><p> </p><p>The days had indeed been productive in martialing up the various bands of allies, whose numbers only grew as the days went on, but Amanda wasn’t about to ignore the petty and migraine worthy complications that came with the territory. <em> “At least we ain’t the only ones around here keeping people focused.” </em> Just thinking about it now was starting to give her another headache. <em> “Honestly, how did something like the Balefire keep all these different groups and people working nicely together?” </em> Maxwell had hemmed and hawed about the storied history of the order over these past few days. He spoke on and on of the many alliances within and without the order, how various covens pledged allegiance, serving more as auxiliary allies and friends to the flame rather than as extended arms of the Balefire itself, and how everything ran rather smoothly. <em> “But I guess they didn’t have a customary dueling bow just for kicks.” </em>Amanda thought back to the skeleton hunters that dueled her down in the sanctum, Based on that alone, it was clear that things weren’t as “friendly” as Maxwell liked to describe them, and the present quibbling between covens, gangs, groups of friends and strangers, they all all reflected that selfsame truth.</p><p> </p><p> <em> “Figures.” </em> Amanda sighed and leaned her back against the wall, casting her eyes to the ceiling. <em> “I just hope we don’t end up making the same mistakes they made.” </em> The truths of the Balefire’s politicking were lost to time in many regards. All they could do in the here and now was just that: Exist in the here and now, understand the material conditions, and work their hardest for a better tomorrow. <em> “At least things have quieted down.” </em> Relented Amanda, both hands now in her jacket. <em> “I just wish those people didn’t have to leave.” </em> It was a group of locals who started the worst of the inter-Porthcurno conflict. They were quite dissatisfied with the state of affairs; the witches arriving in droves, their town being transformed to a point of near unrecognizability, for better or worse, the conflict at their doorstep. It was understandable, of course, but their grievances were mostly founded in fear and distrust. <em> “I wanna say they were mostly the people who wanted me and Conz mobbed for ‘causing’ those Fae and monsters to get dropped on the town in the first place.” </em> The ones who changed their tunes when Amanda made clear that there were no alternatives: They either ran away, died along, or stood together as a community against the Bathorys. <em> “Guess it just became too much for ‘em.” </em> She supposed change had a way of turning people off like that, but Amanda knew it to be deeper. <em> “Years of them being told that magical types are a bunch’a crazy freaks didn’t help though.” </em>And that was just the locals. </p><p> </p><p>There were plenty of other petty conflicts. Two covens in particular, The Sisters of Starfall, a group of women from Paris who specialized in astrological magicks and celestially powered enchantments, and the Trinity of Horns, a unisex collective of witches from Croatia who practiced magicks focused around partial metamorphosis, got into a spat on more than one occasion. Maxwell ended up settling those debates, as they were apparently over some customs of the Trinity being infringed on (unknowingly) by the Sisters. It was something about disputes over using certain parts of town for rituals not dissimilar to prayers, done at specific times of day. That, and a apparently the two covens had some strangely deep history between the two. <em> “She said this, he did that, they went here and there…. Yadayada.” </em>In other words, it was a bunch of nonsense that could have been settled easily if everyone just got along. </p><p> </p><p><em> “I’d say I’m surprised people still find ways to be petty when, you know, a giant ship full of vampires trying to kill us is nearby, but I guess witches just gotta be complicated.” </em> Meticulous rituals and practices came with the territory of historyed covens, and the Balefire was no exception. It was just that Amanda didn’t give a damn to learn those customs right now, or maybe ever. <em> “At least they were mostly peaceful about the whole ordeal.” </em> Mostly. A few punches got thrown, but everyone walked it off. <em> “Unlike some unhelpful bastards….” </em> Amanda’s eyes rolled themselves for her at the thought of the handful of hooligans, the bad kind, who had been causing trouble around town at every turn. Amanda couldn’t parse why they even came, except maybe that one Pixie. They were obviously there to cause problems on purpose, but such is the Pixie’s life. And such is its fate to be kicked out when alongside said hooligans when they were caught making everyone’s lives harder. <em> “You know, if this is how running the order is gonna be like twenty-four seven….” </em> Amanda’s thoughts trailed off. <em> “Ahh hell. I’ll get used to it.” </em> She chuckled and let the worry wash off her back like rainwater. She felt surprisingly at ease. <em> “I guess it must be hard to get yourself down and out when you’re too damn busy to even get stuck thinking like that.” </em>Indeed, the voices had been… quieter, we’ll say. </p><p> </p><p>Talking to Lotte again helped with that; it got the white lie off her chest. <em> “Why did I even worry that she was gonna flip out at me?” </em> The lie by omission about how they fared in the trial against Asgall. There was no interruption. Amanda and Constanze lost, fair and square; as fair and square as fighting an ascended vampire can be. <em> “Like, why didn’t I just….” </em> Amanda sighed. <em> “Yeah, yeah, I know why. Don’t rub it in.” </em> It felt strange talking to herself like this, but only when she realized she was doing it. <em> “I’m just glad to get it out of the way….” </em> For whatever reason, it had been weighing on her. Maybe it was the fact that Lotte was a friend. They weren’t extremely close, but the New Nine as a group was pretty cohesive all around, so it stung to lie to a friend like that. Or maybe it was the fact that Amanda was trying to bury her failure with the lie. In the end, Amanda didn’t care for the reason, only for the current results. <em> “And hey, she seemed to get it.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Indeed, Lotte had been quite understanding about it all. Her sentiments passed by in Amanda’s mind in quiet whistles, carried on the winter-beach winds that chilled them on the day of their speaking: <em> “It makes sense, I guess.” </em> Lotte and Amanda were sitting on one of the jetties, <em> “I-I mean, I know why you’d do it.” </em> The former of which had sand in all sorts of unsavory places from her arduous, and ultimately half-fruitful training. <em> “You were probably really embarrassed and… and I would be too.” </em> It was a comforting thought for Amanda at the time, <em> “M-Maybe that’s the wrong word though….” </em> But looking back, Amanda felt strange about the whole exchange. <em> “Either way, I um, I get it. It was a little white lie and… and it’s not like it’s stopped us from doing what’s important.” </em> Lotte gave a smile with her sentiment but it was faker than any of Amanda’s ever had been, <em> “Even if i’m not really doing anything but slowing you guys down.” </em>All because Amanda knew Lotte couldn’t give less of a shit about something as petty as a prideful white lie, and why would she? </p><p> </p><p>Maybe there was some rationale behind it to certain folks, but looking back, Amanda thought the whole worrying on her part was just plain stupid. No, what had been chewing up Lotte was… well it was something else entirely, and it served as way more of a detriment to their mission than Amanda’s dumb lie: A certain emptiness, a flatness to Lotte’s expressions and responses; it was very uncharacteristic of her. <em> “And she seems even more awkward than usual.” </em> Amanda rolled her head back against the wall so that she was looking straight up. <em> “Like, we’ve known each other for years, but now she's stuttering like she did back during her first year.” </em> Amanda didn’t feel she was even half prepared to try and figure out why, beyond hazarding the pretty obvious guess: <em> “I get that war is hell and all, but….” </em> But that just wasn’t the whole story, because if it was, then Lotte would have vouched to stay home a long time ago. <em> “Or…. Would she?” </em> The uncertainty was completely impenetrable. <em> “It’s not like I can just ask her: ‘Hey Lotte, I noticed you looked like I do after a gin-binge goes wrong. Wanna tell me all your private feelings about why you’re having a shit time in the middle of this crisis?’”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Amanda almost laughed at her own comedy, but quickly found herself sighing at the fact that Constanze and Amanda had <em> basically </em> done the exact same things to each other throughout this whole ordeal over and over again. <em> “Well, shit…. Could I just do that?” </em> Without the gin-binge reference, or the clumsy wording, no matter how on brand it was for the Texan witch. <em> “Ahh hell, who am I kidding.” </em> Amanda shook her head and let it fall back down, her eyes now upon her boots. <em> “We ain’t got time for that. It’s already… what,” </em> She slickly drew her wand and tapped a holo-magical timer up. <em> “Nearly five.” </em> PM to be specific, since Constanze wasn’t around to correct her sister for using anything but “military” time. <em> “Barely even three hours before we gotta start clocking out.” </em> They’d have to all be up quite early in the morning if they wanted to be rested enough for the final battle since Maxwell would see them fight in the wee hours of the morning. <em> “I guess that means Lotte’s shits going on the ‘to-do-later’ pile too.” </em> That alongside the whole mystery surrounding The Nine, Woodward, and… well, just about damn near everything else that’s happened on this “adventure” of theirs. It all made Amanda sigh. <em> “God damnit….”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Nothing to do about that now though. Those were things for another day, hence the name of the “pile.” Thus, Amanda let her mind wander with her legs as she moved toward the door of her tiny, one room apartment. <em> “Speaking of Maxwell...” </em> She stuck her wand back in her pocket and cracked her jaw casually. <em> “When’s that meeting supposed to </em> — <em> ”  </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Knock knock! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Amanda? Amanda, are you in there?” Maxwell called from just beyond the door. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Huh.” </em> Amanda smirked. <em> “Speak of the fuckin’ devil.” </em>She took one more step forward and turned the knob with ease. “Sure am.” With the door opened, Amanda stuffed her hands back in her jacket. “Y’know, I was just about to go looking for you, Maxy.” Amanda had a calm, but weary smile on her face. The past three days had been long, and the hard part hadn’t even started yet. </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell wore that same weariness on his similarly aloof smirk, just as his “old as dust” cloak carried it in every fiber and stitching, worn from all those years spent in relative solitude. “For good reasons, I’d hope.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda nodded. “Good enough.” </p><p> </p><p>“Want me to come in then?” Despite his plain preference for the attires of days gone by, simpler as they were, Maxwell couldn’t help but wear a pear of workman’s jeans and a heavy flannel jacket below the layer of robes. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda gave him a second lookover to admire the strange but welcoming juxtaposition  of ritualistic dress with a woodsman’s wardrobe. “Doesn’t seem like you’re in a rush, so sure.” Amanda stepped back and ushered the elder hunter in with a simple gesture. “You aren’t in a rush, right?” </p><p> </p><p>“No, no, not terribly.” Maxwell shuffled inside with the aid of his staff, “But… Ach,” And grunted out a long and beleaguered groan as he sat himself down on the stiff but serviceable bed Amanda had been using. “I suppose we really should be in a rush. What with all that’s left to do.” He laid his staff across his lap now and rested his arms over top it, his head turned sidelong to follow Amanda as she started to pace again. </p><p> </p><p>“Do we really have that much left to do?” Asked Amanda Genuinely, her gaze elsewhere and nowhere. </p><p> </p><p>“In an ideal world, absolutely.” Maxwell shook his head. “But… this is all far from ideal.” A wistful sigh escaped his lips. “No, in truth, we’ve done all we could. Me, you, Constanze, everyone who’s come to Porthcurno has given their best efforts….” He shifted uncomfortably on the bed, hopelessly in search of a comfy spot to sit on the brick-stiff mattress. “Nine willing, our best efforts will be enough.” </p><p> </p><p>“Mmmhmm….” It’s the only response Amanda could muster. That and a long, contemplative stare thrown Maxwell’s way before both of them naturally saw their visual focus drift elsewhere. “So what’s up then? Something on your mind?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, no, not really.” A lie, but a topical one. Amanda understood it well. “I just came to inform you that the Convocation of The Hunt will be held within an hour and a half in the town square. I wanted to be sure that you were ready.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda nodded along at first as if all was well, but quickly made a double take. “Convocation of The Hunt…?” Her calm, muted smile turned into a dumb grin as she facecd her body toward Maxwell. “Maxy, for god’s sake, you can just call it a meeting like a normal person.”</p><p> </p><p>“And disrespect the traditions of our order?” The Scot's response came snappily; deadpan tone, blank eyes, disinterested grimace speaking to a curmudgeon of a man who’d long since forgotten the meaning of humor. “Absolutely not.” Amanda scoffed at him, half closing one eye in confusion, and the two shared strange looks for a long few moments of silence. Then Maxwell’s dams began to break. “Pfffhhthbb…. Hmhmhm!” He raised a hand to cover his mouth, unable to hide his dumb grin anymore. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda started chuckling. “Hehehe….” She wiped her face and chin while she shook her head. </p><p> </p><p>Then Maxwell let his act drop completely. “Bahaha!” He waved Amanda off casually and rocked back and forth a tad. “The look on your bloody face, Amanda! Haha!” The old bastard, old and bastardy as he was, was anything but a humorless curmudgeon. </p><p> </p><p>“Alright, alright, you got me.” Amanda immediately thought of Ibrahim; how he’d got her with that same kind of trick, but with a crazy claim about bigfoot being real. Not that Amanda or Ibrahim had the clearance to know the truth of that fact anyways. But that’s beside the point; just another reminder of why this was all so important. All the lives at stake. “Now quit giggling and let's get going. For once I’d rather be early.” Over being fashionably late that is.</p><p> </p><p>Maxwell’s laughter petered off naturally, “Ahhh… haha…. Yes, yes, we’ll go.” And was replaced by a familiar seriousness, his eyes hardening just a bit as he settled his gaze on Amanda. “I wanted to ask about how you’ve been handling what I told you about Dyrnwyn.” It forced Amanda to freeze in place. </p><p> </p><p>“About that….” She couldn’t back out of this topic with Maxwell looking at her like that, not that she truly wanted to, despite all the instinctual claxons in her brain that told her to run. <em> “If you can figure out that a whitye lie is nothing to worry about,” </em> Said the more rational side of Amanda’s conscious to the rest of itself. <em> “Then you can stop getting your panties in a bunch over that sword already.” </em>It was already hard for Amanda to argue with herself, and the blunt obviousness of the sentiment made it impossible for Amanda to weasel around. It was better that way for her. “To be honest,” She rubbed the back of her neck, speaking aloud in a slightly tired voice. “I’m not really sure.” </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell nodded understandably, contradictory to what Amanda expected. “She’s a strange beast, that blade of yours.” A small amount of regret tinged his tongue. He slightly tensed his knuckles and shifted in his seat. “Really, I should have warned you about how picky it could be before you took it up, but… well, to speak for those not with us: I got caught up in the ‘romance’ of it all.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda shook her head and decided to have a seat beside the old hunter. “Ah hell. Don’t go blaming yourself for me getting worked up over this.” She held a pensive expression, unsure of exactly how to emote what she was feeling. </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell nodded along, “I know, I’m not trying to,” Though his dissatisfied look remained. “But I can’t help but think that maybe it'd have been better if I never told you about Dyrnwyn’s clause; if all I said was that it was a flaming sword whose edge never dulled.” He managed to force a half smile. “But that would make it too easy, wouldn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda returned the smile in kind, uneasy as she was. “Easy? Pff. More like cliche.” She hopped up from the bed, her body unsure of whether it prefered stillness or constant motion. “How many stories are there about the hero using a flaming sword to solve all their problems?” </p><p> </p><p>“Just because it feels like it’s part of a pattern,” Maxwell intoined with a grunt as he got himself up on both feet with the aid of his staff. “Doesn’t mean the pattern doesn’t exist for a reason.” He rapt his staff twice against the floor to accentuate whatever point he was or wasn’t making. “But that’s neither here nor there. The sword is yours to draw, and whether it’s drawn at all or not is your choice.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda’s eyes wandered over to the blade in question. It stood, leaned up against the wall, sheathed in full. “But Jehanne said I’ll need it.” Her voice was softer than usual. There was no bluster to be had in this admittance. “So if I can’t do it, then—”</p><p> </p><p>“Then it will <em> remain </em>sheathed.” Maxwell put his boney left hand on Amanda’s shoulder, refocusing her gaze upon him. “You know that the blade needn’t be fully drawn to be invaluable in a fight, and no matter what Jehanne said, she is not omniscient.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda sighed quietly. “I know…. It… she….” Words escaped her briefly. She had to shrug Maxwell’s hand off and run her hands through her own hair, allowing it to “fwip” back into its spiky style all of its own accord. “She sounded like she knew things though. Like, she <em> really </em> knew what was gonna happen.” Vaal had that quality too, based on Constanze’s own accounts. “It’s got me feeling all sorts of weird.”</p><p> </p><p>Maxwell hummed thoughtfully, grimly. He stroked his beard and pondered on it for a moment. “I know it’s unlikely to ease your worried heart, but I want you to hear this old fool’s ‘wisdom’ one last time before we go off to fight….” Unspoken went the words: <em> “Off to die.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Mercifully, Amanda didn’t pick up on his bleak acceptance. She turned her head to face him and spoke warmly. “You know, for all the shit I give you, Maxwell,” The “old fool’s” eyes widened just a bit. “You’ll never hear me say that you didn’t help me make sense of things.” A genuine smile graced Amanda’s face. It was her way of thanking Maxwell. He’d been a good mentor, intentionally or otherwise, and he’d keep being that way for years to come if Amanda had anything to say about it. </p><p> </p><p>The sentiment nearly had Maxwell shed a tear, but he’d seen worse, cried for less, but knew this moment to be something that no tears were necessary for. “Don’t make me hold you to that promise now.” He swallowed back the tender urge out of no masucline sense of compulsory stoicism, but out of genuine pride in feeling he’d done well, and that he could do even better with this new generation of hunters and smiths given time. “But before I get all wound up in flattery,” He would cry when his work was done; when their flame roared around the world. “I want to say my piece.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda gestured casually toward him. “The floor’s yours.” She was more than happy to hear him out. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll warn you now then,” Maxwell started shuffling past Amanda, heading toward the door. “It’s a bit of a story…. Care to walk and talk? I wouldn’t want to be late for the Convocation.” Amanda indulged him. She brought the blades, her wand, and broom with her as the two made way at a leisurely pace out of the rundown apartment building. The crisis hadn’t been kind to it, but it wasn’t much of a looker before the Bathory’s either. Nevertheless, Maxwell went on with his tale as they strolled down the halls and stairways: “It was back during the… the thirties. Yes, the thirties. I’d been a hunter for about two decades now, and I was travelling about northern Spain, helping out one of the Candles that’d fallen dim in light of Franco’s takeover….” The revolution there had cost the Balefire even more lives of its endangered ranks; Maxwell and his fellows were there to handle one of the last well documented cases of Basilisk attacks on civilian abodes before the resurgence of magic. “.... And during all of that hunting, and peacekeeping, and rabble rousing, I came across a strange fellow on the road. He had a big wagon, donkey and all, adorned with all sorts of tacky little knick-knacks that hurt your eyes to look at they were so ugly.” Maxwell chuckled thinking back to it. They were all cheap imitations of genuine cultural artifacts from around the world. But even if they were genuine, maybe only one or two would have held genuine magical power. “He claimed he was a ‘magician,’ not knowin’ who or what I was, and offered to tell me of my fate….” He rolled his eyes, “Ahhh…. The poor bastard was a charlatan, of course, and I called him on it.” Then he spat off to the side as the two had exited the building. “I told him to bugger off and leave a real mage to his magicks, and to quit pretending he was some ‘mystical’ and ‘exotic’ man when he knew nothin’ of the lands more than a mile from his home.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sounds like a jackass.” Said Amanda plainly as the chill of the outdoors ran up her back. </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell nodded. “Aye. He was a bampot through and through.” </p><p> </p><p>“So what’d he do when you tagged him?”</p><p> </p><p>“The thing was, he <em> knew </em>he was being a damn fool. He said it himself!” Maxwell sounded just as surprised then as he did now. “I don’t know if he was just bein’ pathetic, trying to grovel for some forgiveness from me, or if he was genuinely having some sort of epiphany, but either way, he practically begged me to hear him out.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hear him out? Ain’t he the one who tried to con you?” Amanda glanced slightly in Maxwell’s direction.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, yes, but he had an excuse…. Twelve excuses, actually, but the one that I’m going to tell you stuck with me.” Maxwell let his eyes wander up to read the worn signs of the Porthcurno shoppes as they passed them by, the streets active with witches, locals, and Fae at work, though not as active as they were but a few hours ago. “He told me that he’d been told his own fate by a <em> different </em> soothsayer, and that her reading of fate had destined him to do as she did: Wander the world to aid others in finding the answers they seek. He went on and said that he’d been following her advice for… ohh, was it months or years or…? It doesn’t matter. What does matter is what he said next: He’d been blindly following fate, like a dog led by the leash, when he should’ve realized that he’d never been collared in the first place.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda rolled her neck and shoulders. “Soooo, where’s the big lesson in all of this?” </p><p> </p><p>“I’m getting there.” Assured Maxwell. “He told me that and I started talking with him. I asked him where he was from, about his family, his life and where he was going…. Again, I can’t be sure if he was lying or not, because he seemed like the kind of man who lied as much as he did breathe, but in the end, he said this:” Maxwell cleared his throat before speaking his memory of the charlatan’s words. “‘Even if that fortune teller pinned me right as a man who’s supposed to go out live the way I do, I should’ve damn well known better to see that all I did was fulfill her prophecy for her.’” Then he regarded Amanda with a more direct gaze as the two came to a halt at the corner of a three way intersection. “In essence, <em> he </em>was the one who conjured up his own leash. If he’d just done as he felt he wanted to, as he needed to in truth, then he’d have likely been far and away from that war-torn road, doing honest work rather than being covered in symbols he knew nothin’ about.” The two fell quiet then for a short few moments. He’d let Amanda parse out the meaning. </p><p> </p><p>The flamingo haired witch took her time with them. She chewed on the words as much as she did the inside of her gums, and eventually came up with a response as she started off down the leftward path, on toward the town square. “So about Jehanne then…. Maybe what she said was right, but….” Her train of thought was briefly derailed by a group of passersbys, witches and locals, who parted the two hunters from another for a short moment. Amanda resumed when the crowd had passed. “But ain’t nothing gonna happen the way she says it is unless I end up making it happen that way.”</p><p> </p><p>Maxwell nodded appreciably, proudly, softly. “Aye. We become prophecies; we let archetypes become us. We never choose to become them.” His eyes drifted up toward the now full moon as he went on. “People are far too complex to ever become <em> just </em> what we predict them to be. There’s always something more, something we didn’t expect out of the world; out of ourselves and each other….” A dash of melancholy made its way into Maxwell’s tone. “If Asgall were here, he’d no doubt say it best, bein’ he’s been a man, a monster, and then a man again, all in one lifetime.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda puffed up her right cheek and let it deflate with ease. “Yeah… I do kinda miss him.” Even if he was far older and dustier than Maxwell. “But either way, I think I get what you’re trying to say. Hell, me and Conz even mentioned it before we even got to the Balefire; back when you were just a weird old dude who picked us up in his truck.” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh?” Maxwell’s lamenting fell away quickly. Curiosity took hold as he raised a brow and quirked his head. “And what did you say back then?”</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t say this <em> exactly </em>, buuuut….” The times spent at that gas station, at Winnie’s home, they poured back into the forefront of Amanda’s memory. “I really resented all of this destiny-like bullshit.” She jostled her arms and shoulders a bit to adjust the luggage she was carrying about. “And I wasn’t the only one. Conz has been suspicious of how convenient everything’s been as far as the Nine Olde Witches and stuff goes.” Maxwell hummed thoughtfully, even a bit pensively, as he listened. “But she’s worried for different reasons; I’ll let her speak for herself some other time…. What pissed me off though was… well, it felt like my future was already decided for me.” Another turn around the bend saw the duo nearing the town square, so they came to a natural halt by a recently repaired bench on an empty side-street. “First I’d get led along to that fire, then we’d end up in Porthcurno, you’d find us, or we find you, or whatever, and then… then we get roped up into your order.” She sounded pleased, but regretful all at once. Maxwell remained quiet. He would hear Amanda out to the end. “Hell, Vaal and Jehanne even did a weird little ritual for some crazy reason. You can’t tell me it doesn’t all seem a little sus.” Amanda sighed. “It all made me feel like I never really had a choice in all of this.” </p><p> </p><p>Silence followed, giving Maxwell a moment to speak. “And how does that measure up to what you’re thinking now?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda let her eyes drift down to Dyrnwyn, sheathed on her hip. She stared at it for a long while as Jehanne’s warnings rang in her ear, as Maxwell’s and Asgall’s lessons echoed deeper beyond them, and as Constanze’s commitments to comradery and sisterhood underlied them all. “Now?” Amanda set her broom aside, allowing it to lean against the bench. “Now I think I’m finally taking all of what you guys told me to heart….” Her right hand reached for the hilt of the famed blade, deftly and slowly as a gunslinger right before the clock struck noon. “I’ve always had the choice to walk away, but….” Maxwell began to smile. He thought he might see history unfold before his eyes yet again; Dyrnwyn would be drawn, burning rightly, for the first time in decades. “But I never did, did I?” Amanda glanced up in search of approval. </p><p> </p><p>She found it in spades within Maxwell’s proud gaze. “Go on,” He gave a nod, “Let’s see that fire of yours burn.”</p><p> </p><p>And received one in turn. “Here goes nothing then.” Amanda grasped the hilt firmly, almost too firmly; a death-grip of sorts. She inhaled and exhaled sharply, like a sprinter right before the start-gun went off. <em> “I may not need this sword to accept me….” </em> Her knuckles tensed, her stance was rigid. Amanda jostled the blade once for good measure, <em> “But Jehanne knows damn well how much I want it to!” </em> and then she swiftly drew the sword in one fell motion! And then…! Nothing. It was just a blade, gleaming and terribly sharp, yes, adorned as any sword of olde might be, yes, but…. “Uhhhh….” Amanda blinked thrice. She waved the sword around carefully, as if any wrong motion could cause it to crumble. “Maxy?” </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell didn’t have any answers. He had nearly dropped his cane as hard as he dropped his gleeful grin. “Yes…?”</p><p> </p><p>“Why isn’t it on fire?” And if it wasn’t <em> supposed </em> to catch fire, why wasn’t Amanda herself on fire?</p><p> </p><p>“You’re… you’re certain that Constanze reforged it properly, yes?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, fucking duh!” Amanda’s sword wielding hand went a little limp at the wrist. She put her other hand on her hip and annoyedly shook Dyrnwyn like a flashlight with crappy batteries. “What the hell’s wrong with it! It could <em> at least </em> try to kill me like you said it would!” </p><p> </p><p>“P-Please don’t beg for your death.” Awkwardly cautioned Maxwell. </p><p> </p><p>“What I’m begging for is—!” Amanda went to try sheathing and unsheathing it over and over again, but Maxwell stopped her.</p><p> </p><p>“Amanda, wait!”</p><p> </p><p>“What!?” The two locked eyes, and to Amanda’s surprise, Maxwell was smiling again. </p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t undo the safety-sheathe.” He pointed to a small section of the leather, now separated from the larger sheathing, about two inches long, embroidered with stitching along its edges to give it a more definite shape compared to the plainer majority of the scabbard. “Remember? You can wield the blade without risk so long as you don’t undo that final piece. It’s magically sealed for just such a purpose.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” Amanda pursed her lips and tensed her shoulders. “Yeah.” Her resigned tone spoke volumes of her self awareness. Thus, she was quick to get on defense. “Look, I never said I was the smartest witch!” But all Maxwell could do in the face of such absurd bravado was laugh and wheeze. “O-Oi! It’s not funny, asshole!” Yes it was. “Man…!” Amanda tried to distance herself from Maxwell, but a firm clap on the back stopped her quick. She groaned heavily before devolving into chuckling herself. “And here I was trying to look cool!” </p><p> </p><p>“Ahhh…! Haha!” It took a moment for Maxwell to get his shit together, but he got there. “Haah. Then maybe you should <em> stop </em> trying to look cool and <em> start </em> trying to be the hunter you said you’d be about a week ago!” A friendly jostle and shake set the two right as Maxwell stepped away to give the hunter-to-be space. “So go on then! Undo the seal!”</p><p> </p><p>“I would,” Amanda smirked dumbly, intentionally. “If I damn well knew how!” She held Dyrnwyn along at an angle; one hand by the tip, one holding the handle. “Got any hints?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s simple really: Fire.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fire?”</p><p> </p><p>“Spark a flame. You’ll burn off the seal.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda nodded along, exaggerating her head bobbing to look dopey. “Oh, yeah, sure, let’s lock the thing  who’s big special power is that it catches on fire behind a lock that opens <em> with </em> fire! We’re really original and secretive here at the Balefire!”</p><p> </p><p>“Ohh!” Maxwell waved his staff like he was ready to have at Amanda with a flyswatter, all while holding back more laughter. “Quit gabbing and get on with it, Amanda!” </p><p> </p><p>“Alright, alright!” Amanda took a deep breath starting from her chest, venting all the mirth out of her system so she could get serious again. “For real this time!” Maxwell nodded, sighed, and did the same to get his own humors in order. The stage was set again; Amanda held Dyrnwyn by the hilt in one hand, and put her free hand along the two inch section of sheathing that held the magical seal. “Just a spark then eh?” Maxwell nodded. “Alright: Here goes.” A cold wind blew in over the two. Neither acknowledged it, but Amanda couldn’t help but wait a few moments more before she channelled her magicks down into her fingertips. Heat rose with the faintest yet warmest of glows. Her palms became bright like the flame around coals, but the flame was controlled, calm, like the glowing of a heat lamp. A few quiet moments passed where neither hunter blinked before Amanda let her flame die out. The seal had been undone; Amanda could feel the grip of the safety-sheathe loosen. It was time. </p><p> </p><p>Slowly, gently, with a care perhaps unbefitting of the firebrand hunter, clad in her punkish attire, hair spiked and styled like a rave-goer as it always was, Amanda ran the safety-sheathe along Dyrnwyn’s blade, starting at the base where it met the hilt, and up toward the tip. For every inch it slipped past, new embers began to spark. Each portion of the blade, as the sheathe moved along it, began to catch fire! It was as though the sheath was <em> hiding </em> the flame rather than snuffing it! An enchantment of invisibility, intangibility, which hid the flames from the unworthy; those who didn’t have the resolve, the just cause, or the honesty to wield the blade!  Or maybe it was a catalyst! Maybe the sheathe acted like a match grinding on the sulphuric blade, sparking it as the former was dragged along the matter! Whatever the reason, Dyrnwyn, the burning blade, was beginning to come to life; to light! The eyes of the hunters young and old were bedazzled, bewitched even! Amanda’s arm began to act on its own as she drew the sheathe about half-way off of the blade; she couldn’t believe it! She was worthy! She was accepted! She was—!</p><p> </p><p>Burning. Burning lashes, fiery whips like tendrils and vines gone vicious! They were striking out at Amanda’s wrist from Dyrnwyn’s hilt! Amanda stumbled back, gritting her teeth, and Maxwell gasped in horror. The fire shot up Amanda’s arm, starting at the cuff of her jacket, and threatening to go further. The blade had judged her—</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Murowa!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Clang! Klack-kack! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The fire subsided entirely. Amanda’s arm felt hot as hell, and her jacket showed signs of being slightly singed, but Amanda herself was frozen in place, her eyes cast down at her arm and the disarmed blade before her with terror. All that she could hear was heavy breathing; Maxwell’s heavy breathing. He’d intervened with her trial by fire by firing off a low powered blast at her right hand; the one that held Dyrnwyn by its hilt. His staff was bent forward, and he gripped it just as tightly as Amanda first did with Dyrnwyn. “Are you alright, Amanda?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda almost didn’t have anything to say, but the words lept off of her lips. “What… what did you…? How did it stop—?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know.” Maxwell shook his head. “But I wasn’t about to just let you burn. The blades judgement be damned: You’re too important to lose right now.” So it seemed that Dyrnwyn’s boon, or its curse in this case, could only take full effect if one drew the blade in its entirety. “We should count ourselves lucky.”</p><p> </p><p>“Lucky!?” Amanda’s terror turned to anger in an instant. “It almost…! I—!” She was furious, at Dyrnwyn for judging her so harshly after such an arduous and transformative journey, at Maxwell for stopping what would have possibly been her death, but above all, at herself for still being unworthy. <em> “I’m not ready for it….” </em> She didn’t even seem surprised. Maybe she should have known all along that she was <em> unworthy </em>. </p><p> </p><p>“No, Amanda, no!” Amanda may have kept her laments to herself, but Maxwell was perceptive enough to see through her slumping posture and sulking expression. “It’s not a matter of readiness,” Maxwell fumbled to reach for the sheathe and fixed up Dyrnwyn, placing the safety back over it, and resealing it with a spell that seemed to suck the heat out of the leather piece. “It’s a matter of acceptance.” He handed it back to her. “You know in your heart that you’ll be worthy one day,” She didn’t accept it at first, but a shoving gesture forced her to. “So come now!” Maxwell urged her, his tone seeming upset, but his main concern being the shattering of Amanda’s hope. “This isn’t the be all or end all of your quest. We’ve a battle to win, and it’ll be won with or without Dyrfnwyn’s flame!” It had to be; they had no other choice. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda, who resented lacking choice more than almost anyone, had to accept that fact. She did so with the spiteful dismissiveness that characterized her first meeting with Maxwell: Annoyed, terse statements, “I know.” Sharp, rushed movements, the blade sheathed in full. “Let’s just get this meeting over with, ok?” And impatience for all else around her; she didn’t even notice that her hands were unburnt, and that her jacket was hardly marred, as if the flames had never attacked her to begin with.</p><p> </p><p>Maxwell frowned deeply, and sighed deeper. “Very well.” Maxwell didn’t notice the detail either. He cleared his throat and fixed his posture along with his staff. “Just be sure you’ve a clear head during the meeting. I don’t want you fretting over this while we talk strategy.” </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be fine.” Amanda chided herself more than her older companion with those words as she turned about, collected her broom, “Let’s… let’s just forget this happened, ok?” And marched off toward the town square, burying her frustration beneath her weariness; not wanting to feel angry, not wanting to have even bothered with trying, really.</p><p> </p><p>Maxwell wiped his forehead. <em> “If that’s what you want….” </em> He couldn’t muster the words past his mind; he was a bit too deflated for that, fearing his tone might spark an argument. He was left standing by the bench alone for a moment more before he started after her, doing his best to catch up with the younger hunter’s brisk pace. He didn’t want to brush this off like Amanda demanded he did, but he had no choice either. Stubbornness would get neither of them anywhere good. <em> “There’s still time though.” </em> Maxwell tried to stay hopeful, and succeeded, but doubt now lingered in the air around Amanda like a vapor. <em> “Even in the thick of battle…. Maybe there she’ll find the strength to see her own version of destiny realized.” </em></p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> About an hour and a half later…. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The convocation was in full swing. In truth, as Amanda implied, it really was just a meeting, but Maxwell <em> insisted </em> that this open-air gathering be conducted as close to the Balefire’s traditions as possible. Of course, Amanda’s simmering emotions seemed like something that would get in the way of that, but to Maxwell’s surprise, she was all too quick to welcome the distraction from what she felt was a horribly embarrassing moment on her part. The result was what Maxwell had hoped for; bittersweet as it was given the driving force behind Amanda’s enthusiasm: A ceremony of sorts to start things off. </p><p> </p><p>It went by briskly, but not without importance. It was a solemn affair that began with the lighting of four sconces, one at each corner of the long-table that was situated before the central tree of the town’s square. Maxwell lit each on his own while Constanze and Amanda followed close behind. Neither of them were the stuffy sorts to go through with rituals like this, but they were able to muster up the right amount of stoicism, if only out of respect for Maxwell. Their part to play was simple anyhow, and thus they didn’t have to ham it up much at all. They carried two fangs each, fangs ripped from a vampire a long, long time ago; affects that Maxwell had brought along with him from the Balefire of Caledonia’s storages. The hunter and smith both placed one fang in each since as it was lit, as was tradition, for this was their hunt as much as it was Maxwell’s, and their prey, their true enemies in this, were not the monsters, Fae, or men enslaved or willingly in service to the Bathorys, but the Bathorys themselves. </p><p> </p><p>Thus were the fangs of their kind offered in the ritual, and despite the seeming naturalness of the fire, within moments the flames flared to such high intensities that they turned from orange to blue upon contact with the bony fragments. Those same fragments, now engulfed in the plasma-like torches, were singed to ashes in moments, and heralded aloft by careful winds conjured up from Amanda’s wand. In the meantime, Maxwell closed off the ceremony with a short recitation of oaths and litanies that befit a priest-like sermon, though his gods were mortal and Nine in number, with two as prime patrons above the rest. </p><p> </p><p>He spoke a tongue none understood, the language of Scots being a near dead thing, ground to dust by time and imperial efforts on behalf of the English Crown, but not yet gone in its entirety. Amanda assumed it was just magical-speak, but Lotte, from her admittedly hard-hearing position in the larger crowds surrounding the table rather than having a seat at it directly, recognized the language for what it was. She knew seldom of the Balefire, the order, it wasn’t her place necessarily to ask, not that any would have turned her questions away, but what she did know, accompanied by the Scots words, said with solemn reverence and steel-thick resolve on Maxwell’s part, was that the order was much like the language. Dying, fading. Its circumstances of death were no doubt different, but perhaps they weren’t <em> too </em> different. History was a fickle and endlessly complex thing, and just like the bodies of that old Anglo-Saxon mound the triumvirate witches found themselves in naught but a few days ago, there were so many aspects of those histories that could never speak for themselves. The causes had long since become hidden, obscured, lost, and in the worst of cases, erased, all while the effect irrevocably remained in the present, an equally elusive, but far more frustrating fact of life. The thought humbled Lotte even more than the initial sight of those ancient bodies did, all while further disquieting her disturbed sense of safety ever since Ludinghal. </p><p> </p><p>Quiet thoughtfulness and crippling uncertainty aside, the meeting went on as usual after Maxwell finished up his ritual a minute later. It was primarily a discussion between leaders of the covens and groupings who’d shown interest in attending the meeting. Their goal here was to refine the stratagems and final touches of this would-be counter-offensive. Some of the notable folks were as follows:</p><p> </p><p>The Matron Sorceress of The Sisters of Starfall was there, her attire, a full body robe with a stringy veil with glowing yellow and white beads upon them, was covered in scintillating glimmers within and without, all comprised of what looked like sea-salt rocks given the gleaming and reflective quality of diamonds. She was of indeterminate age, for the veil and all of the distracting lights that reflected off of her made her impossible to behold in her entirety, and that was while she was standing in the shadows. In the light, she was a walking flashbang, and often attended by trusted sisters of the coven who would carry  enchanted, hand made umbrellas to shield her from unwanted brightness with unnaturally deep and thick shadows. Those same attendants were present with her now, though the darkness of night, and the shade provided by the tree that sat at the center of the town square, spared everyone’s retinas, though it didn’t spare her from the cold.</p><p> </p><p>Directly beside The Matron and her attendants, to their and his own dismay, stood the three eyed, three horned Warlock Superior of The Trinity of Horns, a burly and hairy armed man who’s hard stare far surpassed Maxwell’s typical hardness. The third eye helped of course, but it was his ruggedness that gave the man an even grittier exterior, though he appeared to only be just about thirty. He too wore a traditional outfit, despite the weather and season suggesting something thicker. It was a two piece white outfit, somewhat loose fitting, with a red and black vest overtop, lined with metallic buttons whose surfaces reflected the engravings that seemed to change and metamorph depending on the angle they were seen from. His posture was closed, arms about his chest, and he was cleanly shaven. Of course, the third eye and the horns stuck out to anyone, but while they appeared to be a natural piece of his body, they were in fact just illusions. Not the kind a witch like Ibrahim would conjure up, no, these were physical; more in the vein of Akko’s metamorphosis magic, except The Warlock Superior had to maintain these transformations at <em> all </em> times; no exceptions. The horns themselves were a trifecta of goat horns, bending back in even curves; one on the left of his forehead, one on the right, and one in the center. His third eye meanwhile, or his “evil eye,” as the Trinity referred to it, was a mesmerizing orb embedded in the center of his forehead. It seemed to have a mind and will of its own, and its pupils were extremely large, as if always in a state of hyperfocus. </p><p> </p><p>Next to him stood another man, even younger, maybe twenty four or three; Amanda, Constanze, and Lotte’s age. He was probably the <em> least </em> professionally or ceremonially dressed of the crew, and that included Amanda herself, and that was because he “represented” the football hooligans (the good kind) from Chester, England. He dressed like you might or might not expect, in a heavy winter jacket representing his university football team, marked by a queer patch on his left shoulder bearing a crude arcane stitchwork-sigil, the symbol os his informal coven of rowdy british bullies (again, the good kind.) He carried no wand, but a cricket bat instead, for it worked just as well for both purposes, and his appearance was rough, not just in terms of his peachy fuzz shave and messy blonde hairs, but also because of a few cuts and scars about his face. He was looker alright, and he’d been a looker before he got into a few close encounters with the Bathory’s enslaved minions and monsters around and within Porthcurno. This was just another “tour of duty” for a man like this one, a guy who got into fights with the worst type of bastards not just because it was right to kick their sorry asses out of town, but because he had a helluva fun time doing it. He called himself Beck. Just Beck. It’s all he needed, that and his bat. </p><p> </p><p>Beside him then stood Constanze, dressed in the deep, dark blue coat she’d come to love over these past weeks. Her face was greasy, blotched with black spots, and she wore worn workman's gloves, having never stopped working ever since she left that office three days ago. Outside of sleeping of course, though eating and drinking were things that Lotte had to repeatedly remind the witch-smith to do. The last details of import were her hammer, which, in all its mithril glory, was strapped firmly to the front right of her belt alongside several other tools. Finally, behind her sat a long rectangular box about six feet in length, its contents a surprise and mystery to all but Constanze. </p><p> </p><p>Next to her stood Maxwell, at the head of the long table, garbed just as he was when meeting Amanda, though his hood was thrown up now. Speaking of Amanda, she was on Maxwell’s right, leaned over the table with her hands flat down on the table and spread apart, her eyes cast on the map of the southern shoreline, and the other map set beside it that more specifically detailed the Isle of Luna Nova. </p><p> </p><p>Last but not least, Harper, the Londoner that Maxwell convinced to meet him here, stood at the table as a “representative” of the “hedge witches;” witches who came alone, in tiny groups of friends, common folk witches, barely any different, if at all, when compared to the local Porthcurnites. They had no former allegiances, ties, or purpose for being here beyond the call to save one of the last public vestiges of witchery from the merciless world around them, and whatever personal emotions drove them to take up their wands against the Bathorys. Harper was at the table to speak for those persons, having been chosen for the task due to her sharp but down to earth sensibilities, and her natural inclination to lead even amidst the seeming chaos of the situation. Needless to say, she’d proven herself well enough to many of the hedge witches over the past week. She could be trusted to ensure the general concerns of the many were not overshadowed. </p><p> </p><p>“So that’s the full count then?” Asked the Warlock Superior gruffly, his hands pointing down at a small paper that had been passed over to his side. “Four hundred or so witches, Fae, and men strong?” The discussion had been going on for about twenty minutes or so, mostly dealing with logistical issues that needed to be cleared up before any <em> real </em> planning could be done. </p><p> </p><p>“Aye, the count’s accurate.” Maxwell assured his Croatian comrade with a wrap of his staff against the cobbled road that supported their meeting. </p><p> </p><p>The Warlock Superior’s eyes, the two human ones, were focused on the page for a long few moments. He hummed and grumbled out estimations in his head, none of them looking good, while his evil eye kept an unblinking watch on Maxwell. “Mmmm…. And what about <em> their </em> numbers?”</p><p> </p><p>“Uncounted.” The wispy voice of The Matron Sorceress clattered her veil of beads and stone like the sea breeze would a wind chime. “The cosmos reveal little, and their storm of magic runs afoul of our powers to see beyond our eyes.” Her attendants looked to Constanze and Amanda, as if using their eyes on behalf of the Matron, who remained deathly still, as if any impromptu motion could shatter her dress of mirroring stones into dust. “Might you have the answer?”</p><p> </p><p>The sisters looked to one another, wordlessly exchanging estimations and ideas. In the end, Constanze for the two of them, in voice rather than written word. “The threat each of their units poses is variable. Too variable.” Constanze used her wand to point out various spots on the map of Luna Nova. “A hydra nearly killed us as we escaped. There were frost giants. Zombies. Harpies. Were-bats. Anything you can think of, they probably have at least one of them.” She drew a circle with magical dust around the area where she roughly assumed the dome to be. “Not sure if a direct count will be useful because of that. But, we know that a large chunk of them are trapped in time.” </p><p> </p><p>“Got any percentages?” Asked Harper casually. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm….” The visual calculus was hard to do given that it had been about two weeks since the inciting incident. “Mostly their enthralled soldiers…. Not as many vampires.” Not exactly what harper was looking for, but an important detail nonetheless. “Until we break down the dome, it’ll mostly be us versus their knights.” </p><p> </p><p>“Hrmm….” The Warlock Superior set aside the paper and leaned his right arm against the table, leaning in to hone all of his three eyes on Constanze. “What makes you so sure of that?” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda jumped in then, speaking with a dry hint of sarcasm. “Those creeps are too damn prideful to send their best to deal with what should’ve been an easy job.” Part of her bristled at the idea of calling Luna Nova an “easy job,” but the point stood. “For every vampire we saw down there, there was probably twenty poor Fae and monsters who were there to do bulk of the dirty work for them.”</p><p> </p><p>“Figures!” Beck habitually, almost ritualistically, rapped his nail riddled and chipped cricket back against his free hand’s palm as he spoke. “The boys and I’ve only seen all the poor sods they’ve got mindfucked causin’ problems! Not a single biter since we got ‘ere!” He was just itchin’ for bloodsucker skulls to crack, so much so that he could barely contain his thunderous energy from spilling out into every word he barked. In short, Beck didn’t know the meaning of the words “civil discussion.” </p><p> </p><p>“I thought that the attacks seemed weird.” Said Harper partially toward Amanda. “But I guess it makes sense if these vampires are as arrogant as you’re saying they are.” </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell pointed toward the coastline around Porthcurno on the larger scale map. “And that means they’ll be able to match us in the air.” He sounded displeased with this fact; he’d prefer to deal with the enthralled first, and the bulk of the vampire forces later. “If not overpower us entirely.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze cut in. “Just need a sound strategy. Tactics trump strength.” </p><p> </p><p>“To a point,” Cautioned The Warlock Superior. “A very fine and sharp one that’s just as likely to gut us as it is them.” </p><p> </p><p>“Though I often disagree with our three eyed friend here…” The Matron Sorceress’s left hand slipped out from behind her glimmering cloak like a ghostly projection piercing directly through a wall. She gestured with it smoothly, signalling her acquiescence. “He is right to point out how severely this deck is stacked against us.” </p><p> </p><p>Harper couldn’t help but feel fearful for all this as well. “And if they can match our numbers then that takes away just about all of the advantages we got over them. They’re trained fighters, armed to the teeth,” No pun intended. “And they’re position is way easier to defend compared to what we’ve built up here.” </p><p> </p><p>“But can’t wait anymore!” Retorted Beck. “We’ve waited long enough, and we’re hardly bettah off compared to where was a few days ago!” </p><p> </p><p>“Sadly, Beck is right.” Maxwell sighed. “We got word over the radio again; come tomorrow at noon, there’ll be no less than three vessels circling Luna Isle. We’ll have no easy way of approaching the island at that point, unless you want to contend with armed navies.” </p><p> </p><p>“So it's do or die time then, yeah?” Amanda gave each of the others at the table a passing glance, measuring their acceptance of that less than comforting fact. “Then we better think hard and think fast. We’ve got the rest of tonight and tomorrow morning to take back the academy, and even <em> that </em> might be cuttin’ it too damn close!” </p><p> </p><p>“Ye! Let’s just get in there already and crack their skulls like melons!” Beck’s battle cry earned an encouraging series of whoops and hollers from his band of bastards. “Fuck it! I’ll even lead the charge! We could go right now!” </p><p> </p><p>“Now, now! Settle down you lot!” Maxwell waved his staff about with a tinge of elderly annoyance, calming the rowdier elements of the crowd. “We’re dealing with our own lives here, and the lives of every witch and Fae who’s caught up in this mess at the academy.” Stark reminders of mortality went a long way to cow the adventurous intuition of some, but it also discouraged others. </p><p> </p><p>Harped piped up with a similar sentiment, “We can’t afford to go in wands blazing. Even if we came out victorious, how many of you would come out of it alive?” Though she was quick to offer an alternative to rally behind. “So instead we should try and opt for a sneakier approach. The longer we can stall the head to head fight while making’ progress toward undoing the time-bubble, the better.” Agreeable nods and murmurs rumbled around the central table. </p><p> </p><p>“How would we go about that? They can see clearly at night, they’ve got cover from the sun during the day thanks to that wretched storm, and we’ll have nothing to hide us no matter which angle we attack from.” The Warlock superior stood up, extending his arms out to his side and looking about as if to beseech the crowd for answers. “The island was <em> meant </em> to be unassailable! It’s why the second headmistress discharged it from the mainland!” Just as the great witch hunts were taking hold, back during the final years of the Arcturian Schism.. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze grumbled to herself in her head. <em> “That contingency certainly backfired.” </em>Annoyance at historical events aside, she spoke her more topical ideas aloud. “Doesn’t matter if they see us. If we approach during the day, they won’t be able to meet us far from the island. ” Without the storm’s coverage, the sun would incinerate their knights. </p><p> </p><p>“It takes roughly half an hour to cross the water by broom at a normal pace.” Said the Matron Sorceress as she carefully shook her head so as to not make a single noise. </p><p> </p><p>“Already taken care of.” Constanze’s snappy response earned a few curious comments and murmurs. Brows were raised all around the table, especially as she went for the large metal case that she’d left behind her. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda was hardly surprised though. She’d heard a bit about what her sister was working on. “Oh, you guys are gonna <em> love </em> this.” Finally, she had another reason to smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Mhm.” Constanze kept a muted expression, though she couldn’t deny the pride she felt as the many eyes of her compatriots fixated upon her. She reached her hands out and undid each latch-lock carefully, creating a satisfyingly thick and chunky <em> “Click!” </em>for each undone mechanism. The case was open then and spun about with a simple flick of Constanze’s wand, revealing to all the experimental broom held within. “We’ll use these instead. They’re faster, sturdier. Made for combat.” It was a most useful invention indeed: A broom, originally mundane, repurposed for combat with a specialization in speed and rider stability. It was about five to six feet long, not including the carefully kept hairs of strange origin, spoked with two handlebars near the front, a molded bike-seat turned saddle, and a pike-like speartip on the very front of the broom. “Gave it a few test runs myself. Works well for what we’re aiming for. In and out lightning strikes. Extra control from the handlebars and straps on the saddle for safer mobility.” Constanze levitated the broom up into the air, slowly spinning it about so everyone could take in the finer details. “Strapping in makes high risk air maneuvers safer. Need to leverage our weight advantage. Bathory’s rely on pegasi. They’re fast, but not on the turn.” She pointed her wand at the hairs of the broom.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda could barely withhold her grin. “Music to my fuckin’ ears.” Any excuse to fly like a cocksure ace was a good one in her book. </p><p> </p><p>“What’s wrong with the ‘airs on that though?!” Beck wagged his bat at the spiky, almost needle like protrusions that jutted out from the back end. “And why the big spike on the front?” Not that he was complaining.</p><p> </p><p>“Enchanted wood and metal. Durable enough to resist heavy impact.” Constanze oriented the broom to point the spiked end skyward. “We’re harder targets compared to the knights, and they’ll want to get in close. Turns a head on charge in our favor.” Simple, deadly, and easy to reproduce.  Now for the hairs. “See here:” Constanze flipped the broom upside down. Now the haired end was pointing up. “Partially straw. Typical stuff.” Careful examination revealed that only the top half of the strands were as such; the ones by the end of the broom. Further downward, the composition changed into something more rough in texture; earthy even. “Arcane Alkali compound. Sodium and Pyrocine base. S-P2. Burns slow, but packs a punch.” Pyrocine was a somewhat uncommon mineral to find, typically only found in the wake of Pyre Elemental’s destructive paths, but with witch-smith enginuity, alchemical methods, and the combined efforts of many helpful witches and Fae, Constanze was able to procure a hefty load of the stuff. “Ignite it with an incant:'' Which she deigned to write rather than speak for fear of unintentionally blasting her presentation half way across town. <em> “Tia Inferna.” </em>More intrigued and pleased comments rang out amongst the onlookers. “And you’ll be faster than anything they can throw at us. Guaranteed.” </p><p> </p><p>Even Amanda seemed a bit impressed, and even skeptical. “Oi, oi, wouldn’t that burn off your hairs eventually?” The hairs were, for reasons that Jehanne herself likely only knew, essential for broom-flight. “How do you keep flying after that?” Amanda was still ecstatic about it of course; her grin said it all.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze set the broom down gently as she explained. “Best to use in controlled bursts.” It landed in her hands, and with a finger, she marked the point where the arcane compound and straw blended. “Once you run out of S-P2 to burn, you’ll lose overall speed. Not as many hairs to keep you flying. It isn’t meant for drawn out engagements.”</p><p> </p><p>“But it’s perfect for what we’re going for.” Maxwell nodded firmly. </p><p> </p><p>“Mhm.” Constanze afforded herself a moment to smile. “I call it a Firefly Mark I.” Or just “Firefly” for those who weren’t extreme nerds. </p><p> </p><p>“One broom does not make an arsenal.” Quipped The Matron. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmmmm.” Constanze set the broom back in the case and locked it up. “They’re simple enough to make, but we ran out of S-P2. I was able to manufacture about two hundred of them.” Though The Matron Sorceress’ expression was obscured, she was clearly impressed. “Not enough for everyone, but it’s what I could pull together.” She said it as though it were easy, despite all the basic reminders Lotte had to give her, and the droning, ceaseless pace of her work that began within minutes of her awakening, and ended only when her body gave way to exhaustion. It was painful business, but worth the effort. </p><p> </p><p>“Hmmph.” The Warlock Superior put his fists to his waist and summoned up something of a critical, but approving gaze. “I can’t say I expected much out of you and your dwindling flame…. But the problem still stands: We’ll surely be spotted no matter how fast we approach them.” He brought his own wand to bear, a thick rod covered in careful stitching that was ingrained into the wand itself, blurring the line between wood and wool, leaving a pattern of browns, reds, whites, blacks, and yellows forming diamonds that felt artificial, and natural all at once. With it, he drew a careful series of three-pronged lines, two of which curved out from Porthcurno, while one went dead ahead, all meeting at Luna Isle. “Even if we properly encircle the island with those brooms of yours, they’ll have ample time to prepare.” He then drew a circle on the inner portion of the island. They will undoubtedly form a screen if it's during the day, making any head on assault suicidal….” he put his wand back in his pockets then, offering a scanning, yet ever critical gaze across the horizon of his vision. “And if we attack at night, they’ll have no qualms in stopping us dead above the water, and we don’t have enough Firefly’s to slip a sizable enough force past them with speed alone.” His human eyes read the crowd from left to right, while his evil eye read it from right to left. </p><p> </p><p>As the crowds and folks at the table started chatting a bit, tossing about critiques and suggestions, none of which stuck much, Amanda got thinking. She shut out the other noises as best she could, and conjured up all sorts of different battle scenarios in her head. She was no tactician, but she quickly realized something that hadn’t been considered: The weather. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Yeah…. Yeah, that could work!” </em> Amanda bit her lower lips before she spoke up over the chatter. “Oi, oi! I got an idea!” Her excited call for attention caused a sudden silence. “All we need is a good, thick fog.” Lightbulbs shot up progressively across everyone’s heads. Amanda smirked. “Here’s the deal: We get a fake fog brewing up by the docks. We mount up with every witch who’s coming while leavin’ behind a group to protect the town. We take off and move about halfway up to the island before we all light up our brooms and <em> blitz </em> the sons of bitches.” She punched her right fist into her left palm at the word “blitz.” </p><p> </p><p>Harper seemed on board, but: “I thought we agreed the whole ‘straight on charge’ maneuver was suicide? Hardly any of us are trained to fight proper.”</p><p> </p><p>“And we’ll want to consider an evacuation plan.” Chimed The Matron Sorceress. “With so wounded and vulnerable people to account for on the island already, we’ll struggle greatly to wage an offensive while protecting the students.” </p><p> </p><p>“THAT!” Yelled a forty something year old bloke from the crowd. “IS WHERE I COME IN!” His yells were as blunt and boorish as his unyielding scooting and shimmying through the crowd. Despite his lack of grace, he had a certain candor and cadence about him that just spoke to a constant smile and playful casualness. That clashed horribly with his outfit, which was, to put it as bluntly as his footfalls, a really shitty “sea-captain’s” outfit. His cap was moth eaten, his jacket was crusty at the lips and edges, showing signs of water damage, and his jack-boots squeaked like the devil’s rubber duck. Anyone who knew the man sighed, while everyone who was blissfully ignorant, and simultaneously missing out, felt their jaw’s slacken just a bit as they reckoned with the claims of what looked like a drunk. </p><p> </p><p>“Benjy…?” Amanda and Constanze said his name in equally woeful and hopeful unison.</p><p> </p><p>“In the flesh!” Benjamin the fisherman, stout and strange as he was, mozzied up to the planning table with the unchallenged moxie. He just looked so damn proud and cocksure of himself despite how ridiculous he looked at first blush. “I got a boat!” That was it. That was all he said to explain his audacious claims. </p><p> </p><p>“A boat?” Asked Amanda flatly. </p><p> </p><p>Benjy nodded. “Yeah! It’s a boat!” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze had to resort to pen and paper for this: “What kind of boat?”</p><p> </p><p>“A big one!” His dumb grin only got dumber, and less self aware. </p><p> </p><p>“Really big?” Foolishly asked Beck.</p><p> </p><p>“Uhh….” Benjamin scratched his stubbly. “Eh, you know, it’s <em> pretty </em> big, and pretty pretty if you know what I mean, but it’s not <em> thaaaat </em> big.”</p><p> </p><p>“But what is it for…?” Now the Matron Sorceress was getting wrapped up in asking not-direct-enough questions. </p><p> </p><p>“For carrying folks, of course!” And fishing, because Benjamin was a fisherman. </p><p> </p><p>The Warlock Superior’s eyes glazed over. “As in… the injured? The students?” Finally someone got to the heart of the matter, prompting Benjamin to give a hearty thumbs up. “You could have just <em> said that </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>Benjy’s innocently stupid smile faltered into an even more innocent frown. “Well, I kinda thought it was obvious, y’know. I didn’t wanna come off as if I thought you lot were stupid or nothing.” </p><p> </p><p>The Warlock Superior had a right mind to turn Benjamin into a turtle for being a waste of everyone’s precious time, but Maxwell was deft and quick enough with his words to get the meeting back on track. “So! This boat of yours: We can use it during the battle to evacuate the students and wounded, yes?” </p><p> </p><p>Benjy bounced back as if he were made of rubber. “Aye! I fixed it up all by meself!” He jabbed a thumb at his own chest. “It’s a right proper vessel that can handle the worst this world’s got to throw at it!” Sea monsters notwithstanding. “I’ve got it moored up down by the docks near Swan Street. All she needs is a crew, and she’ll be ready for her re-maiden voyage.” </p><p> </p><p>“Good work, Benjamin, but… if I may, how do you intend for us to use a very slow and very vulnerable craft such as that during a hunt such as this?” Maxwell uneasily tensed and untensed his knuckles, hoping the man had a good answer, because they were severely lacking for evac options outside of this. </p><p> </p><p>“What? Because it's slow? Well…. Hm.” Benjy, with the nonchalant attitude of a sunday morning stroller, tapped at his chin and pondered up a solution. “So this whole three-pronged flank thing you have going on….” There hadn’t been any exact agreement on The Warlock Superior’s three pronged flank, but Benjamin decided for them, and in truth, most came around to the idea quickly; it made common strategic sense. “What if we acted like it was <em> actually </em> a two pronged attack?” But that just sounded mad. </p><p> </p><p>“Uhh…. Come again?” Amanda scratched the back of her head as she glanced toward Constanze for advice. All she got was a shrug. </p><p> </p><p>“So, hear me out:'' Benjamin squeezed in between The Matron and The Warlock, to their shared discomfort and annoyance, and stamped his pointer finger against the leftmost “wing” of the drawn out plans. “If we go with this three pronged approach of yours, me and my ship can take the westward route right ‘round the isle.” He drew his finger along the route, stopping on the southern tip of Luna Isle to tap it twice. “The old docks are there, and while they might not be in all too good’a shape, it’s better than tryn’a run my Whale a’ground.” </p><p> </p><p>“Your whale?” Constanze immediately regretted asking. </p><p> </p><p>“Ye!” Benjamin put his right fist to his heart and stared off to the sky beyond him. “The Whale o’ Wales! That’s her name!” His corny pride and pose almost necessitated a waving flag in the background. </p><p> </p><p>Beck, poor foolish Beck, thought a little too hard about the name. “So, is it a Waleowales? Or The Whale of Whales? Or the Wales of—” Luckily, Harper was there with her wand to quite literally zip his mouth shut. “Mmphhmhmhm!”</p><p> </p><p>“Can we <em> please </em> focus?” Harper’s pleading drew all attention back to her. “Thank you.” She sighed heavily and undid Beck’s zipper-curse before she pressed on with Benjamin’s plan. “Alright: So you’ll need to reach the southern end of the island, yes?” Benjy silently nodded, still looking all too proud of himself. “And we don’t have enough of those suped-up brooms of yours for everyone, right?” A snappy finger in Constanze’s direction earned Harper a second nod. “Then why don’t we outfit the first two groups,” She pushed her wand against the map, drawing a line down the center, and one down the eastern flank. “With Firefly’s while the third group acts as an escort.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ey! Great minds really do think alike!” Benjamin’s beaming expression of pride was as fatherly as could be, though Harper wasn’t exactly looking to have another dad. </p><p> </p><p>“Aheh, yeah…” Two was plenty.  “Thanks.” The gesture was worth a smile in return, at the least. </p><p> </p><p>Before everyone got comfortable with this plan though, Constanze saw a unique flaw in it. “It’d be a weaker flank. Too weak. Already hard to fight on a broom. It only gets harder when you add an objective to defend.” Murmurs of agreement and disagreement rumbled about the square. </p><p> </p><p>They all got quieter after Maxwell spoke up: “Not if we don’t reveal the flank.” The expression on his face spoke to gears turning, memories from decades past. </p><p> </p><p>“Care to explain yourself, Old Hunter?” The Warlock Superior cracked his fingers and knuckles one by one, like a pianist testing the keys of his instrument. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm….” Maxwell stroked at his beard, long and slow like. “It’s just that this reminds me of a hunt I was on back during the great war,” His usage of the word “great” was as bitingly venomous as viper fangs. “Back when I was a novice among my order.” He paused to get his thoughts in order, not wanting to get lost in the details of his storied past. “We were tasked with taking a small island off the coast of northern France. Something nasty had wrecked the place beyond all conventional approach after an Austrian boat capsized nearby.” The creature wasn’t exactly all too pleased about being kept in confinement during a rocky boat ride. “Long story short, we used a similar strategy of utilizing the fog as cover, going in a three pronged sort of approach.” Maxwell gestured down at the maps. “And, much like today, we had to transport some fragile cargo ashore,” The methods for quelling the beast weren’t as straightforward as anyone would have liked. “But it could swim and fly faster than any of us could, and it had a keen sense of smell and sight….” He highlighted the magical lines of the center and eastward flanks with silent magicks from his staff. “So we distracted it by having two of the three flanks break cover early enough to grab its attention, while the group that was moving the artifacts we needed kept quiet and stayed back.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda clicked her tongue. “Not a bad idea. Those freaks are nop doubt gonna sense that something’s up when a fog like that rolls in, so if we play our cards right and get them to focus on these parts,” She tapped at the highlighted flanks. “Then that’ll give Benjy a smooth path to the docks.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm.” Constanze swallowed back the natural nervousness that came with her speaking before a crowd. “Gives the witches who go with him a chance to secure the south. Bathory will be too focused on defending from the north. Leaves them blind from the rear.” </p><p> </p><p>“A capital plan!” Benjamin clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “Now all we’ve left to do is decide who’s goin’ where!” He chuckled slightly and set his palms flat against the table. “Eheh, I mean, besides me of course!” </p><p> </p><p>The Matron Sorceress scanned the faces at the table, and those beyond. “So long as we are all in agreement, yes, we should proceed to allotment.” Sure enough, one by one, each and every major player at the table nodded, thumbed up, grunted, or in Beck’s case, cheered in agreement, his gang of lads echoing his cry. “So it goes then.” The Matron fluidly removed her hood, revealing a bald but beautifully tattooed head beneath: She was of pale complexion, but much of her scalp and the backside of her head was covered in extremely detailed star charts featuring planets, the path of comets, dates marking the beginning and endings of novas far out and away in the cosmos. Her face on the other hand was left clear, but not of age, and her eyes were similarly without much color; just white-grey orbs that reflected all it perceived a infinitum, speaking to a form of sight that was well and truly alien; a blessing borne of her devotion to the craft. “I volunteer myself and my sisterhood to lead the charge on the eastward flank. We shall play our part as bait to provide the central cohort as much room as possible.” She regarded Constanze and Amanda specifically. “For it is you who we must rely upon to free the academy from its binds in time.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda swayed her head from left to right. “Ehhh, not <em> us </em> exactly, but….” She let her eyes wander to the crowd. Lucky for her, Lotte was easy to spot in her bright orange coast. “She can get us in there for sure.” Amanda pointed her Finnish friend out, bringing everyone to gaze upon her, causing no small amount of anxiety. It didn’t help Lotte’s awkwardness that the crowd started nudging her forward both physically and verbally, even if done with the best of intentions. When Lotte finally stumbled up to the table, Amanda continued. “She can talk to the spirit of the Hologarium and help us fix the whole time-stop problem. Me and Conz can worry about getting her close enough to do that.”</p><p> </p><p>“R-Right….” Lotte was far too nervous to be louder than a mouse, let alone speak any further. </p><p> </p><p>“Then we can inform Ibrahim and rally the defenders.” Continued Constanze. “Start funnelling survivors south. Benjy needs to be ready by then.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh I’ll be ready alright!” No one could tell if Benjamin was accustomed to battle, or he genuinely didn’t understand how dangerous this would. Both answers lead to terrifying implications. </p><p> </p><p>“Ready or not, me and my boys are riding down the center! No if’s and's or but’s about it! Ain’t that right lads!?” A roar of agreements spoke to Beck and his gang’s implacability.</p><p> </p><p>Not that Amanda would ever turn down a band of punks as rugged as she was. “So long as you’re good at crackin’ bloodsucker skulls,” Amanda reached her hand out to Beck, grinning a little deviously. “Then I wouldn’t want you anywhere else!” Beck returned the gesture in kind, earning another wave of cheers and shared shows of comradery from various sorts in the crowd. For how rough and tough the hooligans looked, they sure seemed eager to hug strangers like they were brothers. </p><p> </p><p>The others couldn’t help but smirk along as a wave of defiant optimism washed over the attendants. “If Beck will support the center, then I shall take my witches and warlocks westward.” The Warlock Superior even managed a pleased sort of expression; a fond rarity for him. “We’ll take charge of the evacuation effort. Our chimera-magicks suit us better to slower brooms as is.” Many of the Trinity didn’t use brooms at all for that matter. Sprouting wings is far easier. </p><p> </p><p>Harper took the stand then. “I’m not really sure where I should go; I’m not much of a leader the way you lot are.” She looked behind and around her as she continued. “But I’ll make sure that us hedge witches are ready to do whatever it takes to end this.” She’d see the magical masses roused when the final call for muster came. In the end, she knew that it mattered not where she or anyone else specifically went. It all came down to the effort of the many working as a whole. </p><p> </p><p> “Good, good,” That left only Maxwell to declare his intent, though his role was obvious. “Then I’ll oversee our efforts amidst the fray, and direct our forces where we need them. Just because our plan is solid doesn’t mean we won’t run into roadblocks.” Obvious a leader as he seemed, he spoke only in practical terms. It was a humble thing to be back in the saddle like this for a man of his age and nostalgia. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda retracted her hand and turned away from Beck to question Maxwell, seeing genuinely concerned. “You mean, you’re going up there with us? Like, into the thick of it?”</p><p> </p><p>Maxwell bristled in a way only a wizened old witch could. His nose wrinkled, his eyebrow arched, and his eyes grew hard as coal. “I may not be as spry as I used to be, but I’m not about to lead from behind!” The whiskers of his beard may as well have startled curling in on themselves. “I’m taking charge alongside you and Constanze like any hunter would and should.” Two wraps of his staff set the matter to bed. “And that’s that.” </p><p> </p><p>“Alright, alright!” Amanda threw her hands up flatly, smiling mutedly. “No need to get so defensive. Just tryn’a make sure you don’t do something stupid and get yourself killed.”</p><p> </p><p>‘Mmmhmm….” Constanze’s grunt said it all: <em> “Look who’s talking.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>“Wh—?” Amanda spun about and leered at her sister, because of course <em> she </em> understood what Constanze was saying with her noises. “Ever heard of do as I say, not as I do?”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze blew Amanda’s taunting off. “Argue later. Finalize plans now.” Objective minded as ever, she called the gathering to attention with a whistle. “We’re all in agreement. Everyone knows what they’re supposed to do. All we need is a time.” </p><p> </p><p>“Early morning.” Maxwell’s response came quicker than expected. “We’ll fight them when just when the dew is starting to settle, but long enough before it’s gotten bright that the Bathory’s think themselves safe from sunrise.”</p><p> </p><p>Harper chimed in, stroking her chin as she did so. “And that would mean they’d be more willing to meet us over the water….” Her eyes went from looking at the table to looking up at the sky. “If we time it right and hold our ground, we could burn up countless vampires!”</p><p> </p><p>“Aye,” Maxwell hummed solemnly. “It’ll also mean that we’ll have enough time to enact our assault before any mundane militaries get involved.” The crowds and table got a little quieter, more reflective. “We picked up a transmission detailing some sort of naval assault that’s planned for mid day tomorrow. The details are unclear, but it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that we’re already in agreement about how this needs to happen: We hit them hard, we hit them fast, and we save as many lives as possible.” A scan of the town square revealed tense but prepared expressions. “The twilight hours will let us do that best.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not only that,” Added The Matron Sorceress. “But the Bathory’s pride will demand they accept our charge, thus leaving the island itself relatively undefended.” Her hollow looking eyes fell upon Amanda, Constanze, and Lotte. “It will allow you three the perfect opportunity to slip away from the melee.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda crossed her arms and sighed. “I don’t really wanna leave you guys to do the heavy lifting….” And not just because she was eager to pay the Bathory’s back hand over fist. “But if it’s wha’ll win us the fight? Then you count on us to get by.” </p><p> </p><p>“Mhm.” Constanze put her hands on her hips. </p><p> </p><p>All was quiet for a moment then as everyone seemed to wait for Lotte’s response. “O-Oh! Um, right!” Malitrix even flashed her eyes once in agreement. </p><p> </p><p>“That means that we’re settled:” The Warlock Superior seemed to grow a few inches taller, kind of like how Asgall did, though without all the horrible bone creaking; a more natural looking sort of growth spurred on by latent metamorphic magicks. “All that’s left for us to do is rest and reflect. Make peace with your gods and your loved ones, because the bloodsucking menace will show you none!” A raised fist accompanied his final rallying cry addressed to his coven. “Tri Roga! Tri istine!” </p><p> </p><p>And the members of the Trinity replied: “Borba! Promjena! Trijumf!” </p><p> </p><p>The Sisters of Starfall weren’t about to be outdone in any regard by their  would-be rivals. “In Ionna’s name!” The Matron Sorceress called. </p><p> </p><p>“We follow the stars!” And the sisters answered.</p><p> </p><p>But that wasn’t all: Witches from all sorts of smaller covens were shouting their own chants, oaths, and calling cards as they raised their wands, staves, tomes of power, and foci to the sky. Constanze, Lotte, and Amanda’s eyes all darted around as the air about Porthcurno became heavy with the pride and tenacity of witches looking to defend what was theirs; an academy, a generation, a legacy of witching from centuries past that it might persist in centuries to come. Frararanca even managed to make herself known as she darted in from the rooftops as fast as she could, hindered by her wounded wings, but carried by a fire that spread from heart to heart. “And the Fae stand with you too!” In response, the goblins trolls, pixies, sylph, satyrs and other Fae who had heeded the Balefire’s call rang out in cheers, raising their own fists, claws, clubs and makeshift weapons upward, adding their own righteous fury to chorus of defiant voices. </p><p> </p><p>It left the triumvirate witches without breath. It was a sight they’d never seen before, but one that parts of them, conscious and unconscious, had always wanted to see: Witches from varying walks, mundane folks, and Fae, standing together to fight for a greater good, for a brighter tomorrow. It was both humbling and elating: They, three young witches, one upstart wand for hire, one pathless speaker of spirits, and one vengeance seeking witch-smith, had set these events in motion; had sparked the flame that brought these forces together. </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell put one arm around the two initiates and smiled down at them. “It wouldn’t be right to not give a cry for the order, now would it?” They couldn’t help but smile just a bit, conceding the honour to Maxwell. The old Scottsman breathed appreciably, savoring the moment before he yelled to the sky with a reminiscently youthful energy. “With Vaal and Jehanne as our witnesses: THIS FIRE IS OURS!” </p><p> </p><p>Witches in the crowd were quick to reciprocate it: “This fire is ours!” Thus did it swell, did it burgeon and burn! The Balefire grew warmer, hotter, greater! It remained “unlit” back in the hold of Caledonia, but deep in Amanda’s chest, in her blood and lungs, she felt it; a warmth like no other. Constanze felt it too, though she wasn’t sure if it was her own flame, or if it was something that Maxwell also felt; a sort of natural connection that order members had to the Balefire. It mattered not either way. What mattered was that they were looking to tomorrow with a “come what may” glare, and a “devil may care” grin unto death as it confronted them. It was a moment of nearly pure bliss. <em> Nearly </em>. Amanda, for all her pride, still felt Maxwell’s cry didn’t apply to her; not fully at least. But by the Nine, Amanda was going to do her damndest to make this fire hers before the sun set on Luna Nova for the last time. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>Sound sleep was already a foreign concept to Constanze. Now, at three in the morning, one hour before the mettle of the united witches and Fae would be tested against the gluttonous brutality of the Bathory’s, it was a paradise that would never come. Constanze “slept” in the most basic of terms. She shut her eyes and didn’t move, but she could feel every agonizing second creep by at the pace of drying cement. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> EEEP! EEEP! EEEP! EEEP! EEEP! EEEP! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Without warning or ceremony, her wand’s arcane alarm went off in a flurry of tone-death claxons, she let her eyelids rise, and allowed herself a sigh. <em> “So much for that.” </em> For a few minutes Constanze laid there, staring at the wand and its holo-magical display as it flashed the numbers like any mundane alarm clock would. She could hardly muster the energy to rise to its call let alone slap it, and it wasn’t for a lack of motivation. She’d been over these bridges of grief and vengeance and anger and every damnably vexing emotion under the sun enough times already, but now, at the final act, she was, above all else, tired. <em> “Please,” </em> She pleaded with herself and the unknowable powers of the universe. <em> “Don’t make all of this struggling be for nothing.” </em>It was her one, only, and final prayer and request. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Slap! Click! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The rest was up to her and her comrades. “Mmm.” A meaningless grunt sounded her forced rise from the less-than-comfortable bed, and by the weight of sheer stubbornness, Constanze saw herself over to the standing lamp so as to flick it on. “Mmmmm….” Annoyance took hold of her face as she squinted; her eyes weren’t quite ready for such a blinding glow. She swatted the feeling away as she turned about and scanned her room, doing her best to remember how she left it:</p><p> </p><p>It was a garage, actually. Of all the places she could have slept, she chose to set up a brick-hard mattress in a garage where she could set up a makeshift workshop. Hardly surprising, but hardly healthy either. The level of messiness and clutter was on point too, and not just because it was a rickety set up kept together through glue and spit, meant only to last three short days, but because it had that Von Braunschank touch of ordered chaos; mathematical nonsense spat out by a half baked computer algorithm: Boxes of various parts stacked up in pillars based on composition rather than usage, tools arranged based on size alone rather than family, counterbalanced by an atsoninghly neat collection of Firefly brooms; the last batch she’d managed to stitch together. It would be disorienting for anyone else to sort though, but it  worked for Constanze, and that’s all that mattered. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Now where was…. Right, right.” </em> Constanze’s eyes eventually focused on the green painted, partly rusted metal table she’d been using as a proper workspace. It had a raggedy tarp laid out over it, and her blaster-frame set atop it alongside a collection of what looked like miniaturized propane tanks, about as big as a twelve ounce plastic bottle each, and various other tools and parts. <em> “Still need to finish you.” </em> She’d just about passed out while finishing this final modification: A rudimentary flamethrower to slap onto her blaster, making it the perfect vampire killing tool as far as small arms were concerned. <em> “Ok,” </em> Constanze slapped herself lightly about five times or so, ping-ponging her hands off of her cheek until she felt awake enough to actually think more complex thoughts. <em> “Hammer.” </em>As complex as Constanze wanted to be, at least. </p><p> </p><p>She shuffled across the dirty concrete floor, passing by a cracked, full body mirror set up in the corner. It’d been there since she “moved in,” but only now did she find herself looking into it. She was in a white sleeveless shirt and grease-stained overalls; the clothes she’d worked in the night prior. Her hair was down all the way in a surprisingly neat fashion given she’d just slept. She chalked it up to the fact that her “sleep” involved no real rest, and that she could almost guarantee that she hadn’t even tossed and turned during the whole seven hour period. <em> “Of course it looks fine on the one day I couldn’t care more about.” </em> She hardly cared most days for that matter, especially amidst these past few weeks, but habits were hard to break. <em> “Should I even bother?” </em> She contemplated it for a strange moment, wondering why she could even be moving about this morning the way she did when the battle was so very close to beginning. <em> “Even when the world feels like its ending, we still wake up like it’s any other day.” </em> Was that habit, or instinct? <em> “Pointless question. Stop asking.” </em>But it intrigued her ever thinking brain nonetheless. </p><p> </p><p>Regardless, the “problem,” if one could call it that, remained. <em> “Where’s my bow…?” </em> It didn’t take much rummaging around to find the thing: A spirit blue and teal glow, coupled with a wispy embered trail, muchy like a dwindling campfire, drew her attention. <em> “There.” </em> She snatched it up from one of the cluttered desks and went back to the mirror, only to stop and realize the problem wasn’t the lack of a bow or the fact that her hair was down: <em> “Am I seriously going to fight like this…?” </em> She could imagine her typical hairstyle, the braids and knotted bangs kept together by a large bow. It was everything <em> but </em> utilitarian; probably the only non-utilitarian thing that was consistently a part of Constanze’s attire. “Mmmm….” The consequences of keeping to such a habit ran through her mind as if she were a clockwork calculator, and every equation came out with a less than desirable outcome. <em> “Grabbed by the bangs. Hair catches on fire. Caught on something. Ends up blinding me.” </em> The fact that Constanze hadn’t experienced these woes yet made her honestly puzzled. <em> “Amanda’s dumb luck rubbing off on me.” </em> It was as good an explanation as any. <em> “Focus.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>What to do about the hair then? Hell, what was she to do about her attire in general. She turned her head to the side and pensively eyed her newly loved attire; navy coat and all. <em> “Not exactly meant for a fight.” </em> Mundane or magical. <em> “Kevlar padding? Rudimentary armor?” </em> The thought started to cross her mind, but she cut it off as she focused on the holo-magical display of her wand’s watch. <em> “Not enough time.” </em> It was the flamethrower or the armor, and given Amanda had been doing all sorts of dangerous stunts in nothing but a shirt, a leather jacket, boots, and jeans: <em> “Best defence is a good offence.” </em> She surmised. <em> “Could have worked on it before today, but….” </em> But ensuring the success and safety of the many through arming them with these new brooms, and with the occasional weapon here and there, was far more important to Constanze than fretting over her own safety. <em> “Guess that rubbed off on me too.” </em> She wanted to smirk, but she just didn’t have the energy for it. Instead, her mind wandered just a bit more; she thought of Maxwell’s pining for the old and olde days. <em> “A witch-smith’s main goal is to arm the people….” </em> The spare Firefly Mark I’s shined surprisingly well in the dim light of the garage. <em> “Can’t say I haven’t done my job then.” </em> To say nothing of the various rudimentary weapons Constanze fixed up and buffed up. Hell, she even managed to repair a few old armalites some witches from Ireland brought in. <em> “Not my kind of firearm, but it’ll work as good as any.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Hobbyist tangents aside, Constanze set her mind straight, and her sights on a nearby pair of scissors and an old buzzer. “Mmm….” She glanced back at the mirror, sighed, and relented to necessity. “No use waiting.” A few shearing snips there, a painful wince there, buzzing and whining from the old barber’s tools; Constanze wasn’t trained to cut hair, but she managed a decent enough cut through magical means by the end of those ten annoying minutes. From the top of her ears down, the back of her head was shaved down to a buzzcut, leaving an uneven and frayed line that separated the buzz from the thicker hair covering her scalp and sides. She’d touched almost nothing as far as the front of her hair went, leaving her with those cheek length bangs she’d have ever since she was ten. When it was said and done, she set aside the scissors and buzzer with a snap from her fingers, whisking them off to some pile of junk in the corner, leaving Constanze before the mirror, looking down at her bow, and up at her face. She pondered on it for a few minutes more, all while rubbing her hands in a repeated motion over the strangely soft “fabric” of the spectral accessory, until she eventually came up with a suitable compromise. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze got herself dressed in a hurry, navy jacket, pants, boots and all, and finished the adjustment by speaking a single spell, <em> “Minimazius.” </em> And then pinning the shrunken spectral-blue bow to the collar of her jacket, making it look more like a bowtie. Constanze adjusted it a bit, put her hands to her hips, and gave a stonewalled nod to her reflection. “Mmmm.” She was more than satisfied. <em> “Perfect.” </em> So long as she could carry that piece of her father with her, all would be well. <em> “Now,” </em> Finished with her most basic of preparations, she turned back to her workbench; blaster and fuel tanks and all. <em> “Time to finish this.” </em>Constanze snatched up her mithril hammer and strapped it to her belt on her way over to the workbench and got to work. </p><p> </p><p>The minutes went by fast, and her work went by even faster, drummed along all to the tune of her forge-song as she hummed it. Her witch-smithing magicks weren’t needed for a project like this; just some welding, careful drill-work, and a bit of cutting and snipping to get the nozzles and tubing right, but the tune made her work feel all the more complete regardless. It had become a part of her routine, not just in labor, but in dreams as well. When emotions ran high, when her bones ached, when her muscles got sore, when the tears welled up out of nowhere beneath her eyes, the song kept it all in check. She let it out when she needed to, felt things when it was healthy to, but ever since her return to Ludinghal, she’d been able to beat back the overbearing malaise of emotions more than once; when it mattered most. It was no different now as tensions ran high. Any minute now, she was expecting to hear the Faerie messengers ringing their bells all about Porthcurno, calling for the brave and the brazen to assemble down at the beaches and docks. Before that would happen though, Constanze would be ready and raring to go, her work complete, and her arsenal sorted.</p><p> </p><p>Conveniently, the sound of distant bells started as Constanze finished up the final bit of welding and wrenching. <em> “Right on time.” </em> She lifted up her blaster, inserted her wand, and gave it a final lookover. The strapped on flamethrower was set on the right side of the weapon, held by a cage of small metal bars kept, together by hinges, secured the tanks, while a simple click of a lock undid the latches to allow for easy but safe replacement of the tanks as they ran out of gas. Finally, the hose and valve nozzle sat near the front; simple and repurposed pieces, but they’d serve their purpose. <em> “Wish I had time to test and iterate but </em> —” The bells drew nearer as Faerie lights zipped past the windows of the garage. <em> “Right.” </em> Constanze threw the gun over her shoulder and made for the door, only to catch herself mid-stride one final time. She was forgetting something: <em> “Gauntlet.” </em> The silver piece of armor, repurposed into a tool for mobility, sat at the top of a nearby pile of boxes. She willed it down into her hands with telekinetic magics, gave it a once over look to make sure the dagger was slotted in and that the chains weren’t rusting, nodded in approval, and slotted it over her right wrist. <em> “Perfect.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>The bells were right outside now, but they quickly passed and grew distant again, this time in the other direction. The ringing sent a shiver up Constanze’s spine as her mind flashed images of the confrontation between her and Nikolai at the mountaintop back in Scotland. The rage that overcame her, the complete disregard for everything but her vengeful hate, it would make its looming presence known one final time before the battle. <em> “He’s going to find me, or I’m going to find him.” </em> Her brows knit sharply, her gaze intensified. <em> “And when I see him….” </em> Her mind showed her different images then: Images of Amanda, the promises she made, the fact that she had come so far. <em> “When we see him….” </em> Her muscles relaxed just a bit. Her eyes softened. The song came to her again along with the words of the spirit in the hammer: <em> “Hate is a powerful tool….” </em> Constanze flexed each of her fingers as she stood there, semi-frozen before the door leading outside. <em> “But I won’t let it consume. I can’t.” </em> The nightmares, the talks, the trials won and lost, all of it had led up to these coming hours, and Constanze wasn’t about to let any of those victories or defeats go unrecognized. <em> “We didn’t come this far to fail now….” </em> Shelifted her right hand up to the doorknob and gripped it firmly. <em> “And I didn’t get this far by ignoring all of my chains.” </em> Vaal’s lessons rang true as Constanze’s eyes focused on the chain wrapped around her gauntlet. She finally managed a hint of a smile as a singular word came to her mind. No, not convenient. <em> “Fitting.” </em> It was better that way. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze turned the knob and pushed her way outside, allowing her to immediately join the small packs and crowds of witches and Fae that were making their way to the shore. The young witch-smith joined with them eagerly, united in purpose and strength, and followed them along toward their shared destination. <em> “Just hold on a little longer,” </em> She thought to herself as she saw the distant isle of Luna Nova peak through the sightlines of alleyways. <em> “Just a little longer, and we’ll be home.” </em>Arcane lightning cracked the distant sky. The shadow of Castle Bathory was long, and the reach of its monarch was even greater. Nine willing, the witches, mundane folk, and Fae gathered at Porthcurno would show the Bathorys just how much their reach exceeded their grasp.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The full moon began its descent below the horizon; night had fallen, but it soon would end, despite how dark the world seemed to be just beyond the lamplights and arcane flames that now lined the shore. The three “wings” of the assaulting force were in place, waiting patiently for the signal to advance as the witches who chose to stay behind readied the faux-fog spell that would see their comrades over to the island. </p><p> </p><p>To the west were the forces of the Trinity of Horns, alongside a contingent of hedge witches and Fae in support of Benjamin’s Whale of Wales, a whaling vessel which had no right to be in Porthcurno, but fell into Benjamin’s hands regardless. It was a twenty meter long vessel, about five meters across at the widest point, and three floors deep in terms of inner compartments. Four harpoon guns, two placed at the bow and stern on either side, served as its only natural defences as far as naval combat was concerned, and beyond this, the vessel was somewhat unremarkable; unchanged from its original purpose. The only thing that looked off was the vessel’s name, which was clearly <em> not </em> “Whale of Wales,” but something else entirely written in Japanese Kanji. The proper name of the vessel was instead plastered over by a strip of adhesive, water resistant paper, with the current name written on it in large red painted letters. The national Japanese flag was also hastily marked over with a lopsided Welsh flag, Y Draig Goch and all, despite the fact that Benjamin wasn’t Welsh, nor had he ever spent any meaningful time in Wales. Fruitless inquests aside, the vessel was seaworthy and beyond questioning, no matter how suspicious its arrival and origin were. </p><p> </p><p>To the east and centers, things were far tamer, more sensible in cohesion. The Sisters of Starfall, in conjunction with a contingent of hedge witches led by Harper awaited takeoff on the eastern front, while in the center, Maxwell, Amanda, and Constanze took charge of the assault. While the latter two were busy going over their own gear and the equipment of fellow witches, Maxwell had finally found a moment to deliver his younger comrades one last gift:</p><p> </p><p>Maxwell approached the two from behind, with Constanze sat on a small crate tending to her rifle while Amanda kept watch on the island with a pair of binoculars. “Ahem,” His more than obvious throat clearing got both of their attention. “I know this is hardly the time for gifts, but…” Their eyes widened slightly at his attire. He was clad in a jacket that likely hadn’t been worn in Nine knew how long, but its shape was quite familiar to Amanda and Constanze. It was sharp, dark, long and thick, colored grey and complimented by a similarly sharp and long-brimmed stovepipe hat. It was buttoned up with iron studs across the center, and a bandolier of black leather, strapped with vials, iron stakes, and a few other curious charms, went across his left shoulder and down to his right hip. It all looked worn, but similarly refurbished. “... I had a feeling you might appreciate wearing somethin’ a little hardier than plainclothes into battle.” And in his hands were two folded up jackets, equally familiar, if not more so, to the young hunter and witch-smith: These were the ones they wore when being sworn into the order. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda couldn’t help but smirk and shake her head. “Seriously now Maxwell?” She put her hand holding the binoculars to her hip and turned about fully to face the elder hunter. “I thought you said these things were for ceremony?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Mostly </em> for ceremony. <em> Mostly. </em>” Maxwell corrected Amanda as he extended his arms out eagerly, hiding a slight bit of bashfulness. </p><p> </p><p>“Heat resistant. Right?” Constanze kept powering up her rifle with little arcane gems as they conversed.</p><p> </p><p>“Aye, they are.” Maxwell nodded. “Though I’ll admit, I couldn’t help myself from putting this together while I had the time. I had to rush my work back at the order hall, what with your sudden arrival and all,” Indeed, the stitching and hemming of these jackets seemed far better if only from a glance. “And it just wouldn’t feel right for me to go on a hunt without wearing the proper gear.” Maxwell pushed the jackets closer. “The same goes for you two.” </p><p> </p><p>“Ehhh, I’m not so—” Amanda’s wishy washy rejection was interrupted by an elbow to the side from her sister. “Oof!” </p><p> </p><p>“Mmmmm, mmmm mm.” Constanze set aside her rifle to make a series of gestures as she grunted. Amanda understood them well: <em> “They’re objectively better than what we’re wearing as far as the situation is concerned.” </em>Constanze tugged on her own collar and cuffs to accentuate the point. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, bare—” Constanze’s slightly stabbing stare shut Amanda up.</p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm!” The witch-smith crossed her arms. <em> “Style isn’t going to save our lives.” </em>Amanda sighed deeply and slouched over slightly. Constanze genuinely couldn’t tell if her sister was being intentionally over dramatic, or if she cared that much about her looks at a time like this. “Seriously?”</p><p> </p><p>“L-Look! It’s probably itchy and doesn’t fit right….” Maxwell frowned and deflated at that, prompting Amanda to pat him on the shoulder. “I mean, it’s <em> probably </em> great, buuuuut….”</p><p> </p><p>“Mm-mm.” Constanze cleared her throat and held up her notepad. It read: “Didn’t Hannah and Barbara come out over a <em> literal </em> picture of you in an appleton uniform. You know. The one you got by <em> transforming your Luna Nova uniform </em>?” </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell blinked. “I’m… sorry... what?” </p><p> </p><p>“D-Don’t worry about it Maxy!” Amanda stepped back to her sister and shoved the notepad down to not-so-smoothly hide the message written on it by having it lay flat against Constanze’s head.</p><p> </p><p>“Mmmmm!” Constanze didn’t even mean anything by that. She was just annoyed, and her scrunched up expression, partially blocked by a page over her face, made that abundantly clear.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda ignored her sister. “Just uh, here! Gimme the suit! I’ll… I’ll take it from there!” Instead, she took the hint Constanze provided with the grace of a legless gazelle. </p><p> </p><p>“Could you take your hand off my head while you’re at it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, yeah.” Amanda bashfully grinned and pulled her hand off the notepad, allowing Constanze to take the pad from her head and fix up her newly shortened hair. “Anyways!” Amanda held her hands out, and Maxwell awkwardly obliged her and Constanze both. The jackets were uniform in shape and function to Maxwell’s own, though they looked far newer, and fit Amanda and Constanze well. Before the latter could try hers on though, Amanda was busy forcing her arms into the sleeves while she was still wearing her leather jacket. She earned a few deserved stares of confusion from those around her, but she held a finger up in response. “Just a second! You’ll see! Hnngh!” About thirty more seconds of cringe worthy struggle followed before Amanda successfully forced herself to wear two heavy jackets at once. “Phew…. Ok!” She drew her wand then, ready to complete the look. <em> “Metamorphie </em> <em> Weisstyss!” </em>And in a puff of smoke, her ideal hunter’s garb was realized, turning the dull and bewildered gazes of her elder, sister, and other onlookers into more appreciably attentive ones. </p><p> </p><p>The jackets were fused, for lack of a better word, bringing the details and accents that Amanda appreciated most out of both to form an ideal piece of attire. It was a jet black jacket, much like her old leather piece, and shined with that same shoe-polish shimmer, but it was longer, with the backflaps reaching about four inches past the waist, each being separated by a sharp V-shaped cut from the bottom-center. The jacket itself, instead of being a button up like Maxwell’s, was a zip up like Amanda’s old one, but the utility of the bandolier remained in the form of four pockets, two on the left, two on the right, one over the other at the breast and midsection heights. The collar was even sharper, somehow, and popped too, and her boots had changed as well. They were, ostensibly, cowboy boots without the spurs, coloured black with silver lacing and accents, perfectly matching the changes made to the old hunter’s hat, which now too was westernized in the most “American” sense. Her shirt and pants had changed as well, the former of which having been turned into a gambeson vest layered over a plain white button up, while the latter kept its jean material while changing to a dark brown color to match the rest. All in all, it was the most “Amanda” way for a hunter to look, for better or worse. </p><p> </p><p>“There!” Amanda grinned coyly, slyly, all too confidently as she put her black hat on with one hand at her hip. “So,” She turned her gaze up to peek just beyond the brim of her hat. “What do you think?” Silence followed, and not the good kind. </p><p> </p><p>“A cowboy hat. Seriously?” Constanze really shouldn’t have expected better, but here she was, looking all sorts of disappointed. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s… not… terrible.” Maxwell meandered around his crotchety and olde fashioned instincts that were screaming in his head. <em> “By the Nine this is an embarrassment to Jehanne.” </em>But really, he had no—</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, like you have room to talk!” That. “You look just as over-the-top as me!” Amanda threw her arms out and up as she chided Maxwell for his hypocrisy. </p><p> </p><p>“Now, I won’t deny that the order,” And witching organizations as a whole. “Has no idea of what the word ‘subtle’ means in regard to fashion, but that doesn’t mean you can go on and change the style of traditional garbs on a whim!” </p><p> </p><p>“What do you care!? It still does the whole flame retardant thing!” Amanda tested it then and there with a flick of her thumb and pointer finger, and indeed her claim was proven true. “And it’s still nice and padded! It ain’t much but it matters!” Amanda really didn’t prepare or expect for herself to be defending her wardrobe today. </p><p> </p><p>“But this flies in the face of the very ceremony it’s supposed to serve! Our hunts are not the kind you see old fops getting up to with foxes and hounds! It’s honourable work that goes back generations!” Maxwell was almost tempted to call them sacred. “Furthermore—!”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze sighed and clapped her hands together. <em> “Metamorphie </em> <em> Weisstyss.” </em>Her spell cut off the bickering hunters and refocused them on the smoky cloud that briefly developed Constanze. When it dispersed, Constanze was revealed to also be wearing the garb Maxwell had given her, but with a twist: Like Amanda’s, it was “merged” with the clothes she was wearing prior; the navy colour, all its golden frills and dressy look; even her silver gauntlet was gold now. The suit-dress itself was less baggy, more tight in construction, but had a button up styling similar to the original hunter’s garb, though the circular buttons were gold rather than a dull iron. Instead of a bandolier, her belt had been modified to have more pockets, slots, sheathes; she could fit just about anything she’d want to have on hand about her waist, her mithril hammer especially. Her collar, in contrast to her sister’s, was muted, close to the neck, and short, though a golden chain drew attention to the fact that she was now sporting a waist-length cape. It was more like a shawl, in truth, for the chain itself connected one tapering end around her collar to another, allowing it to rest on her shoulders with ease, and flow down her back seamlessly. Grey pants, tinted blue, combined with dark, utilitarian boots completed the look, leaving the old hat in Constanze’s hand just as it was. “Here.” She handed the cap back to Maxwell, having no desire or use for it. </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell accepted it with a bit of fumbling in hands and words. “Not much of a… a hat person, are ye?” Smooth as salted granite. “N-Not that you need it! I think that works well without it.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda practically rolled her eyes out of her head. “Oh come on! It’s tacky and disrespectful when I do it, but it’s all fine and shit when she does it?!” </p><p> </p><p>Beck, being the nosey and crude bastard he was, called out from across the beach. “Yeah! That’s right!”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh for fucks sake!” Amanda threw her hands up, utterly defeated, provoking no small amount of uneasy but welcome laughter from those around her, Maxwell included. Amanda looked at them all incredulously, harshly, but she could hardly keep up that veneer for long. It melted like butter under the flame in her heart, only to be replaced by a very fake form of frustration. “Alright, alright, get your laughs in!” Amanda waved her hands inward, as if egging on a cheering, or in this case, jeering, crowd. Amanda herself couldn’t even stop herself from laughing along with them, and for once, when she’d made a “mistake,” no voices or spectres from the past came to badger her. It was, of course, over a minor and funny moment, but even those idiotic issues managed to trigger something aggravating inside of her. <em> “Some progress is better than no progress.” </em>She surmised. </p><p> </p><p>After a short few moments, the laughter died down, and as it did, Constanze replied to AManda’s initial complaint about fairness: “It’s not the outfit,” She shook her head, rose from her seat, and threw the blaster over her shoulders. “It’s that you're trying too hard.” She let loose a sly half-smile before a distant white light caught her attention. “Mmm! East!” She pointed out along the coast, off to where The Sisters of Starfall gathered. </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell and Amanda turned their heads sharply, and they realized it along with a few other attentive witches in the crowd. “The signal!” Said Maxwell loudly, prompting eager and anxious murmurs alike to ring out amongst the crowd. </p><p> </p><p>“Benjy’s just about ready too! Look!” Amanda turned many heads around again, this time to the west. “Oi! Beck! How we lookin’ over here!?” </p><p> </p><p>Down the beach, atop one of the jetties, the lead hooligan stood alongside a small throng of witches as they prepared several sigils in the sand and on the rocks. Beck regarded these groups and their sigils carefully, and earned a thumbs up or approving gesture from each and every group. “We’s ready and willing! Fogs all good to go and the brooms are set to fly!” Beck himself got a step ahead of everyone by mounting up on his own Firefly. </p><p> </p><p>“Fine work!” Maxwell quickly got himself in gear, his eyes hardening with his posture and tone. “To your brooms and formations, just like we planned!” His words got everyone who wasn’t already scrambling to readiness move as fast as they could. </p><p> </p><p>Lotte herself nearly took a tumble as she blitzed through the criss-crossing of paths and people to reach Constanze and Amanda. “S-So this is it?” She breathed heavily,already winded from a fight that hadn’t even started yet. Her eyes spoke to horror, and even Malitrix, for all her inexpressiveness, seemed uneased. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda and Constanze both drew near to their FInnish friend without a second thought. A group embrace was shared between them in the last fleeting moments they had before they too needed to get their asses in gear. “This is it.” Said Amanda, confidently, fiercely. “Meet us in the air and stay close.” She patted Lotte on the shoulder before ducking off to snatch up her broom, one of the only non-Firefly variants in the whole wing; Amanda was a fast enough flyer as is, and she’d rather trade consistent speeds over bursts of it, no matter how much of an adrenaline junky she was. Just as she was taking off, she called back over her shoulder.“And don’t forget your training!” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze offered her own sentiments, “Stay calm. Stay tight. Remember to breathe.” Before she too went off to get her broom, which was, of course, a Firefly variant. A last minute thought crossed Constanze’s mind as well. “Send up a flare if you get separated!” Then she joined her sister in the air, leaving Lotte in a slight daze down on the ground. </p><p> </p><p>The Finnish witch broke free of her frozen when Malitrix started blinking in a strangely incoherent pattern, but one that reminded Lotte of what had been said days ago: <em> “I will protect you.” </em>It stung Lotte as much as it comforted her, but at the very least it eased her breathing down to a manageable rate, and gave her muscles permission to move again. </p><p> </p><p><em> “I know.” </em> She said to herself. <em> “But I really wish you didn’t have to!” </em> Her weak legs somehow managed to carry Lotte over to her own Firefly in a burst of speed most uncharacteristic of her. She’d never ran this fast in her life, and she wasn’t even being chased by anything. <em> “Come on, come on, come on!” </em> Not yet at least. <em> “Strap… in!” </em> The buckle on her broom snapped into place after a struggle, firmly securing her to her broom as if it was her first time riding one. Malitrix got situated as well, if only because Lotte chained her to the broom tight enough to nearly crush the boney vessel, such was Lotte’s paranoia about dropping her in the Channel. <em> “Tia Freyre!” </em> Her rushed incant was accompanied by dozens more like alike, as she melted into the cloud of witches and Fae taking to the air.</p><p> </p><p>Lotte was quick to link up with Amanda and Constanze near the center and front of the W-shaped formation that began to take hold, while Maxwell ascended to the height of it, commanding from above for now. “Fogweavers!” He shouted down to the witches entrusted with maintaining the weather affecting spells. “Ready!” They assembled their wands and staves accordingly, holding them close to their chests, hearts, lips, and so on. “Incant!” </p><p> </p><p>The order beckoned the words of power from the lips of the fogweavers: <em> “Alara Mystaria!” </em>And from their wands and sigils came great plumes of fog and mist, spewing forth and sent along toward Luna Isle by wind spells. All along the beach, to the east and west, these fogs came to life and grew immensely in size over a short period of time, setting the stage of the assault.</p><p> </p><p>“Forward! Stick to the clouds until we give the signal!” Maxwell rode forth along with everyone else, and down the beach in both directions, the other groups did the same. Over three hundred witches strong were headed for the island, but no matter how much the world prayed for them, no future saw them return without many lives lost. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Nearly fifteen minutes later…. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>From atop one of the high towers of Castle Bathory, the eyes and ears of the blood queen’s commanders were keen and at the ready. Haemonculi servants and undead slaves operated telescopes and spyglasses from the balconies while Lord Konstantin and his assembly of militantly minded nobles were crowded about a round table depicting the island of Luna Nova. Little statuettes depicted the Bathory and enemy forces, though the arrangements of the latter group were wholly speculative.</p><p> </p><p>“As you see, gentlemen, ladies,” Konstantin spoke calmly, smoothly, deeply, his head as well rounded and clean as the range of his voice. “This configuration grants us the greatest flexibility without sacrificing for cohesion….” He was a sharp and sprightly looking man, despite his age. “As cohesive as packs of marauding beasts can be.” His attire was surprisingly simple when contrasted to his lordly fellows, consisting of a simple general’s suit adorned with red epaulettes. He looked something like a Napoleonic man, though he had long since “died” before Napoleon was crowned. “Regardless, see to it that the adjustments to our formations are made with the utmost haste, minor as they may be.” The lords and ladies below him in rank nodded in agreement and acceptance. “Our foe could strike at any moment, and even the smallest break in our defences could allow for—”</p><p> </p><p>“MASTERS! MASTERS!” A wide eyed, cyclopean Haemonculus nearly dropped its spyglass over the balcony as it screamed for aid. </p><p> </p><p>The lords and lady vampires all sharply turned their gazes toward it. Konstantin took charge of their approach, parting the way toward the balcony with a simple gesture of his hand. “What is it? Have they made their move?”</p><p> </p><p>“Um, er! I’m… I’m not sure! B-But you said to tell you if anything l-l-looked strange!” The pathetic creature hopped and hobbled up along the railing of the balcony while it pointed out desperately toward the approaching mass of fog. “And that looks r-really strange!” Konstantin and his comrades looked out to where their servant was pointing, and the sight before them certainly did unease the group:</p><p> </p><p>“Is it a diversion?” Asked a Hungarian noble. </p><p> </p><p>“Could it be natural?” Posited a Prussian lady.</p><p> </p><p>“Or maybe it’s a curse!” Hissed a wary sounding Ottoman lord.  </p><p> </p><p>“It’s a screen.” Corrected Konstantin as he snatched up the Haemunculus’ spyglass. He took a brief moment to doubly confirm his suspicions. “Yes, it’s a screen to cover their attack.” His eyes focused on the small but damning sections of unfoggy air that separated each “wing” of the attack, presenting it as a three-pronged fork. “Hmmph.” He lowered the spyglass and raised a free hand up as he spoke to the many vampires and servants behind him. “Sound the alarm and send for The Fate Witches. Ready every knight we have to take flight, and ensure those loathsome beasts are roused to ruin.” </p><p> </p><p>“Right away!” Confirmed the Hungarian noble. “I shall call for The Fates!”</p><p> </p><p>The Prussian lady curtsied tersely. “And I shall ensure the knights are mounted and ready.” </p><p> </p><p>Finally, the Ottoman lord spoke. “The beasts will be ready, but what about Katalin?” He seemed quite displeased to be even mentioning the leading lady under Bathory. “If she’s going to steal away with the glory, then she can have the decency to put her skin in the game like us.” He thumbed to himself proudly, too proudly. </p><p> </p><p>Konstantin let a small breath escape his nose. “Very well. Retrieve her. But do it quickly. I have no patience for politics when the enemy is at our gates.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yes, lord Konstantin!” The trio of vampiric lords shadowed themselves away then, off to complete their objectives while Konstantin kept an eye on the approaching fog-clouds. </p><p> </p><p><em> “So if this is a screen….” </em> He asked himself, thinking back to the many battles he’d seen and studied to the point of redundancy. <em> “Then the question becomes this: Just what is being sent where? And why…?” </em> Troop composition, equipment, consistency and cohesion, all of these things were invisible to him, and while most of those facets would prove useless in this setting, his by-the-book mindset for warfare craved the knowledge regardless. <em> “It is of no consequence for now.” </em> He surmised as he returned to the war-table and began to move the pieces about in careful ways. <em> “Not until The Fates arrive.” </em> Without them, meaningful troop movements would be impossible. <em> “Assuming they arrive in time at al </em>—”</p><p> </p><p>Reality became sundered, a tear in space that revealed only darkness and unbidden colors not meant for the light, manifested itself on the balcony. The servants and vampires present all turned and shielded themselves from the sounds and sight, all save Konstantin who looked on curiously, suspiciously. <em> “The Fates? They’re here?” </em>Indeed, before him stood four witches, four fates, each sporting fiercely determined scowls barely hidden behind their billowing cloaks; all save one. Chaos, for all the horror her insectoid visage provided, was reserved, muted, withdrawn. She put on the airs of resistance and defiance toward fate, toward the notion of a pure victory for the witches of Luna Nova and the Nine Reclaimers, but in truth, she knew all too well how this would end. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> A few minutes prior…. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Chaos sat alone, her scream having long since ended, but her nightmare having only just resumed. The days went by in an instant, the last waking memory she had being the last moments before she collided with the wall of flame. <em> “Alive…?” </em> Chaos looked down at her claws and clacked her mandibles. <em> “Regretfully.” </em> Now she was back in the hateful void, alone with herself, her thoughts, and a bubbling sense of dread that sat in her gut like a stone. <em> “Child. Child, are you here with me? With Us?” </em> The Child did not answer, but Chaos could sense her there, could hear her whispers on occasion, as though she were conversing with someone. <em> “Yes…. Yes, you are here but…. But who are you…?” </em>Chaos’ train of thought trailed away. In her waking state, she couldn’t realize what was going on in the ocean of her shared minds, but that wasn’t to say that Chaos hadn’t changed after that fitful sleep. </p><p> </p><p>The Witch in Black scanned the void and found it not wholly empty; a rock, a boulder, a prison, cracked, and trembling with incoherent rage from the captive within. “The bloodless one; shackled against their will….” The words of foresight escaped Chaos’ lips; the memories of her auguries were flooding back to her. “Unleashed on the night of the night where the nightly queen cries her final tears….” Her carapace shivered and clattered in a strange display of human fear from an inhuman body. “And if he is here, and I’ve only just awoken from an injury, then that means—” Three pressences converged on Chaos’ position in an instant. They came quickly, blindingly so, but not with malice: With relief. </p><p> </p><p>“Chaos!” The three witches, Will included, exclaimed with no small amount of joy as they collided into their sister from three angles. Their familiarity with the word “hug” was akin to the moon’s familiarity with plantlife, but the gesture, uncomfortable and strange as it felt and was, came as a welcome one for a few fleeting moments. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re awake!” Chimed Cause. </p><p> </p><p>“Alive and eager! Added Effect.</p><p> </p><p>“Finally,” Said Will, her first word conveying distaste, “We may proceed as a whole again.”  Only for the words to follow to come in a gentle yet grim tone, like that of a worried sister. </p><p> </p><p>They stood there for a long few moments, clutching Chaos closely while The Witch in Black held her breath. Every fiber and cell of her body fought against the urge to return the gesture, knowing it hollow, empty, and hypocritical in the greater scheme, but loathing the idea of offending them in these “tender” moments even more. <em> “Curse me, and my cowardice!” </em> Swore Chaos to her many selves. <em> “Curse this false feeling of love…!” </em> She relented to the embrace of her sisters and returned it in kind, tighter than they ever could as the last of her tears slipped out from her nearly consumed human eye. <em> “And curse my human tendencies! If I am doomed to become monstrous, then let me be regarded as such!” </em>Her claws practically snapped themselves in half from how viciously she gripped them. Her body began to tremble and ripple, the flesh of eld writhing and wriggling beneath as emotion gave way to transformation. </p><p> </p><p>“Reunions aside,” But Will’s voice halted the change in an instant; Chaos’ eyes shot wide. “Shall We get you up to speed? There have been many developments, and…” Will faltered as she, Cause, and Effect stepped back from Chaos, each save the last bearing their own visage of mourning.  “And we—</p><p> </p><p>“Require my input on a most crucial matter.” Chaos finished Will’s sentence for her, somewhat unthinkingly as the visions became manifest, and reality became clearly kaleidoscopic. </p><p> </p><p>Will cocked her head suspiciously, and with genuine confusion. “You… are aware then?” </p><p> </p><p>Cause and Effect shot each other bewildered looks. “Has she truly,” Began the former, “Taken up the art of auguring,” Continued the latter, “Once again!?” And so they finished as one. </p><p> </p><p>“Nay.” Chaos hissed and bristled, appearing angry, but in truth feeling only shame. “We have always seen. Always known. The visions come and came…. Unceasing, maddening….” What shreds of joy the coven had fell away with a bit of black bile from Chaos’ mandibles. “We shut them out as best We could. For Our sake and yours.” Uncomfortable quiet fell over the group until Chaos forced herself to continue. “But to answer your titular question, Will, Cause, Effect, We… We agree to the conditions.” Chaos nodded hesitantly. </p><p> </p><p>Cause considered their deal, the outcomes, and now Chaos’ revelation of foresight. It struck The Witch in Red with a terrible realization. “Wait a moment….” She stepped closer to Chaos, her face a mix of distrust and dread. “If you know about the deal, then that means you probably know how the dice will fall! You know which of us has to die!” Cause began to hyperventilate as her hands tightened into fists. “And you wouldn’t agree to it if you weren’t certain that you’d be the one to sacrifice yourself! That’s it isn’t it!? You’re playing us for fools and—!”</p><p> </p><p>“Cause!” Effect yanked back hard on her twin’s collar, nearly causing the two to fall over in a stumble. “Do We need to remind you just how traumatic and unreliable our sister’s visions are!? How dare you insinuate such betrayal of our trust!” For once, Effect managed to truly cow Cause into a defensive posture, such was The Witch In Green’s ferocity. Effect sighed gruffly, harshly, and shook her head at the sight of her unnerved twin. “Gods be damned! Our nerves are like <em> lightning </em>they're so unstable!” Her whole body seemed to twitch at the electric word.</p><p> </p><p>“We apologize, Chaos.” Will did so on The Twins’ behalf. “Since our failed attempt to cull one of the relcaimers, things have… only gotten worse.” Her mind briefly went to Arcturus, to the Ghosts in Red, Green, and Black; the questions they asked. “Hope fades, yet the struggle persists,” Curious how their colours matched like that, “As always.” But it was nothing to question now. </p><p> </p><p>Chaos cautiously calcked her mandibles and blinked her thousandfold eye and human eye out of sync. “We see….” Indeed she did, and her realization from before about the prisoner yet lingered in her head. Things were about to get worse. <em> Much worse </em>. “Then we have no reason to linger. Let us be off to the academy that we might be done with this sordid business once and for all.” Chaos slithered past her sisters, her many mandibles hidden beneath the cloak clicking and clacking as if she walked like a giant millipede. </p><p> </p><p>Her sister’s eyes followed her, and Will pursued her with inquiries. “Hold, Chaos. Why must we return to the island? The signal has not been given.” Will had her suspicions, but….</p><p> </p><p>“I-Indeed! Our foe….” The Twins, speaking in unison, trailed off, as they came to realize what Chaos meant. “You mean—?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” Chaos nodded calmly, her eyes cast forward toward the black nothingness, her head bobbing along as though she were in a depressive stupor. “The witches have made their move. You will come to regret that our allies are only just… <em> now </em> taking note.” The way she phrased that titular word made it seem like she could see the events unfold even now. “So let us go,” With the utmost disinterest, Chaos raised one scything talon of her many hidden appendages and cleaved a hole in reality. “Our destiny awaits.” But was it Our destiny? Or our destiny? This was a question that the three other Fates could not answer. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Back in the present, a few minutes later…. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“So you knew of this attack, yet failed to inform us sooner?” Konstantin, unlike Nikolai, managed to keep a surprising amount of poise when making such damning accusations. </p><p> </p><p>“Our mind… was elsewhere.” Chaos spared everyone the details. They, much like everything else, seemed not to matter any more.</p><p> </p><p>“She was incapacitated.” Corrected Will. “But we may assign blame later,” Assuming any of them live to worry about such petty things. “For now we must focus on our response to this aggression.” She eyed every member at the table with daggered eyes, eventually settling on the disgruntled visage of Katalin. “Luckily, it seems that you and yours have managed to prepare a sensible defence…” Will’s eyes then scanned the table again, looking for two figures in particular, but coming up empty. “Despite the clear lack of care given by the rest of your bloodline.” </p><p> </p><p>The jab at her family angered Katalin, but ever a lady of posture and diplomacy, she swallowed it back with only the most minor of winces; “Believe me when I say that, had I leash for that dog I call a brother, he would be kept to post.” Though she only managed such cool reservations at a time of crisis because she couldn’t help but agree with Will, albeit only in her mind. “As for our queen… she is above these matters. It is the duty of her generals to manage the armies.” An unexpected hesitance filled her voice, but her true convictions remained untested. If Elizabeth Bathory herself could not be bothered to deal with what seemed like impending doom, then just what was her duty? What was she doing in these very moments?</p><p> </p><p>Cause and Effect whispered a loathing complaint to themselves: “And they wonder why feudal society vanished a few centuries back….” A small rumble of displeased throat clears and “ahems” followed. The Twins simply turned their noses up in response. </p><p> </p><p>“You may quibble later.” Chided Will. “Now, before we deliberate, Chaos:” Will gestured to the monstrous Witch in Black. “What else can you see of the coming battle? How might we prepare for their assault?” </p><p> </p><p>Chaos blinked, unevenly still, at a slow, lethargic pace. “They come at us in three waves.” She slowly turned about and gestured to each mass of fog as she spoke of those within. “To the west sails a ship meant for the survivors, and from the north and east come the true threats.” The rest of the war council took note, and Konstantin prompted further details. </p><p> </p><p>“How do they approach from the north and east? And what of their numbers?” </p><p> </p><p>“Krkrkk….” Chaos clacked her mandibles, her expression unreadable and neutral. “Two hundred strong, by broom, evenly split.” Konstantin nodded and began to move the pieces on the war board into position. “Many are seasoned witches, but hardly any are warriors.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good.” Konstantin gestured to the Ottoman lord. “Lord Bekir, you will lead the largest contingent of our knight down the central lane. I want your formation to be wide, and your soldiers vigilant for stragglers. A small net risks this school of minnows gaining a chance to go around us.”</p><p> </p><p>Before Bekir could respond, Chaos dashed the plan aside with prophetic disinterest. “They will escape past your defenses. The curse upon time will not hold.” Uncomfortable quiet fell upon the room. </p><p> </p><p>“Then what would you have them do, Chaos?” Asked Will pensively. </p><p> </p><p>Chaos sighed. “Nothing. That is the <em> best </em> outcome.” It wasn’t, but in truth, there was no “best” outcome, just variations of pain and woe; multitudes of failure. </p><p> </p><p>“You can’t be serious!” Objected Katalin. “You can see the future, and truly there is no way to—!” </p><p> </p><p>“Leave it, Katalin.” Konstantin remained calm, collected, and even seemed to be pleased with the answer. “This information is invaluable. Knowing that our counter offensive is not only necessary, but will not succeed in its entirety, informs the stratagems of our defence.” Katalin took a deep breathe, and let it go. There was wisdom in his words. Konstantin nodded appreciably and looked to Cause and Effect. “That, is where you two will come in.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tch!” Cause and Effect felt their blood boil at the thought of being commanded by a parasite, but so it went. After all, they were the ones who brought the Bathory’s here. “To what end?” They asked as one.</p><p> </p><p>“The eastern front; deny them the flank.” The military terms flew over the witches head, so Konstantin elaborated. “As <em> powerful </em> sorcerers, I assume you have at least <em> one </em> method of barring entrance to the island, yes?” </p><p> </p><p>“We are not,” Began Effect, “Miracle workers.” Finished Cause. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m not asking you to seal the island,” Even he knew that such a feat was impossible. “I’m asking you to blockade the eastern crest of the island. Do it by any means necessary.” </p><p> </p><p>Cause and Effect regarded one another contemplatively, their sneers remaining, but for once not being aimed at each other. After a few moments of mothballing, they grumbled their agreements. “A storm of flame should deter them well enough.” With their power of the elements combined, such a spell would be costly and difficult, but beyond effective. </p><p> </p><p>Will envisioned it in her head before turning to Chaos for approval. “Have you foreseen the outcome of this as well?”</p><p> </p><p>“It will serve.” That was all the mutated witch had to add. “The other pathe are... negligibly better or worse.”</p><p> </p><p>“We don’t have the time to weigh the benefits of minutia,” Cautioned Konstantin. “Now for—”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, yes, We shall handle it.” Chaos heard his words before he had the chance to even form them in his mind. It took her a moment to realize that it was a vision, and not the truth of reality in the present. “Ahh… Our apologies.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yes, well,” Konstantin adjusted his collar. “See to it that their ship sinks. Bring with you whatever aquatic beasts you have enthralled; they’ll be of no use to us on land.” Chaos nodded drolly. </p><p> </p><p>Will frowned slightly. Her eyes remained fixated on Chaos in a long moment where everyone seemed to be at a loss for words while her own thoughts raced. <em> “This isn't right. She never </em> — <em> She almost never acted like this.” </em> There was only one other time where Chaos was so despondent, so resigned to nihilism, a time which seemed so close and immediately real despite it having taken place millenia ago, under a pale grey sky, when the thunder first masked the yawning moans of a creature from beyond the light of the stars. <em> “Something happened to her while she dreamt.” </em> Will surmised. <em> “But…. But this can’t just be the result of a bad dream.” </em> The Fates had seen and done terrible things; what was a nightmare to timeless boogeymen? <em> “Perhaps she has </em>—”</p><p> </p><p>“Er, Will.” Cause prodded the Bearer of The Mantle gingerly. “Are you… well?” </p><p> </p><p>Will blinked back to life and regarded her red robed sister. “Yes. Our apologies.” The words Konstantin spoke of in the interim, while Will was thinking, slowly became processed in her head. “We were merely considering the options.” Surely there was a way to make herself useful to the battle, of that she was certain. <em> “Curse the urgency of our situation.” </em>She thought to herself, setting aside the matter of Chaos for now. “Though We would never hesitate to lead the charge Ourself, the likelihood of an unintended breach of The Pact is too great.” Konstantin didn’t even deign to lift his eyes from the map, having expected as much. “Instead, We shall work Our powers to order the enthralled upon the island, and prepare for the inevitable collapse of the dome.” </p><p> </p><p>“Good.” Konstantin set the final piece of his board into place. “In the meantime, myself and Katalin will command the battle from on high.” He looked to some of the other noble vampires in specific. “And should the worst come to pass, we will make a final stand in the castle.” Almost all of his compatriots immediately balked and bellowed at the notion, but he silenced them with a rare display of fangs and a deep growl. “SILENCE!” His claws tensed and ease in rhythm with his breathing; slow and steady. “The wise general prepares for victory and defeat in equal measure…. And I will suffer no bellyaching in service to the former should the latter come to pass.” And with that threat the “bellyaching” ceased. Even the most pompous of nobles had to accept reality when it stared them down from the barrel of a gun; or, in this case  from the tip of a wand. “Now go!” His voice was the definition of commanding, and his comrades obeyed their orders dutifully. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes lord!”</p><p> </p><p>“For queen and crown!” </p><p> </p><p>“Bathory wills it!”</p><p> </p><p>Acknowledgements rang out throughout the war-room. Swords, axes, maces, and halberds were drawn and raised all across the castle-ship. Devotion became fury, and fury became motion, hateful and bloodthirsty, as knights, lords, and ladies took to the wind beside aberrations and children of magic, enslaved by a similar hate that was not their own. </p><p> </p><p>Meanwhile, on the balcony, just as the Fates were beginning to leave, Will approached Chaos, and reached out to her black robed sister from behind. “Wait,” She said quietly as her eldritch sister froze in her tracks. “We… <em> I </em>. I would know what ails you.” It was equal parts command, and equal parts sororal concern.</p><p> </p><p>Chaos slowly turned her head just enough to allow her bulbous, red, fly looking eye to catch a glimpse of Will on the peripheries. She was genuinely concerned, and fear was beginning to show in her expression as well; fear that this battle had already been decided, and that their centuries of struggle were for now. Behind her, Cause and Effect shared those same concerns. “It is unlike you,” Said Effect. “To act so…. So…” Continued Cause, requiring her twin to drive the point home. “Distant.” </p><p> </p><p>“Krrrrk…. Krkkrk….” Chaos sampled the words as she did the wind and rain, the sun and the moon, the motions of the universe around her as her mind’s eye saw it. Billions of colours, shapes, figures, shadows and stars, none of which illuminated a future in which The Fates could claim victory; no future in which humanity survived. “It’s….” She contemplated telling them this, “It’s just….” But she could not bear to look them in the eyes as she saw their future selves writhing in indescribable multitudes of agony. She had to make a choice: “Just leave me alone.” And she chose isolation over shared suffering. “And keep your pretenses of sympathy to yourself.” Chaos harshly shrugged off Will’s warding hand and stepped toward the edge of the balcony. “Lest you forget, dear <em> sister </em>,” From there, her cloak billowed outward as a set of three differently paired insectoid wings unfolded out wide; a sickening crack and crinkle of carapace accompanied the sight. “The Pact forbids such weakness.” And so she jumped, taking flight toward the west with the sound of  her wings, a million buzzing hornets, serving as the only harbinger of her coming. </p><p> </p><p>Will was left at the balcony, both stunned and offended beyond measure. Her eyes grew hot and white, as did her aura for a short moment, but she forced herself to remain calm for now. “Very well,” She inadvertently spoke aloud. “If that is how you wish to act….” She spun about harshly, as if walking on a knife's edge. “You heard her, and now you hear Us!” The old hatred and stonewalled focus that Will had carried from the start made a strong resurgence, to Cause and Effect’s gulping dread. “A pact made is a pact kept!”</p><p> </p><p>“A pact made,” And yet, “Is a pact kept!” They couldn’t help but echo her anger. </p><p> </p><p>To the skies they went, with Will descending to the forest with redoubled stoicism, while Cause and Effect made for the east to prepare their trap, their faces warped by malicious grins and defiant sneers. Off in the distance though, Chaos bore a truly sorrowful expression. She was weeping, though she was so mutated that she had lost the ability to form tears. <em> “It’s better this way,” </em> She told herself. <em> “Better that I distance myself now to soften the blow later.” </em> Part of her wished she started distancing herself sooner. <em> “It will make my fate easier to accept.” </em> Were it so easy. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> A few minutes later…. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The wind was biting, and the cold did little to harden the resolve of the witches; Lotte especially. All it did was sting, and cut, and burn her cheeks, ears, nose, and any section of flesh that managed to get exposed for even the slightest of seconds; the space right above her socks, the part of her wrist where her gloves met her jacket. It was agony, and she couldn’t even see what was coming! None of them could; none save Maxwell and a few other watchful witches on high, dedicated spotters and guiders for the many witches below, and Constanze, who, of course, had a gadget for this kind of thing. Lotte could barely get a look at her German friend, for fear of colliding into one of the witches in formation ahead of or behind then, but when she did, it looked like Constanze holding one of those sight-seeing telescopes. How it allowed her to see anything beyond the ofg was beyond Lotte, but the deathly quiet of the air about them made Lotte want to think about anything; literally <em> anything </em> else. It was as if every moment of grim silence before the battle took another few years off of Lotte’s life expectancy, such was her fear, and Malitrix’s blinking reassurances did just about nothing to soothe that feeling. “H-How close are we?” She managed to ask. </p><p> </p><p>“Half way.” Constanze lowered her telescopic device for just a moment to look up toward Maxwell. “Schwester.” She glanced back down to Amanda, who flew at the front of the small V-shaped formation the three witches made. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sitrep from Maxwell.”</p><p> </p><p>“On it.” Amanda whipped up her wand and spoke a simple spell. <em> “Voxia” </em>Her wand lit up white at the tip, allowing her to speak through Maxwell’s wand from a small distance. “Oi, Maxy,” Up above, Maxwell could clearly be seen fumbling for his wand, having been too focused on keeping watch. “You hear me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Crystal, Amanda.” The light on Amanda’s wand brightened and softened in tune with the annunciations of Maxwell’s words. “What is it? Has Constanze spotted something?”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda looked over her shoulder to get Constanze’s answer; a shake of the head. “Nah, nothing down here…. She wanted to know if there were any problems on the flanks though.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hrmm….” Maxwell’s broom swayed a bit as he leaned around to get a closer look. “I can’t see anything amiss, but I’d give ‘em a ring just to make sure.” </p><p> </p><p>“Mmm.” Constanze flew a bit ahead so that she could speak into Amanda’s wand. “Will do. Get the witches with us ready. We’re nearly in range.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wh—? Are you sure?” Maxwell could be seen looking down at three from on high. “Shouldn’t we wait to get as close as we can before we throw caution to the wind?”</p><p> </p><p>“The longer we wait to spring the attack, the more likely they’ll realize it’s an attack to begin with.” Constanze kept wary eyes on the foggy horizon. She may not have been able to see beyond it, but she couldn’t help but shake that creeping feeling that all was not well.</p><p> </p><p>Maxwell sighed, sounding weary from the tension as well. “If you believe it's best to do that, then run it by our comrades. We’ll need unanimous support, because if this attack goes off half-cocked, then we’ll be picked off and swatted like flies.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmhm.” Constanze understood that well enough. “Keep an eye out. I’ll let you know. Over and out.” Constanze pulled away while Amanda said her own piece:</p><p> </p><p>“And try not to fall behind when we get movin’! This ain’t your granddad’s broom!” A bit of banter to soften the frosty grip that anxiety had on her shoulders. </p><p> </p><p>“Just because—! How could—! Ugh….” Maxwell wasn’t a fan of it, but it worked. “Did you forget who saved you three back in Scotland?” </p><p> </p><p>“Heh, I sure as hell remember—” Amanda was going to make a joke, but Constanze gave her a disappointed sort of shake of the head. Now was clearly <em> not </em> the time for funnies. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll leave ‘em alone.” Amanda rubbed her eyes, cheeks, and shook herself into a more awake state, brushing off all the goosebumps that were putting her senses on edge. “Stay frosty, Maxwell.” </p><p> </p><p>“Likewise.” The elder hunter severed the connection. </p><p> </p><p>“H-Honestly, Amanda,” Lotte did her best to sound <em> somewhat </em> calm, but failed miserably. “How do you… stay so c-calm and lighthearted about s-stuff like this?” The stuttering was partially the cold, and partially her nerves. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda raised a brow and sheathed her wand. “Didn’t we talk about this at some point?” </p><p> </p><p>“N-Not to be rude, but I can’t believe that this is just… faking it until you make it.” Or spite.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda knew that too, on some level. “Well you wouldn’t think I’m calm if you could hear my heart right now.” She joked, but the heavy beating in her chest wasn’t a lie, and the deathgrip she had on her broom wasn’t exactly a sign of courage. “But I get what you mean….” She searched for an answer, an easy one; at least it passed the time. She wanted to say she was hopeful, but that A, sounded too cheesy, and B, the fact that Dyrnwyn had rejected her made her feel unworthy not just of the sword, <em> “Fuck the sword; It’s just a piece of magic steel.” </em> But unfit for the duty that she now undertook. <em> “Just gotta prove it wrong….” </em> She said to herself while glancing down at her hip where the sword rested. As for the answer to Lotte’s question, Amanda eventually came to an honest answer: “Well, for one, these fuckers are <em> exactly </em> the kinda people I hate the most: They’re greedy, cruel, and posh as all get out.” Amanda already liked a scrap, but a scrap against bougie madmen who gave her a whole laundry list of reasons to kick their ass? That was a gimme. “So, yeah, I guess I’m looking forward to this.” </p><p>“Isn’t that a little… creepy?” Lotte awkwardly adjusted her seating. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda chuckled, though she wasn’t trying to be dismissive. “Maybe…. But hey, I ain’t trying to say I’m gettin’ my rocks off over this. Hell, I wish I never had to do anything like this again.” Getting into brawls was one thing; taking the lives of men and Fae, wicked or otherwise, that was another story. “But that just ain’t the kinda world we live in.” She spoke as if some world-weary wanderer, though it’s not like she came to that conclusion all on her own. “So long as there’s creeps like these trying to abuse and kill people for their own gain, there’s gotta have to be some folks out there ready to give ‘em the boot.” She rolled her head along her shoulders and cracked her neck. “Because god knows we don’t wanna find out what happens if we let people like Nikolai get what they want.”</p><p> </p><p>“I-I guess it makes sense.” Lotte agreed logically, but her heart wasn’t fully in it. “I mean, having pride in your work must make it easier.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, that’s a part of it,” Amanda patted down her hat, ensuring it didn’t fly away. “But more importantly…. I don’t know if any of this is gonna work out.” She began grimly in content, but remained determined and lighthearted in tone. “We might all get killed and end up saving no-one,” Her grip on her broom tightened even more. “But nobody’ll be able to say we didn’t give these bloodsuckers a helluva fight…. And you know what?” She looked over her shoulder and managed to muster a smile fit for a deadwoman walking. “I’m ok with going out like that.” </p><p> </p><p>“Ahh….” Lotte sure as hell wasn’t though. “I see.” That coward comment from Constanze came back to haunt her as she let her head droop a bit, her eyes cast toward the calm but bleak waters below. “I… I guess I am too then.” Again, she <em> absolutely </em>wasn’t, however, she was here, among witches ready for the fight of their lives. Whether by peer pressure or some genuine sense of duty to her friends and the innocent, it didn’t matter: Lotte had to see this to the end. </p><p> </p><p>“Got it.” Luckily for everyone’s mood though, Constanze managed to finally get in contact with The Warlock Superior and Harper, having summoned up holo-magical displays to speak to them. “Izak—” The Warlock Superior’s name. “—Harper. Report.” The latter was flying high above the clouds beside a contingent of Starfallen Sisters, while the former was standing aboard the Whale of Wales in the steering console, with Benjy at the wheel.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re getting nothing over here, Conz.” Said Harper as she took another scan of the horizon. “It’s all dead air out here.” </p><p> </p><p>“All is quiet on the western front.” Izak spoke cooly, flatly. “The waters are calm, and we’ve had no signs of interfer—” The view from Izak’s display started shaking. He, alongside Benjy and several other witches and mundane folk manning the ship, stumbled about for a few moments. </p><p> </p><p>“Izak! Report! What’s going on!?” Conbstanze’s raised voice and fearful tone drew the attention of a few nearby witches. Luckily, the shaking stopped, and the ship continued along its normal path. “Izak?”</p><p> </p><p>“Prokletstvo!” The Croatian warlock shoved himself off of the bar he was clinging to for support and addressed Benjamin annoyedly. “Are we alright!?”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re fiiiine!” Benjy waved it off as he fixed his posture. “Just hit a sandbar is all! Nothin’ to fret ovah.” </p><p> </p><p>“A sandbar…?” Izak and the crewmates in the console looked out the windows. “Out this far?” </p><p> </p><p>“The channel’s not <em> that </em> deep y’know.”</p><p> </p><p>Izak sighed and wiped his face. “Then sail better.” </p><p> </p><p>Benjamin rolled his shoulders and shook the sailing cobwebs off of his arms. “Maybe I’ll consider that if ye ask nicely,” The hints of a smirk could be seen creeping up the side of his face. “Or if we get rid of this blasted fog. Doesn’t exactly make the whole avoidin’ sandbars part of my job all that ea—” Distant screaming cut their words short, and Benjamin’s eyes went wide as he jumped back a hair. “Christ!” Benjamin turned <em> hard </em> on the wheel, and the ship groaned and creaked as it fought to slide around whatever it was the crazed fisherman saw. Izak did his best to brace himself again, and managed to get a view from out of the cabin, alongside some of the crewmates:</p><p> </p><p> The holo-magical display captured the view of the deck from the console, and through the hints of frost and mist that began to cloud the view, Constanze and company could clearly see a writhing and towering serpent dead in the boat's path. “HANG ON!” Benjamin’s call to brace was muddled by a harsh and clicking shriek that came from the great sea serpent, as it’s bright teal and pink frills spread wide in concert with its deathrattle. Blasts of magic were almost immediately sent its way from above and below, but the beast, maddened by a sympathetic rage, eyes red with hate, responded in kind with a jet of steaming hot water from its mouth. It shot down several witches from their brooms, and badly burned several others both on and above deck. By the time Benjamin had cleared the great serpent, their ship steaming past it, chaos had taken hold over the ship. </p><p> </p><p>Crewmates, witches, Fae, and mundane, moved with all haste to aid the scalding burns of the wounded, while others went to the stern to fire more potshots at the serpent, which Izak caught a glimpse of as he looked behind them. Witches on brooms and flightbound Fae engaged the water devil in mortal combat as it snapped and struck at them like a viper might at a low-flying swallow. “Not that deep eh!?” Izak cursed their hubris and made to leave the cabin, wand at the ready, and eyes on the holo-magical display for just a moment more. “Stay your course! We’ll handl—” Then Chaos fell upon the deck in a more literal sense, as a hard <em> crunch </em> of metal and wood sounded by the bow of the ship. Izak sharply turned to face the window again to see a six-winged entity, shrouded in black, slowly rise to a standing posture. In the next moment, all sound seemed to vacate the world as Chaos held up her glowing claws to the sky and let loose a wail that could break the spirits of even the cruelest and most unfeeling of men. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>“SHHHHRRRAAAAAAAAAAAA!” </em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Windows cracked, ears bled, people fell to their knees and writhed in agony as painful emotions from ages past consumed their waking minds. The scream even managed to disrupt the signal between Izak and the other wing-commanders, causing the display to turn fuzzy and garbled, though keen eyes could see dark figures, scaled humanoids, smelling and looking of fish-lizards, as they began to claw their way onto the deck from the sea, summoned by the shriek of their sympathic puppet master. Then the feed was cut entirely as battle was met in earnest. </p><p> </p><p>“Izak!” Constanze shook her wand angrily. “Benjy!” </p><p> </p><p>“Good god….” Harper spoke for all the other disquieted viewers of the feed; she was mortified. </p><p> </p><p>“OI! MAXWELL!” Amanda wasted no time getting the word out through her wand. “Benjy’s cover got blown! We need to—” But Maxwell had a similar idea, albeit for a much worse reason.</p><p> </p><p>“Hang on Amanda, we’ve got company!” Maxwell raised </p><p> </p><p>“Ahh hell! What now!?” Amanda drew her wand and Carnwennan, merging the two with a slight of hand while Constanze brought her scope back up. </p><p> </p><p>She took a moment to get a clear look of the path ahead of them, and when she finally did, she could clearly see a large contingent of knights astride dreadsteeds headed straight for them! “Mmmm!?” She grunted the words that never got a chance to form on her lips. <em> “They knew!?” </em>Either that, or they were more organized than Constanze would have liked. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda got the message clearly: “Eyes up and wands out! We got freaks incoming!” </p><p> </p><p>As did Maxwell, who used a whistle around his neck to grab the entire wing’s attention. “OUR COVER’S BLOWN! DISPERSE THE FOG!” With his order came action. The witches of the central group summoned up various force and wind spills to create one mighty gale that split the fog-cloud in two and stymied its advance. Now in the clear, all of the witches could see the dozens of knights that were coming to meet them. They didn’t match the witches in number, but they weren’t that far off, and their average skill as combatants was certainly greater; the facts were plain before everyone’s eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“No matter!” Shouted Beck, his nail-ridden cricket bat held high. “We don’t need no sneak attack! These dodgy muppets ain’t got nothin’ on us!” His band of hooligans echoed his insults and jeers. “So come on! Let’s kick their fuckin’ teeth in!” Unconventional as it was, a rallying cry is a rallying cry, and by the Nine were the witches pissed! The fates of not only the innocent, but of the last remaining academy for magic that dared show its face so publicly and brazenly., were at stake! Every witch drew their wands and weapons, and the formations tightened up further, as if mimicking the clenching of jaws and fists in preparation of the brutal clash to come. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda herself drew Dyrnwyn from its primary sheathe and charged a Phos spell on the end of Carnwennan, while Constanze tossed her clunky set of binoculars to the channel and readied her blaster. Lotte on the other hand, was completely stunned. She had her wand out, but half of her brain wasn’t even sure what it was, and the other didn’t know exactly what to do with it. She was paralyzed by fear, but quite literally running on auto-pilot. Conscious or not, she had to be ready for Constanze to give the order: “READY WANDS!” The witch-smith’s order reached up high, bidding Maxwell to blow his whistle twice, cementing the signal. The witches all put their wands and casting implements to the backs of their brooms.</p><p> </p><p>Before things got too hairy though, Harper gave one bit of reassuring news before she cut her feed: “We’re not finding any resistance over here! We’ll meet you at the island, just like we planned!” Thus did her display blink out, leaving Constanze and company to the battle at hand.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze kept the people steady, “Hold!” But the order wouldn’t last forever. Sweat began to drip down people's palms. Fingers flexed and trembled. The Bathory knights and lords drew closer by the moment, the reds of their steeds’ eyes alighting the early morning twilight in a swarm. “Hold…!” Constanze calculated the distance as she saw it; the timing had to be just right if they wanted to make this maneuver work. Tensions ran high, nerves began to fray, but the witches held their lips shut.</p><p> </p><p>Finally, when the knights’ own battle cries could be heard in the distance, “NIGHT HAS FALLEN! NIGHT HAS FALLEN!”  Constanze gave the word:</p><p> </p><p>“NOW!” Three whistles from Maxwell immediately followed her shout, <em> “TIA INFERNA!” </em>and the resounding BOOM that came right after left no small amount of ears ringing. The Firefly’s lived up to their name in a blaze of glory as the spells gave sparks to the combustible hairs. Each witch became like a rocket, with great plumes of smoke billowing from behind them, enough to make any NASA shuttle blush, and with a breakneck speed to boot! Each brooms plume and flame were small in isolation, but together, united in formation and purpose, appeared as a great flaming wave from on high and far away. </p><p> </p><p>The Bathory’s may have come prepared for a fight, but none of them could have been prepared for the blurring that passed their steeds and left them in the dust. A few unlucky vampires even had the displeasure of experiencing a mach-one throttling from some of the witches as they blasted by. One lost his head to Dyrnwyn’s biting edge, and two got their skulls caved in by tire irons and wrenches. Others had their horse cut, their legs slashed, or their formations completely obliterated by the spear tipped points of the Firefly brooms, coupled with hastily shot spells to blast apart and confuse the vampiric ranks. </p><p> </p><p>The bathory assault was immediately in disarray as the lords struggled to reassemble their squadrons or even make sense of what just happened. The black smoke clouded the vision of many, and sent at least a few knights crashing into one another as the dread steeds undead ferocity gave way to fright; a decisive opening from the witches, but hardly the end. Amanda squinted through the buffeting winds as her phos spells sent her cometting forward alongside the others, and she could clearly that they had nearly reached the island, but also that a rearguard was waiting in the wings for them. “CONZ!” She pointed it out, struggling to lift her arm under such stressful G-force. Her sister saw it too, after blinking away a few tears from her eyes, and raised a fist to try and give the signal, but was unable to speak. Amanda took it on herself then. “CUT THE BURNS! CUT THE BURNS!” She eased up on her Phos spells to fire up a red flare, signalling for everyone to slow it down, and so Maxwell followed it up with another two whistle blows, bringing everyone to a slower, more normalized pace.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda turned her head around in the short time they had before the second clash came. “Is everyone alright!?” Lungs heaved, some stomachs churned, and brooms sizzled by the hairs; they’d all spent about a quarter of their “fuel,” as it were. But not a single witch appeared to have been lost, and the shorts laughs of triumph that sounded amongst some groups spoke to that little victory. Lotte was of course staring off a thousand miles away, but she was nodding in agreement. “Ok!” Amanda paused to look eastward, and saw an equally pleasing sight: Another fireball bound for the island; Harper and the sisters had lit their own fuses, and by the looks of it, they really didn’t have any competition. “Now for the real deal! Just like we planned!” Everyone got their heads back in the game, recovered from their whiplash, and readied for the real fight. Unlike the initial charge though, this one was quiet, unavoidable, and deadly:</p><p> </p><p>Twenty seconds of bliss passed. Twenty seconds where each and every person felt lighter, weightless, painless; the world was soft, and the darkness soothing. The sight of the rear guard vampires converging on their position moved in slow motion, and every heartbeat could be parsed with clarity. It was though everyone collectively exhaled, </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> CRASH! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And then the peace of twilight silence was broken by the thunder of explosive spells, clashing steel, whacking bats, goring blades, and the screams of killers and the killed. The knights and their lords roared ferociously, the witches and Fae shouted and screamed courageously, and the false storm above the isle thundered out its booms and bellows in the near distance. What was once an ordered charge of ranks and formations almost immediately became a dogfight between two opposing hives of wasps. Firefly spears gored a few dread steeds by the flank before pulling up hard, while some unfortunate witches collided with the horses dead on, impaling the steeds through the head, but snapping their own means of flight into pieces in one fell swoop. Their bodies, along with the bodies of dismounted and dead knights, began to drop down to the channel below. Some of the ones who managed to stay conscious during the drop even managed to either cushion their falls on the water that they might continue the fight, or they didn’t even bother, and went to start fights amidst the freezing waters as the “fight” instinct took over “flight.” You couldn’t drown a vampire in the traditional sense, and you couldn’t freeze one to death either, but wands, tomes, and casting charms worked just as well underwater as they did above. </p><p> </p><p>But of course, the heaviest of fighting was in the air. Hedge witches and smaller covensworn sorcerers alike battled in haphazard duos, trios, or in larger groups as engagements began and ended in the span of moments. In one instant, a witch might be tailing one of the knights, and then in the next, that same witch is getting cut off by a different vampire, couched lance at the ready, only for that very same vampire to be blitzed from above and…. On and on did the dizzying engagement go, with no clear winners or losers being decided in any particular fight until one of them was either dismounted or dead, and this was only the rearguard being engaged. Be that as it was, the witches and Fae had an immediately clear advantage in terms of numbers, for the rearguard was just that, a contingency; they were hardly equipped to handle a full frontal charge from nearly a hundred strong witches: </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell himself managed to make quick work of a trio of closely flying combatants, one garish dressed vampire lord with a collar like a peacock, flanked by two of his trusted knights. <em> “Gaia Gher!” </em>With his staff held out in both hands, he shot forth an arcane bolt that struck the lordly vampire just before they managed to get in close to Maxwell, though nothing happened, and so the vampires confidently raised throw axes and swords to cleave down upon the old hunter. However, their strikes were misplaced, as were their assumptions that an elderly man like him wouldn’t be able to fly with grace. Maxwell ducked his broom just beneath the galloping hooves of the undead steeds and left the trio of knights to fight on, annoyed, but oh so ignorant of just how doomed they were. </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell sat himself upright once he was in the clear and enacted the second part of the incant: <em> “Gaia Gorn! Earthen anchor!” </em> A quick glance over his shoulder showed the fruits of his labor: The lordly vampire suddenly began to sprout an earthen shell sprouting from his chest where the bolt struck him. He fumbled and scrambled to break it, but the stones were manifesting all too quickly, and in their confusion, the knights failed to realize that the rocks were spreading from their master and his steed to their own armor. It took only five more seconds before the flying horses could go no more, their riders turned to crude chunky statues, and the horses themselves quickly succumbed to that same fate; alive and awake inside, but unable to escape. The three statues fell to the channel as a malformed boulder, creating a huge splash on impact, and prompting a knee jerk fist pump from the old hunter. <em> “I’ve still got it!” </em> And there was more where that came from!</p><p> </p><p>Meanwhile, Beck and his boys remained the most cohesive of the bunch, defying all assumptions that they were a bunch of undisciplined drunkards. No, instead they rode as a militant biker gang given dominion over the air, their faces obscured by bandanas, hockey masks, welding shields, and hell even American football helmets, armed with whatever they damn near pleased. One hooligan in a ski mask managed to clobber one of the knights they were riding down with a swift strike to the dome, while another used his wand to disarm a distracted vampire so as to take the sword for himself. The now weaponless vampire turned away from his initial quarry in shock, only to find his sword returned to him via a stab to the heart; the warrior screeched and vaporized in a quick-burning blaze, leaving his now dusty armor to clatter to the channel floor. Beck, of course, was the meanest bastard his gang had, and he proved that fact with surprising enginuity, accuracy, and strength: </p><p> </p><p>He dashed aside blow after blow of sword and lance with his enchanted cricket bat as he shot forward through the battle with his squadron of bully-boys. Just as they were coming up on the edges of the engagement and prepared to make a turn though, a frenzied knight, whose silver helm was adorned by a feathery plume, no doubt suggesting some superiority in rank, swooped down from a far and poised himself to dismount the lead hooligan with a couched spear and raised shield. Beck bit his lower lips and widened his grin in response: “THINK YOUR HARD DO YAH!?” The unholy neighing of the knights charging horse certainly spoke to that assumption; an assumption Beck was going to prove dead wrong. “COME ON THEN!” He dug inside his jacket and pulled out a queerly designed cricket ball, marked by several lunar runes, all translating into words related to the concept of <em> “perpetual motion,” </em>and tossed it up in the air. </p><p> </p><p><em> “ARS…!” </em> Beck readied his bat, winding up the strike, and let loose with an arcane word: <em> “Spirola!” </em> A crack of his unwieldy bat against the ball sent it shooting toward the knight just as the two were about to collide. Before that clash could occur though, Beck pulled up hard on his broom, flying right over the charge as his attack connected with the knight’s shield. Any normal cricket ball would have just bounced off, but this was no normal cricket ball, and it sure as hell wasn’t hit by any normal swing: No, beck was about to teach this vampire the meaning of the words “top spin.” </p><p> </p><p>The ball collided with the shield, but it seemed to stick to it, yet its motion never stopped. The knight buckled under the surprising weight of the blow, and despite all his best efforts to push it aside, the ball just kept spinning! Spinning and spinning, growing hotter and hotter with every revolution, faster by the moment, but the ball never seemed to wear itself down. The same couldn’t be said about the shield though. Cracks started to form in the metal, spreading out wide and far, creeping like vines as the vampire hissed and yelled in a rage as he struggled with all his might to fight off the damnable orb. His struggle ended in vain when the ball shattered the shield, shooting right through it, and proceeded to do the same unfortunate bit of grinding to the knights face. His helmet became as mangled as a head-crushed soda can, and his face became unrecognizable in about five seconds before the ball finally relented, popped up, and landed in Beck’s free hand as he came back around to finish the job with a drive by beating to the head. “FORE!” Wrong sport, but his heart was in the right place, and the knight’s body was now also in the right place: On its way down toward the water. </p><p> </p><p>All of this righteous violence on part of the witches though was but one tale of the tape. Outnumbered and caught off guard as they were, the vampires shrugged off plenty of other wounds that would have disabled “lesser” men, and their inhuman strength was not to be underestimated. One witch saw her life ended when she raised her staff to block a down swinging halberd, only for the polearm’s bladed head to cleave right through and lodge itself in her skull with a sickening crack, only to be wrenched out in the next instant as the knight kept flying on. Another witch was tossed from his broom after being caught unawares by the couched lance of a flanking knight, and at least eight other valiant souls met their end within the opening minute of the engagement. And this was only the beginning; the battle with the rearguard. The vanguard forces may have been given the slip, but it would take far more than a smokescreen and a fancy bit of aerial acrobatics to deter the Bathory’s main assault. </p><p> </p><p>From the black plume of smoke did they ride out to catch up with the witches. The vampiric riders pushed their undead steeds to the limit, whipping and kicking incessantly in order to join the fight. Amanda caught sight of them early and managed to lead Constanze and Lotte through the battle so that they could link up with Maxwell. “Behind us!” She shouted over, prompting the Scottish hunter to turn his head and witness the incoming charge. </p><p> </p><p>“Damnit!” Maxwell was hoping, much like Constanze, that their speedy gambit would have given them more time. “We can’t just let ‘em hammer us from the rear! Amanda, Constanze!” The hunter and smith focused up, looking between the air ahead of them as the group made a roundabout turn to redirect toward the oncoming assault. “Rally as many as you can! Meet their charge head on! I’ll worry about finishing up these stragglers.” </p><p> </p><p>“Mm!” Constanze gave a quick thumbs up before Maxwell broke off to aid a witch engaged in an aerial duel. “Lotte!” Constanze shot a glance back over her shoulder, finding her friend to still be shell shocked. “LOTTE!” </p><p> </p><p>“Ahhh!” The shout prompted both her and Malitrix to fire off a Murowa blast from their wand and eyes respectively; the random strike was lucky enough to unsteady a sneaky vampire who had been looking to charge the trio from the right. It struck his steed on the forehead, mortally wounding it, and sending it swaying and galloping in random directions; easy pickings for allied witches to take out. “W-Wha—!? Huh!?” Lotte looked around frantically, as if she'd suddenly been teleported into this daring situation. </p><p> </p><p>“Verdammt Lotte! Stay alert!” </p><p> </p><p>“S-Sorry!” Lotte managed a firm nod now that she’d been snapped out of the initial shock. “I’m with you guys!” </p><p> </p><p>“You better be!” Shouted Amanda. “Cuz things are about to get hot!” She held Carnwennan up high to fire off another flare, a pink one this time. “OOOOIII! FORM UP ON ME!” The witches and Fae who could afford to join up with Amanda did so, forming an aerial mob of about fifty or so souls in total in about a minute’s time. Now at the head of said mob, Amanda pointed them dead on toward the fast approaching vanguard of the Bathory’s army. “REMEMBER! STAY LOOSE! STAY QUICK! AND AIM FOR THEIR HEADS AND HEARTS!” </p><p> </p><p><em> “Heads and hearts…! Heads and hearts…!” </em> Lotte had to mantra it to herself just to ground and ready herself for this second charge. She held her wand up with both hands, if it were the first time she’d ever fired off anything even mildly dangerous from it, while Malitrix’s eyes glowed with her selfsame magicks. <em> “We can do this!” </em>Lotte guessed this is what Amanda meant by “faking it until you made it.” </p><p> </p><p>The second clash was inevitable now, but no silence was able to grace the moments right before the two forces collided. Instead, they barrelled toward each other doggedly, hatefully, with wands, firearms, hand-weapons raised against the knightly armaments of the vampires. Constanze was the first to shed blood, followed swiftly by several gun toting witches who unleashed two quick bursts of bullets and blasts toward their armored foes. Some shots went wide, others dug uselessly into non-essential flesh, only for the wound to be regenerated, and others were threaded through the slits of a knight’s armor, entering the skull one end, and leaving the other. Constanze’s slugs were far messier on impact, leaving no head to even be penetrated on one poor bastard; just a stump burning with bright blue arcane cinders. </p><p> </p><p>Then came the wandfire; Murowas, electric zaps, curses, flaming bolts, ice shards, alchemical transmogs, it was a dizzying and deadly rainbow of spells. Amanda and Lotte both added their own spells to that same torrent, the former of which doing so with fiery gusto, and the latter rigidly casting Murowas off as best she could in concert with Malitrix. Again, more knights were dismounted, disabled, or had perished before they could even get into melee, but at worst, only a small portion of their force had been laid low, and they were more than ready to repay the witches in kind. </p><p> </p><p>Steel flashed in the light of lightning strikes from the false storms about castle Bathory as knights, lords, and ladies sent their biting steel deep into the flesh of the unworthy mortals. Overwhelming numbers had allowed the witches to take the rearguard with ease, turning the initial clash heavily in their favor; they enjoyed no such pleasantries now. Instead, dozens died in an instant as limbs were severed, chests were gored, and guts were rent open with upward slashes. Amanda herself nearly lost her head were it not for a well executed parry with both of her blades as she and vampire crossed paths. Constanze relied on ducking and dodging around a pair of ladies with ornate halberds. She was forced to break away from the formation temporally just to stay safe, leaving Lotte and Amanda to fend for themselves while Constanze fought her way back toward them through the Chaos. </p><p> </p><p>Lotte to her credit, fared well on the charge, as she managed to snap a spear in half with a warding spell. The force of the knight’s own weapon colliding with such a powerfully desperate magical barrier sent her somersaulting over his own steed as it galloped along. Lotte only opened her eyes when she heard the knight’s screams start to fade. <em> “I… got him? </em> As horribly as it went, Lotte didn’t learn <em> nothing </em> from her time spent training with Amanda. <em> “Oh thank go </em>—AAAAAHD!” Her inner speech became outer shouting as she caught sight of another knight making a go on her life. Her immediate instinct was to hold her wand up, but some sort of mental jam stopped the magic from flowing. Her eyes shut tight, expecting the worse, only for Amanda’s voice to ring in her ears. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Igneousera!” </em>A bolt of pure heat shot over Lotte’s head, nearly setting her own orange hair on fire, and striking the opportunistic vampire hard in the chest. He reeled and keeled over, swinging his sword far too early out of sheer pain as his dreadsteed screamed past the two witches; wounded, but not dead. Worse yet, he was recovering somewhat quickly, and his overshot course just so happened to send him into the perfect position to off a different witch from above. “Oh hell no! Come on Lotte!”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait! Where—?” Lotte didn’t have time to even think about the rest of her question before Amanda was dive bombing after the wounded knight, and so Lotte was forced to follow. “Ah! Um! M-Murowa! Murowa!” Hastily, she fired off two arcane shots at the back of the knight they were now tailing. One struck the hind leg of the horse, and the other struck the knight’s back, further crippling him and his steed. It was the perfect set up for Amanda to finish him off. </p><p> </p><p>The firebrand witch, with hair that seemed to wave and dance like flames themselves, threw Carnwennan dead ahead, though she was never aiming for the rider himself. The dagger flew just over his head, far beyond him, and was then engulfed in a plume of black smoke as Amanda materialized with all of her prior momentum. By the time the knight realized what had happened, “WAAG—!” It was too late for him. Amanda flew past him, dismounted and airborne, her arms crossed about her chest so that they were opposite, and cleanly removed his head from his shoulders with a combined stroke of her twin blades. </p><p> </p><p>Lotte gasped, her heart nearly stopping. Was Amanda an idiot!? A stunt like that seemed suicidal, and it probably was, but if there was any witch who was wholly in sync with whatever broom she rode, it was Amanda-Freakin-O’Neill. Amanda herself sailed past Lotte at first, but her broom did a sharp U-turn and sped itself toward its plummeting rider. Amanda was of course directing the broom, and so she was hardly surprised when it flew right over her head, went perpendicular to her body, and buckled hard as she slammed back into a riding position. In fact, it was exhilarating. “Yeahahah! Yes!” There was taking pride in her work, and there was dishing out her roguish brand of justice with style. She much preferred the latter. </p><p> </p><p>“A-Amanda!” Lotte sure as hell didn’t though. Mostly because things were already dangerous enough! “Look out!” A trio of knights, having just slaughtered one poor witch, had set their sights on Amanda’s motionless broom. </p><p> </p><p>“Ah, shit! Phos!” Amanda fixed that problem quickly, getting back up to speed with a few bursts of wind from Carnwennan, but the threat remained. They tailed her hard, pushing their steeds even further so as to try and make reaching swipes at Amanda’s back, necessitating careful dodging and weaving. None of this was made easier by the fact that the whole sky was alight with magic missiles, spell bolts, bullets and blades, making every moment one in which life could be striupped away from a careless twitch or from a wayward shot of friendly fire. Lotte did her best to follow Amanda and her three stalking enemies, but she was hardly as good of a flier as any of them, so she ended up getting lost amidst the chaos, scrambling for any allies to stay close to and aid in their efforts. </p><p> </p><p>Left and right, up and down, Amanda had to jerk her broom all sorts of awkward ways just to weave through the airborne melee while not getting an axeblade to the back. She tried pulling loops, but these three vampires were a crafty bunch, and they always had it so that one trailed farther behind than the others so that he could react to whatever fancy acrobatics Amanda did in order to cut her off dead. She was lucky to get away from his cleaving claymore the first time, and didn’t dare chance a second. The only moment she managed to get to retaliate was when they reached the “top” of the dogfight, high up above the rest of the battle, allowing Amanda to turn her head around and aim one well placed spell. <em> “Ars Implodera!” </em>A small section of air suddenly grew heavy, tight, and tense with gravity. The lead knight was most unfortunate to enter that space just as the implosion set in, turning his horse into many horse pieces, and himself into a mangled body sent far and away. The resounding force of the implosion and the smoke that settled after deterred the latter knights as well, buying Amanda a chance to turn around on them and get her bearings. </p><p> </p><p>First her body ran through its own condition: <em> “Any new scars?” </em> Her heart was beating harder than it ever had, and her chest burnt with a familiar but still foreign flame. Every once in a while, she would blink and her eyes would be orange or pink or red before changing back to their natural green. She wasn’t wounded though, just a bit winded, if only from the adrenaline. <em> “Ok… now for tweedle dumb and tweedle dip-shit!” </em> She scanned the space beneath her and found it a mess of battles far and away, only to look up and find the two knights who remained to chase her at a similar altitude to Amanda herself. They too needed a moment to regroup, not because their bodies ever tired, but because their minds needed to make sense of a plan too. It wasn’t long though before they were brandishing their weapons and thumping their chests to challenge the flamingo haired hunter. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda exhaled heavily and shook the shivers out of her arms. <em> “Two on one it is then.” </em>She crossed her blades against each other in an X and ran the edges along one another; Dyrnwyn at the front, Carnwennan at the back. Sparks flew from her weapons in a confident display of her own; the challenge was accepted, and so the knights whipped their steeds into a renewed frenzy:</p><p> </p><p>“FOR THE QUEEN AND CROWN!”</p><p> </p><p>“DEATH TO THE UNLOYAL” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda returned no such war cry, and instead put her words into true action: <em> “Phos! Phos!” </em> Her broom shot forth to meet the galloping dread steeds, and Dyrnwyn clashed against the Bathory steel with a resounding <em> CLANG! </em>The three combattants performed a figure eight on their first go around, with Amanda veering hard to the left to turn, and the vampires rounding the right. Another pass saw Amanda get a glancing blow on the gut of the axe wielding foe, while she barely ducked a sword swipe that managed to cut a few of her hairs off and scatter them to the wind. Again, the two groups came to a halt, with the wounded vampire slowly recuperating from his wound as it mended itself. Amanda wiped her clear of sweat as she tried to work out a quick way to get an advantage, but her eyes did all the work for her when she caught another witch shooting up from the melee’s below. “Heh, too easy….” She muttered to herself and readied her dagger for another blast of Phos spells, thrusting herself forward the moment the vampires resumed their assault. </p><p> </p><p>Just as before, it seemed like they were going to clash as two against one, but the rising witch form below, the navy coated Constanze, turned the tables with three pumps of her blaster. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> BANG-CHK! BANG-CHK! BANG-CHK!  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Amidst the charge, the rear vampire, the one with the axe, saw his horse taken out from below by two slugs to its gut, and one slug to sever its right wing, causing it to flail and froth as its false life exited its body. He flailed and struggled in his own hopeless way as he began to plummet, while the front most vampire lapsed in his attention for just a moment, distracted by the death of his comrade, affording Amanda the perfect opportunity. She used a fancy bit of broomwork and spells to spin herself just as she reached the vampire, all while still astride the magicked stick. She used that motion and momentum to perform three spinning quick-strikes, one from Carnwennan to slit the throat, and two more from Dyrnwyn across the Vampire’s heart, ended with a forth coup de grace, a slower, but more intentional spinning strike from Carnwennan, though the blade was not her weapon: <em> “Typerhious Phos!” </em>The blade created a shockwave of wind that buffeted the dying knight downward as his body began to disintegrate into ash, and his horse flailed for stability. </p><p> </p><p>Now freed from combat, Amanda swiveled herself around to catch her sister on the updraft, just as the German witch halted her own broom and leveled out. “I was wondering where you went!” Said Amanda as she caught her breath. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmm.” Constanze shook her head and waved dismissively; they had both escaped from worse. “Mmmm?” Constanze looked about hastily, fear rising in her as she found no sight of Lotte. “Where is she?!”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda bit her lower lips and joined in the search. “Fuck! She was behind me when these freaks started chasing me!” Not a trace of her seemed to be left from where Constanze and Amanda flew. “She’s gotta be—!” Not until Lotte’s cry for help rang out from below. “Lotte! Amanda and Constanze vocalized their friend’s name in unison and dive bombed back into fray within that same motion. They dodged past darting witches, braying steeds, and roaring knights with hawkish precision, firing off the occasional spell along the way to either clear a path, or defend themselves en route to where they could hear Lotte shouting from.</p><p> </p><p>Finally, once they were down near the core of the buzzing conflict, Constanze caught sight of the orange coated and orange haired witch they’d been searching for. “There!” Constanze pointed Lotte out: </p><p> </p><p>She was flying for her life, tailing one vampire knight as they dueled with a witch who wielded a spectral, summoned sword, while also being chased herself by a lady dressed for royal court, but armed for a butchering with an executioner's axe. <em> “Murowa! Altora! Ansoul Ignera!” </em>Arcane darts, harsh waves of musical notes meant to daze, and the bright white and blue spirit flames spilled from Lotte’s wand in a dizzying torrent as she cycled through just about every spell she could think of that could have any chance of saving her. Malitrix owed her power to each, but despite her best efforts, the lady vampire was a sharp flier, and a determined killer. She deflected the Murowa blasts with the flat side of her axe head, pushed through the brain shaking pains of the shrill Altora notes, and dodged her dreadsteed just below the spookily visaged flame that had been sent her way, all while licking her fangs and lips with psychotically wild eyes. </p><p> </p><p>The sight sickened Constanze, reminding her all too much of the man, no, the <em> monster </em> that would no doubt confront them this very morning. She readied her blaster and bade Amanda to follow her. “Mmm!” They both had to make turns so tight they were nearly right angles just to get on track with catching up to the train of combatants, but once they were on the hunt there was no shaking them. </p><p> </p><p>The mad lady vampire pushed her steed further and further, growing closer to Lotte by the moment, and raising her axe up high to slake her mad hunger. “PERISH, VERMI—!” Suddenly though, she felt a different kind of cold going through her; not the cold of death, the cold of the wind. Pain shot up her body as if she’d been impaled, a sensation she hadn’t known since turning. She looked down to find a round hole made by an arcane slug in her chest. In the next moment, another slug took off the top part of her skull while Amanda shot on past her, the wind screeching from her speed. </p><p> </p><p>“NONONON—!” Lotte herself nearly shot her flamingo haired friend as she came up on her, but managed to open her tightly shut eyes just enough to see the young hunter breezing past her to aid the witch ahead of them. Now outnumbered, the knight caught a deep wound across the waist from Amanda, caught unawares, allowing for the spectral sword wielding witch to remove his hand and then stab at his heart, turning him to ashes. “A-Amanda! Constanze!” Lotte couldn’t be more relieved. </p><p> </p><p>And the spectral sword wielding witch was grateful too. “Thanks for that!” She broke off with a quick salute and went to seek a new target. </p><p> </p><p>The trio regrouped in the meanwhile, fighting off any attacks as they got their bearings of the battlefield. “Maxwell!” Amanda yelled into her dagger as it emitted a small glow at the tip. “Are you finished with the stragglers!?” </p><p> </p><p>Maxwell eventually responded, the sounds of spells muffling his words. “Just about! We’re linking up with you now!”  </p><p> </p><p>“How’s it look from where you are!? Kinda hard to tell if we’re winnin’ from inside this mess!” Amanda had to lower her dagger to ready a block against a passing knight’s sword. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s looking even!” A pause followed by a blast of magic disrupted his words. “—Can’t afford an even fight! We’re on the back foot as is!”</p><p> </p><p>“We know!” Constanze retorted as she sent a few shots into distant dogfights as they flew by. “Harper! Status!” Her eyes went to the east then as her ears listened in for Harper’s reply. </p><p> </p><p>“WE’RE NEARLY THERE!” And indeed, the fireplumes and bright lights to the east spoke to that truth. “KILLING THE BURN  N—” The only problem was the storm of fire that came right after; a veritable wall made of cycloning, burning death. It started out small, relatively speaking, as a thin pillar reaching into the air, before it expanded out with a terrible gust of elemental magic. “BREAK! BREAK DAMNIT! BREAK!” The connection became garbled, and Constanze initially feared the worst, but keen eyes could clearly see the tiny shadows of the distant witches as they pulled up hard to avoid the wall of flame. “Bloody hell!” Harper came back on the line, desperate for breath. “When did they get to do THAT!?” </p><p> </p><p>“This power…!” The Matron Sorcererss came over the line then, similarly winded, but also disturbed in some deeper way. “I’ve never seen anything like it!” Constanze couldn’t know, but the Matron was looking up at the wall of fire, mortified and all too curious about the energies she could see with her altered sight. “Whatever it is, it is a foul thing that taints the air!” The eld energies empowering The Twin Fates was unmistakable. “There’s no way we can go around it!”</p><p> </p><p>“Over it!?” Asked Constanze as she wrenched her blaster up to take a potshot as a passing knight, winging his mace-wielding hand. </p><p> </p><p>“No dice!” Answered Harper. “It’s curving too far! Either we’re flying right into that castle, or we’re going around!” </p><p> </p><p>“U-Um!” Lotte chimed in now that she’d found a moment to speak. “They should come here! W-We need the help! And fast! Really fast! ACH!” Lotte held her wand out stiffly, aiming it at a knight charging in from the flanks. <em> “Ansoul Ignera!” </em> With her words came a flash of spirited sparks, and from the mouth of Malitrix came a baleful spirit-flame! It screamed out toward the knight, its face marked by the vague shape of a toothy and angered spectre. It engulfed the knight from the waist up, prompting screams and flailing attempts to put the burning out; all to no avail. “LIKE, YESTERDAY!” </p><p> </p><p>“I’m with Lotte on this!” Amanda steered the trio to the periphery of the battle, buying them more space. “Harper! Glassy eyed lady! Get your gang over here and help us reinforce the center! Maxy!”</p><p> </p><p>The old hunter replied: “Aye!?” </p><p> </p><p>“You take over from here! We’ve done enough damage, and with Harper’s crew coming by, we should be able to turn this fight on its head!” Amanda pointed Dyrnwyn toward the island. “We’ve gotta make for the dome if ever want a chance to win this though!”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmm!” Constanze interjected. “Benjy!?” The words came too fast, but the full question was of course: <em> “What about Benjy!?” </em></p><p> </p><p>“What about Benjy!?” How Benjamin was able to parse the full question from such a distance, and without much other context, was beyond everyone. He was talking over the magical link tho, likely having snatched up a spare wand just for that. “We’re handlin’ ourselves fine ovah here!” A lie, but also not; Benjy had strange definitions of the words “fine,” and “safe.” </p><p> </p><p>“Last we saw you were getting fucked over by a god damn sea snake! How the hell are you fine!” </p><p> </p><p>“I’VE FISHED UP WORSE!” The terrible groaning of his ship followed. </p><p> </p><p>“We’re! Gah! Maintaining our course!” The Warlock Superior, Izak, confirmed as much. “Serpents aside, my coven is keeping the rabble at bay! Focus on your objective and we’ll focus on ours! RAH!” He clearly entered a struggle of sorts. <em> “GRIMALKA!” </em>His bellowing of the spell quickly turned into lion like roaring, immediately preceding his disconnect from the link. </p><p> </p><p>“You heard the man-cat! GO!” Benjamin let himself off the line too, his orders as clear as the day that would hopefully soon come. For now though, the darkness of twilight yet ruled. </p><p> </p><p>“God… damnit! Alright, Fine!” Amanda had no patience for arguing right now, and neither did Constanze. “Maxy! Harper! Weird star lady! We’re headed for the island!” </p><p> </p><p>“So it shall be.” Even now, The Matron Sorceress managed a strange sense of calm, though the disgust in her voice at all the eld powers in the air could not be masked. “Go with them, Harper. Take a small group and meet them there. They will need the assistance.” </p><p> </p><p>“On it.” Harper whistled Dino and Drew over to her flanks. “Amanda, Lotte, Constanze: We’ll meet you at the dome. Shoot up a flare of somethin’ so we can find you easier.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mm. Stay safe.” Constanze veered her broom toward the island, beckoning her friends along. “This way! Ready boosts!” </p><p> </p><p>“R-Right!” Lotte would take any excuse to get away from this particular engagement. </p><p> </p><p>“Oi, oi!” Amanda however had reservations. “I don’t gotta worry about going too fast, but you guys? What about your brooms!?” Even as she voiced her concerns, she joined Lotte and Constanze as they flew off and away from the swarming aerial combat. </p><p> </p><p>“Calculated risk!” Retorted Constanze. “Now get ready!” It was do or die time; no use meandering about. The three witches were lined up in the air, wands and dagger at the ready respectively, eyes forward toward their besieged home. “On my mark!” Jaws tightened, knuckles tensed. “Three!” Amanda’s eyes focused and hardened. She blinked twice, her eyes flashing like little fires. “Two!” Lotte took a deep breath, one she feared may be her last. Malitrix flashed her a comforting message, inscrutable in meaning, but clear in intent. “One!” Constanze felt her own anger rise for a moment, like a volcano set to erupt, sounding to the din of the battle behind them, and the song of the forge that ever followed her. </p><p> </p><p><em> “TIA INFERNA!” </em>Constanze and Lotte’s brooms burst forward in a gout of flame. </p><p> </p><p><em> “TYPHERIOUS PHOS!” </em>While Amanda’s shot forward, propelled by a veritable typhoon of wind. </p><p> </p><p>Together, their streams formed a storm, one that was fastly approaching the Bathory’s final lines of defense, heralding the fall of their monarchy for the second and last time. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Hmmph.” Constantin hardly perceived them as such. “A trio of interlopers…. Is that all they can muster?” He lowered his watchful eye from his spyglass and scanned the battlefield broadly. As far as the main engagement was concerned, Constantin was confident, maybe not in an <em> immediate </em> victory, but in the certainty that the witches would be ground down too heavily to continue the larger siege with any chance of success. <em> “To that end…. Let us see how The Fates have fared.” </em>The commanding vampire pressed his spyglass back up to his eye and looked to the west. </p><p> </p><p>The mist was still heavy there, so assessing the situation was difficult, to say the least, but he could clearly see lights, both magical and mundane, piercing through the miasma. “A vessel of sorts…? Intriguing.” He had neither heard nor seen any particularly impressive explosions, so a militant vessel was unlikely. “For what purpose might it serve…?” He was almost wondering if he over-committed to the perceived threat of a third flank by sending Chaos, but then again, he also couldn’t tell if they were even winning. <em> “The fact they’re still fighting at all over there bodes ill for our strategy….” </em>He was hoping Chaos and the beasts of the sea would have made quick work of their foes; he had need of them elsewhere, the east specifically. </p><p> </p><p>Speaking of, his optics quickly shifted eastward, and he found himself quite perturbed by the sight. “Wretches….” He could see another group of witches making a sly break for the island while the rest of the ground was funneled into the center, just as Constantin planned. “Send word to Will,” Constantin lowered his spyglass. “The prophesied breach in our lines has come. They may lower the barrier, but they won’t live to tell of it.” A winged haemonculus sat on the edge of the balcony eagerly, like a fleshy gargoyle. “Have I made myself clear?” It nodded rapidly, as if it was seizing up. “Then go!” Constantin waved it off, and so it lept from its perch and swooped down to find Will among the forest surrounding foliage. </p><p> </p><p>“Hmmmm….” Constantin afforded himself one last look over the field before he returned to his war-table. He moved a few pieces around to match the current state of affairs as Katalin paced just across from him. “Any word from our queen yet?”</p><p> </p><p>Katalin sighed sharply. “No, not yet.” She fanned herself incessantly, catching glances of the battlefield map as Constantin adjusted it. “Would it not be wise to send some of our airborne slaves to further grind down the central force?” </p><p> </p><p>“I’m considering that.” Constantin weighed the options carefully. “I fear that, given the supposed guarantee of the dome falling, we may have to redouble our aerial supremacy just over the academy if we are to maintain control.” Katalin grumbled and shook her head, neither disagreeing nor agreeing with it. “Speaking of headaches,” Constantin gflanced up at Katalin, following her pacing visage closely. “What about Nikolai? He’s a brute to be certain, but a valuable force commander.” </p><p> </p><p>Katalin scoffed at the mention. “God only knows, and maybe even then….” </p><p> </p><p>“Say what you will of him, but he’s no coward.” Constantin stood up straight and more directly addressed the favored daughter of Bathory. “He’s still among us, of that I’m certain.”</p><p> </p><p>“I agree.” Katalin froze up and took a deep breath, venting some of her anxieties. “I’m mostly worried he’s going to do something stupidly daring that ends up bungling our entire defense.”</p><p> </p><p>“I highly doubt that.” Constantin chuckled and shook his head. “If what you told me is true, he’ll be far too busy seeking out his quarry to bother himself with battlefield tactics.” He then placed a chess piece on the board, a black knight, symbolized by a horse head with leathery bat-wings flaring up from the base. “And if my intuition is right….” He slowly moved the knight piece toward the center of the battlefield. “He’ll cut a bloody path if it means even a chance at redemption.” Constantin could almost see it now: Nikolai rampaging through the schools, certain that his foe had made it inside and undone the barrier. He wouldn’t be a controllable asset, but he would be a deadly one, and that is all the wiser commander needed of him. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The brooms’ hairs began to bristle and smolder. The S-P2 strands were running thin, having been burnt down to the straw stubs. Constanze threw a fist up and waved it desperately toward her friends, signalling for them to stop as they came upon the ruined cliffs of the isle, the place where the not-tower never stood. Their brooms sputtered and slowed, not Amanda’s of course, but Lotte’s and Constanze’s broom had both burned out, their efficiency and speed reduced practically by half. But they had to keep going though, for the forest ahead was no doubt crawling with all sorts of poor creatures, forced to fight against their will, and in some cases, their basic nature. Their foray into the foliage was easy going at first, and the trio took full advantage of this reprieve:</p><p> </p><p>“Oi…” Amanda caught her breath and senses in the strangely calm moments that followed. “You guys alright?” She let her hands off of the broom and shook them loose of any tension and tingling. </p><p> </p><p>“Ugh….” Constanze shook her head clear of those same fuzzy feelings. “Good enough.” She kept a tight grip of her broom though, warry that at any moment, the trees might part to reveal a deadly foe. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m…” Lotte had to double check just to make sure she had all of her limbs. Malitrix gave her a blink, as if it were a “thumbs up.” The former sighed with relief. “Ok… I’m ok!” </p><p> </p><p>“At least something’s gone right for us.” Amanda paused to pull out an arcane crystal from her bandolier. She crushed it in her hands and took a deep breath as the pick-me-up of arcane power surged through her. “Ohhh-kay…. Alright. Now we need to make it inland.” A brief glance down at Carnwennan saw her pull it out and speak into it as the group quietly whisked themselves through the treeline. “Harper, how’re you making it?” </p><p> </p><p>Silence followed, only to be interrupted a few moments later. “We just hit the island—”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, you could say that again!” Drew had his complaints of course. “We damn near turned ourselves into red smears on the bloody cliffs!” </p><p> </p><p>“Can’t see you.” Constanze looked about carefully; no dice. “Probably more east to us, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“I think so….” Harper hesitated to claim anything for certain. “I’d send out a flare now but…. Well, I’m worried that’ll just draw the whole island to us.”</p><p> </p><p>Dino spoke loudly over the wand: “We can take ‘em! I mean, <em> not in a fight </em>, but we can totally outrun a few angry Fae and monsters!”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh yeah?” Drew scoffed and schuckled. “Taken a look at your broom bristles lately?” A few moments of silence followed. </p><p> </p><p>“Mierda, you weren’t kidding about the whole burnout thing….”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze but in to get the group on track. “Doesn’t matter. Stick to the original plan. Quick and quiet; shoot up a flare once you reach the edge of the dome. The group that hasn’t reached it by then will link up with the first.” </p><p> </p><p>“Finally, a sensible plan….” Grumbled Drew. </p><p> </p><p>“Got it, Constanze. We’ll see you soon.” Harper cut the line then and focused her team on the task ahead, as did Constanze. </p><p> </p><p>“Stay low and stay alert,” She readied her blaster and kept it raised as her broom cruised deeper into the forest. “We’ll book it if we’re spotted.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda drew her swords again and kept them at ease. “Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes to get to the school…. Hopefully.”</p><p> </p><p>Lotte decided to unhinge Malitrix then, holding her skully-companion by a handle alongside her wand, much like she would her old skull-lantern. “U-Um, shouldn’t we… try and find the road?” The darkness of the false-storm above them was all consuming, and it made the forest even more perilous to venture through. “It’s getting really dark and… and we might get lost.” Lotte looked over her shoulder. The sun seemed like it was still hours away from rising, though Lotte knew it might only be ten to twenty minutes before the first rays began to grace them. </p><p> </p><p>“Hmmm….” Constanze considered the suggestion, weighing the ups and downs. “The roads might be more dangerous…. Hard to say.” Maybe that’s expected of them, or maybe the defences are more robust; proper battle lines, scattered ambushes. This forest was minefield through and through. </p><p> </p><p>“Maybe we can stick along the side paths?” Asked Amanda. “We can follow the road but not be out in the open.” </p><p> </p><p>“Mm.” A simple but effective compromise. “Mhmm.” Constanze nodded to her sister. <em> “Lead on.” </em> Wordlessly, Amanda accepted her role at the head of the trifecta, and veered the group off toward the road. They kept their brooms just above the brush, but just below the canopy. Tree cover may favor them more, but it was too thick on either altitude to afford continued travel, and Nine knew what horrors actually lurked in those thickets to begin with. </p><p> </p><p>Time passed, minutes felt like hours. They crept along the path quickly, as quickly stealth would allow, and despite knowing the woods were full of creatures, it was quiet. Only the distant sounds of battle, and the occasional rustle of branches and bushes fell upon the triumvirates' ears. Often they would look toward the source and see nothing, but their brains couldn’t ever feel safe. The wind? Or a stalker? A stalker and the wind? How many? Did they see them? Who was truly hidden? Paranoia ran their blood cold, but on did they press. Eventually, the tension broke. Twigs snapped not too far away from the three reclaimers. There was no denying it now; something was upon them. Amanda felt her chest tighten as she ceased all breathing. Her swords shot up in an instant, held at a pointed and ready stance. Constanze similarly aimed her weapon at the distant thicket where the sound was heard, and Lotte held Malitrix out, her own face contorting in fear. Again, silence fell upon the wind, only to be broken shortly after by a voice unfamiliar to the reclaimers:</p><p> </p><p>“We should have known it would be you two….” Will’s voice surrounded them, came from within and without them. The three frightened witches looked about frantically, aiming at every which shadow and spectre that might contain the elusive speaker. “And a third…?” Will paused briefly, puzzling out Lotte’s relative identity. “Ah…. Of course.” She must have been a reclaimer as well. </p><p> </p><p>“Show yourself!” Amanda knew this witch was close, but where?</p><p> </p><p>“We give you one chance; one deal.” Will disregarded the demand. Instead, she would give them an ultimatum; another chance to perhaps guarantee the safety of the planet. “One of you must sacrifice yourselves. Or you must choose another of your cohort, and they will die in your stead…. Do this, and We will destroy the Bathorys, root and stem; leaves and branches.” Creatures began to stir in the darkness of the woods. A flash of lightning revealed their shadows, and their eyes, glowing red with hate, began to shine in the blackness. They climbed on trees, walked like men, crept like beasts, and one large group of eyes towered over the rest in a huge cluster, up somewhere in the canopy.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze didn’t waste another breath. She fired off a slug at one of the shadows, winging what seemed like a ghoulish half skeletal hound in the leg, but causing no lethal damage. The dog barked and rattled, but a sudden pressure came over the vale; a mental strain that even fell upon the cornered witches. “Yield, and listen.” Raging headaches came over them, but in a few moments they subsided, and allowed WIll to continue, if only out of necessity. Besides, the more time she prattled, the more time they’d have to plan an escape.  </p><p> </p><p> “Do this, sacrifice one of your own, and our slaves will be called off…. You, and your surviving kith and kin may go.” An unlikely gambit, but given the would-be betrayal of Bathory…. Well, Will wasn’t hedging her bets on any singular strategy working, and the opportunity to find the trio alone just so happened to present itself. </p><p> </p><p>“Why the fuck should we trust you!?” Amanda wasn’t about to take this lying down. “And who the hell do you think we are!?” Tiny cinders and sparks flew from Amanda’s lips and tongue, though she didn’t notice. “If you think we’d give each other up like that, then come down here so I can prove you dead wrong!” </p><p> </p><p>“Mmm!” Aggravating their foe was <em> likely </em> not helpful, but Amanda didn’t even register her sister’s call to focus. </p><p> </p><p>“T’would be in your best interest. In Our best interest. The best interest of all upon our planet.” Will wouldn’t give it up <em> just </em> yet. Perhaps these witches would see reason if presented with it. “We aim to prevent a calamity, a calamity set in motion by the very witches you uphold as your great leaders; the olde witches, as you call them.” Constanze went wide eyed, and Lotte similarly seemed taken aback. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Calamity... ? Made by the Nine?” </em>Constanze felt suspicion and doubt run through her body like blood. Lotte shivered all the same; was this a lie? It had to be, right? How could they trust a witch who sought their annihilation?</p><p> </p><p>Nevertheless, Will continued. “And to prevent it, one of you must—”</p><p> </p><p>“TO HELL WITH YOUR CALAMITY!” But Amanda wouldn’t let her finish. “And to hell with the Nine Olde Witches! I don’t give damn what kinda calamity they set up! Whatever it is, we’ll knock it flat on its ass!” Amanda grit her teeth as she roared her spiteful defiance. “But first, I’m starting with you! So come on down here and let me show you what a calamity feels like!” The wind whistled. The leaves trembled.</p><p> </p><p>The pressure came again, but this time, it was upon the earth itself, as if the gravity around them had increased. “So be it.” Will let out the quietest sigh, and thus did gravity return to normal. “End them.” And then she was gone, as if she was never there to begin with. </p><p> </p><p>The creatures lumbered forth. Trolls, elementals, grief stricken spirits, angered dryads and treants, lizardly men, strange insectoids, tricksters beings of all walks, and the biggest and worst of them all, that damnable hydra, emerged from the treeline. They had encircled the trio, and the lattermost monster, above all others, hungered on a deep, primal level. Its thundering footsteps toppled two smaller trees as it bruised forward, building anger until it would break into a charge. It left the reclaimers with one option: “RUN!” Constanze gave the order and shot her broom off in between a harpy and an imp, finding just enough space to squeeze by and make for the road. Lotte and Amanda didn’t need to be told twice. They followed the witch-smith closely, but not immediately. The harpy managed to slash up Lotte’s right shoulder as she passed by, and a many eyed frog managed to spit a hot wad of acidic goop onto Amanda’s back as she left. </p><p> </p><p>The former yelped and clutched her arm for life, worried for the worst, but blessed to find the wounds to be mostly superficial, while the later hissed and scrambled to wash it off. <em> “Aguria! Aguria!” </em>Summoned gouts of water allowed for a steady drip down the back of her coat, diluting the acidic muck and saving her any further pain. For mercy, her coat wasn’t all too ruined, but she could complain about stylings later.</p><p> </p><p>Down, up, over and around, every tree was an obstacle, and some even afforded a swing at the witches as they zoomed by, Lotte and Constanze especially. Amanda had to gimp her speed just to stay close to them, but that hydra was getting closer, and eventually, tree by tree, it would trample its way over and rip them to blood pieces. Amanda had to make a choice: “HOLD ON!” It wasn’t smart. </p><p> </p><p>“Wha—!?”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait w—!?”</p><p> </p><p><em> “TYPHERIOUS PHOS ELLERA!” </em>But it sure as shit was necessary. From the tips of her blades, Dyrnwyn and Carnwennan both, small tornadoes began to form. They grew and grew, billowing and swirling, until bursting out a few moments later in a mighty gust of wind that struck the butts of both Constanze’s and Lotte’s broom, propelling them forward at immense speeds, whether they liked it or not. Amanda on the other hand, got blown away by the backblast, and while the sight of her sister faded into darkness, her face both wrought with anger and fear directed at Amanda, the American hunter knew exactly what she was getting into. </p><p> </p><p><em> “SSSSSSHAAAA!” </em>The Hydra was bounding through the forest. Thorns and branches beared against its scaly skin snapped as if meeting an avalanche, and its eight hungry maws ravenously bit and thrashed every tree too thick to go down easily, tossing them aside like chew toys. Amanda was in its sights now, and dangerously close. It lunged at her, leaping into the air by about five feet, no small amount given how gargantuan it was, and bore all of its head on the witch as she continued to spiral back in reverse. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Alright….” </em> Amanda kept it cool though; like she always did. <em> “Hope this works!” </em> She held her dagger out to where she shot the first blast, <em> “TYPERIOUS PHOS ELLERA!” </em> And against all conventional wisdom, she fired <em> another </em> . The Hydra’s maws opened wide. Amanda gazed into them, but not for long. She was moving back <em> far </em> too fast to be caught now. She slid back, flying low, <em> low </em> to the ground, and ducking down as well. The many heads overshot their scattering bites, and so the hydra quite literally ate dirt, while Amanda kept flying backwards. Its jump ended up serving Amanda better as well, for it was because it managed to lunge so madly off the ground that Amanda was able to slide <em> just under </em> its body. The Hydra therefore, not only failed to catch its prey, but ended up tumbling forward in a series of tangled necks as it somersaulted once, shaking the earth when it came to a stop. Amanda grinned cockily, laughing in the face of death. “Damn I’m good!” And with that, she set her dagger back behind her as she adjusted course. <em> “Typerhious Ph </em> — <em> !” </em> The hydra was <em> far </em> from done though. It thrashed and writhed and lumbered itself back up by some miracle and biologally, coordination, and sheer dumb luck. <em> ”Mother… fucker!” </em> Before it could truly get back on its feet though, Amanda finished her incant. <em> “Phos! Phos! Phos!” </em> She left a cloud of dust in her wake, one that ended up being  dispersed quickly by the charging hordes of enslaved creatures, and the hydra soon after. </p><p> </p><p>Back in the thick of it, Amanda piloted herself expertly around the trees, following what seemed like the signs of her compatriots getaway deeper into the forest. Smoking trees, clearly shot by some arcane source, soul-fire cinders on the air, shreds of orange cloth that no doubt belonged to Lotte. Then came the be all end all of signs: A flare in the distance, green in color. “Harper!” Amanda exclaimed the witch’s name aloud she was so ecstatic. And if the flare was green, that was the <em> general </em> code for everything being alright. Amanda could only hope that flare was sent up cognizantly, and nout out of desperation, and so she spurred her broom even faster, firing off Phos after Phos to turn her into a smoking comet; smoke? Indeed, from her coattails came trails of smoke, and her hair similarly danced as if aflame. The fire inside her was growing stronger and stronger, but still it did not seem to have enough to properly ignite her soul. </p><p> </p><p>About a minute passed, mercifully without conflict, before Amanda arrived in a clearing by the edge of the dome, her comrades battle ready and tending to the titular matter of access. Amanda brought her broom to a screeching halt, necessitating further Phos spells in front of her, and from there she jumped off her broom and booked it for her friends. “Oi! How’re things going!?” She stumbled part way through when she got a death glare from Constanze. </p><p> </p><p>The look spoke for the hunter’s sister all on its own: <em> “Do something like that again, and I break your nose for real next time.” </em>A half empty threat, mostly borne out of sisterly concern. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh come on! That thing was gonna kill us all if I didn’t do that!” Amanda waved Dyrnwyn around in the general direction of where the hydra probably was.</p><p> </p><p>Constanze groaned loudly, shook her head, and dismissively waved Amanda to the side so that she could keep a watch on the path behind her with her blaster. “Would it kill you to warn me when you’re going to risk your life on a stunt?” </p><p> </p><p>“Well it was either I take a chance or—”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Not the point!” Constanze interjected. </p><p> </p><p>“G-Guys!” And Lotte shut down the prattling for good. “I need to focus!” She stood up close to the dome, holding her palms just an inch or two away from its surface with Malitrix floating by her side, levitated by a simple spell. “It’s not easy to talk to this spirit!” Indeed, the spirit of the Hologarium was a fickle thing, mostly because it slept like a log, but also because it understood reality in a… less than conventional way. </p><p> </p><p>Leaving Lotte to her business, Amanda sighed and approached the group, with Drew, Dino, and Harper all having their wands drawn and pointed down at some other flank or angle of the clearing’s edge, creating a defensive semicircle around Lotte. “Did you guys make it here ok?” She talked quieter now, in a normal voice, and caught her breath as she readied herself for any possible attacks. </p><p> </p><p>“Surprisingly well.” Harper nodded, biting her lower lip and exhaling methodically. “Barely faced any resistance at all. Seems we found a blindspot in their matrix.” </p><p> </p><p>“Or we got stupidly lucky.” Drolly remarked Drew. </p><p> </p><p>Dino scoffed. “Do you <em> always </em> gotta be a downer?” </p><p> </p><p>“Piss off.” Drew wasn’t in the mood for banter, for obvious reasons. “And stay focused. This isn’t a game, Dino.” He spoke as if he were Dino’s older brother, and the young Spaniard acquiesced. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda left them to their own bristling while she eyed Constanze until she earned a response. “Made it out fine.” Constanze nodded grimly. “Lotte’s hurt. Nothing bad. She’ll be ok.” Amanda glanced over her shoulder to catch a glimpse at it, and indeed, it wasn’t anything they’d have to worry about until after the battle, assuming it naturally stopped bleeding. Blood aside though, Lotte was more focused than Amanda had seen her since they met up in Finland, hell, even more so than when they were just talking over magical connections. People could say what they will, but Amanda knew that even Lotte, when put under pressure, could harden herself and muster all of that Sisu her parents passed on, and by god did they need that Sisu ASAP! </p><p> </p><p>More rustling in the distance. Trees parts, splitting. Hissing and cawing from avian and airborne creatures, guttural words in tongues, an unnatural speech for any Fae, but a common side effect of sympathic influence. The hydra wasn’t here yet, thank the Nine, but the gang of witches was about to have a lot on its hands. </p><p> </p><p>First they came in surprise strikes; lunging dire hyenas, much like the ones from the night Chaos first attack. Amanda cut one down, splitting it along the abdomen as it leapt over her, while Harper summoned a halo of five arcane orbs above her head. When the second hyena came for her, all she had to do was give it a mean look, and the halo of orbs shot out at the creature one by one. The arcane orbs buffeted it with little firework-like explosions, leaving the spiny and spiky dog burned and dazed; down for the count. </p><p> </p><p>In those same moments, Dino blessed the group with a boon he let slip from his lips. <em> “Periuno Shaytala!” </em> A fleeting enhancement washed over the group, hastening their every action, and so Dino took the lead with it. He drew a switchblade from his jacket and rushed out to meet a charging group of zombies. With his increased speed, he drew a circle in the dirt using his blade, able to avoid every swipe and groping grab the restless dead made on him. The efficacy of his tactic revealed it self when he finished the circle, dodged back toward the group, ducking past a hastily fired slug from Constanze, and quickly spoke a complex series of incants, one that would take minutes to say in full without the aid of his own prior magicks. While incomprehensible to hear, the speed mattered little in the case of this spell. It manifested as a white hot pillar of light which erupted from the lines drawn in the dirt. The zombie crowd tried to push through it, but it was like butting heads with plexiglass, though that was not all. Dino carefully flicked and swished his wand in such a way as to create another symbol, this time, it was in the air: <em> “¡Explosión Desatadora! </em>” The column of light flared, turning into a solid pillar rather than a translucent tube, so much so that it pierced the insides of the zombified bodies and exited their eyes in blinding beams. Then, a moment later, the light vanished, all went back to do dark, and the zombies simply fell over. Their souls had been separated from their bodies; a mercy for those who already died once, and didn’t wish to get back up again.</p><p> </p><p>Dino’s comrades similarly benefited from the boon of haste, of course, but none seemed better aided by it than Constanze, who’s impressive handling with a firearm turned to deadeye showmanship, and tournament worthy quick-shots. While Dino was busy exorcising the undead, Constanze  nearly overheated her blaster, and if she hadn’t stopped to realize just why her hands were starting to burn, she likely would have blown the damn thing up. That said, the results spoke for themselves: Gorgon heads that had emerged in a swarm from the canopy now lie scattered as rocky debris, while the heavy duty firepower of her blaster tore apart a charging Brass-Bull Construct, one of the most insidious of “daemons” the realms of Cinder had to offer. It was, thankfully, far less threatening with its head slagged and melting open, and its body turned over from a trip and stumble. The ground around it burned easily, on the account of its magma-like “blood” that now dripped from its ever glowing form. </p><p> </p><p>Drew wasn’t slacking either. He wasn’t much of a combative witch, despite what his attitude may say about him. No, he was a man of diplomacy between Fae, and the magic he wielded spoke to the deepness of his connections. He needed time of course, time bought by his allies, and time provided ahead of schedule by Dino’s boon, in order to wield his own magicks effectively. When he finished the complex incant though, having drawn a diamond shaped rune in the air, cut into fours and surrounded by a circle, carefully accented with shapes vaguely reminiscent of Fae found in each domain. It became pseudo-three-dimensional when complete, and once Drew had finished incanting, he slammed his fist hard against the “Wyld” section of the rune, pressing in that part like a stone switch on a wall. A few moments later, the trees that line the clearing began to shiver and tremble. They began to grow wider, tougher, and taller, forming a veritable wall created not only of ancient oak, but of scintillating vines composed of a wholly otherworldly material. Flimsy and thin as it looked, not even the strongest of ogres on the assault could break the bonds. Infact, to even <em> try </em> and bring harm unto the root and vine like links that made this maddeningly beautiful, but somewhat dizzyingly patterned wall, was a death sentence, for the trees themselves began to turn on every single creature that began to assault the enclosure. </p><p> </p><p>From between the gaps in the wall, the witches could see it all: Mud Elementals, possessed suits of armor, Librarian Stalks, great big eyes that floated around on tendrils, Gremlins, and dozens more kinds of magical beings caught up to the interloping witches. They were throwing themselves with reckless abandon against the Fae barrier, earning jabbing spikes, bristling thorns, and thwacking branches from the trees for every slight against them. Drew’s spell wouldn’t hold forever though, and while the powers of the Fae realms were strong, they certainly wouldn’t stand forever against a continued assault, one partially helmed by Fae themselves no less. But, it gave Lotte even <em> more </em> space to work with, and that’s all they needed. “Please tell me... we’re nearly through!” Begged Drew between pants. His spell was no easy feat. “We can’t hold them off forever, and that’s without the wall!” By then, Dino’s boon faded. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze kept an eye on the skies and picked off any buzzing or cawing monsters that tried to swoop in on the group, but she managed a response all the same. “Patience! Can’t—!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> BOOM-CHK! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Another fell bat down. “—Rush these things!”</p><p> </p><p>“But uh!” Amanda fired off a wayward Murowa or two, helping to batter away a few of the airborne threats. “If you could, that’d be great!” </p><p> </p><p>“I-I’m trying! It’s really hard to tell it apart from all of the other spirits!” There was finding a needle in a haystack, and finding the offshade thread of crimson on an otherwise win-red pillow. Everything looked the same to her spirited sight, and the concentration of magical power was so immense around Luna nova that trying to isolate pockets of power became a fruitless method. </p><p> </p><p>“Well it <em> would </em> be nice if you tried harder!” Drew jabbed his wand out toward one particularly determined ghoul who managed to scale the fence. A zap of Fae sparks knocked the wretched thing back down. “You know, before we die horribly!”</p><p> </p><p>“You guys aren’t helping!” Warned Harper. “Just let her think!” Thundering steps began to shake the earth. The telltale hiss of serpents shrilly greeted everyone’s ears. The hydra was near. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh no….”  Dino slowly shook his head and took a few steps back, “That’s no good.” only to realize that they were, quite literally, up against a wall, what with the frozen time and all. “That’s <em> really </em> not good!”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah shit….” Amanda wiped her brow and readied her swords. Her eyes drifted to the secondary sheathe on Dyrnwynn, and her mind immediately began to badger her. Draw it, don’t draw it, she was worthy, she was unworthy, a failure, or a righteous woman. Mixed signals clouded her judgement, and thus she defaulted to leaving it as it was. <em> “Damnit!” </em> She silently scolded herself for her hesitation, and the blade for being picky. Too bad though, she either had to risk it, or fight as she was; death by burning, or death by hydra. <em> “Yeah, real nice blend of options here!” </em>A bit of cursing on the universe too, just for good measure. “Just keep looking, Lotte! You’ll find it soon!” False hope and genuine hope blended together to comprise Amanda’s not-so reassuring assurance. </p><p> </p><p> “Even the Hologarium itself is just… just…!” Words escaped Lotte. She could envision the grand clock, with Akko and Diana standing before it, wounded, at the mercy of its power. The sight not only disturbed her further, but offered no aid. Even when looking <em> directly at </em> the very thing she was trying to speak with, she just saw a near uniform blanket of raw spirited energy all about the room. “It’s like the spirit is—!” Wait. That was it! <em> “Could it really…?” </em> Lotte stepped away from the dome. She beheld it in all its strange majesty and focused her magical senses upon the structure as a hall. In the background, the timber and magical metals of the Fae barrier began to crack, and the hydra was about to make its first ram. <em> “YES!” </em> She could see it clearly: The spirit was <em> everywhere </em> inside the dome; not just one spot. As a sapient manifestation of time itself, it necessitated such omnipresence. <em> “Of course! Now to </em> — <em> !”  </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> CRA-THUUM! </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> “SSHHHHHHRAAA!” </em>The hydra’s first impact split one tree down the middle, but it remained standing. </p><p> </p><p>“Paska!” Lotte cursed out of fright. </p><p> </p><p><em> “HSSSSSAAAAA!” </em>The hydras many other heads tried worming their ways around the fence to try and get a grip on it, but burning bolts from Amanda, dizzying darts from Harper, and armor piercing arcane slugs from Constanze killed one of its heads outright, and badly wounded several others. It didn’t matter of course, hydras being hydras, but it slowed the beast down, and time was all they could ask for. It reared back and let its wound regenerate before preparing another slam against the barrier. </p><p> </p><p>Now a deadly timer, Lotte forced herself to begin singing: </p><p> </p><p><em> “Awaken now oh sleeping souls,” </em>She was forced to do it calmly, carefully, despite the beads of sweat on her brow, and the violent beating of her heart. </p><p> </p><p>“IT’S COMIN’ AGAIN!” Dino and the others reflexively ducked down as the Hydra rammed into the barrier, sending shards wood flying.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Your time has come to sing anew,” </em>The dome seemed to ripple, like a puddle disturbed by a singular raindrop. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda took the fight to the Hydra this time. With Constanze’s aid, she charged forth. The witch-smith drew her hammer quickly and struck the earth, and a ways before her, in Amanda’s path, a pillar of earth shot up <em> just </em> as the hunter stepped upon it. Amanda soared up high, boosted by the force, and threw Carnwennan down at the Hydra’s highest head. Upon reappearing in a puff of smoke, she severed the first head with one clean stroke, and drew the ire of the others while deftly dodging away through more cheeky teleports while Harper, Constanze, Dino, and Drew focused their fire once more. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Tell me your wonders, tell me your woes,” </em>Golden sparkles began to form around Lotte, though she did not notice them with her eyes closed. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze got right into the thick of it next, taking full advantage of the chaos Amanda caused. They tagged out so to speak, with the latter backing off and firing off blazing bolts while the former charged in. She did just fine at range, but for a creature that regenerated like a hydra, a more drastic measure was needed, and Constanze had just workshopped something for just such an occasion. She aimed her silver gauntlet at one of its temporarily dead heads, launched herself over, and then aimed her blaster down its slack maw. She didn’t pull the trigger though. Instead, she turned the nozzle on the gas valve, and let a billowing flame rip through the beast's insides. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Come carry that weight with me….” </em> A shape began to form in the sepia haze beyond the dome. It was flat, circular, multi-circled even, and encased in a flourishing frame, like a clock meant for telling the time of every land at once. </p><p> </p><p><em> “KHHRRAA! SHSHA SHSHA!” </em>The rest of the hydra stumbled back as its insides burned and boiled. It wasn’t enough to kill it, but it sure did get the creature moving away, perhaps even enough to have it reconsider its attack. Constanze had to leap off of the dead head as it was dragged off of course, but luckily, Drew was there to catch her with a summoned pillow-flower. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Together we meet,” </em>Sets of twelve eyes formed, one for each clock, and one eye of each set for every time-spot on said clock. The casing of the clocklike spirit became more detailed, less see-through. </p><p> </p><p>It really did seem like all was well then, but the sudden arrival of a figure cloaked in white filled the witches’ hearts with dread. She flew in from behind the hydra and pushed past its heads in a clear display of dominance and annoyance. “We’ve had enough of this!” Barked Will as she flexed her fingers and motioned carefully with her hands. Constanze and Amanda both tried to shoot her down, but inexplicably, flying thralls quite literally <em> threw </em> themselves in front of the shots, allowing the Fate witch to prepare her unravelling curse. <em> “Ka-Thrax-Shyash!” </em> She motioned harshly with her arms, as if to rip open something large and wide, and thus were her actions reflected in her magicks. The Fae barrier Drew had awakened shattered down the center, and was tossed wide open as if it were plywood sent flying by hurricane force winds, and dispersing any magical traces and materials along. In truth, she had caused the magical forces at work to self-destruct and devour themselves, leaving naught but a void of energy.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Two dreams joined, complete,” </em>The clock thing grew wooden appendages. A pair of wings, like that of a swan, and dozens upon dozens of hands, all meant for the clocks of course. </p><p> </p><p>“Fuckin’ hell!” Shouted Amanda. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze raised an arm to cover her face. “Mmm!” Drew similarly cowered, while Dino and Harper gathered power. </p><p> </p><p><em> “KINE!” </em>The two witches shouted their spell and raised a kinetic barrier to shield them from the heavier chunks of debris. It saved them from the shrapnel, but nothing would save them from the now stampeding horde of monsters.... Nothing save for a bit of help from the Hologarium.</p><p> </p><p>And that’s just what Lotte had procured. <em> “Rise and be released....” </em>Finally, a mouth formed in the shape of a beak, and yet somehow it curled into a simple but bedeviled smile, one that quickly widened.</p><p> </p><p><b><em>“T</em></b>         <b><em>to stop already i      i</em></b></p><p><b><em>    i</em></b> <b><em>            go  ydaerla  s     t?”</em></b></p><p>
  <b> <em>     m</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>        e</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p><b> <em>THA-BWOOOOO-AAAAAAM!</em> </b> </p><p> </p><p>The dome shattered. Time stoppage of time spilt out freely. The witches were frozen where they stood, wands and weapons raised, and the monsters similarly sat there, silently, unable to strike the killing blow that would save mankind should The Fates be believed. All the world, maybe all of the universe, now sat still. The only things that moved now were things that were so divulged from the mortal understanding of reality so as to not be under the jurisdiction of time, such as time daemons, and entities much like the spirit of the Hologarium. </p><p> </p><p><b><em>“Quite t</em></b>                  <b><em>you’ve found yourselves in.”</em></b></p><p><b><em>            h      pickle</em></b>                      <b><em>sevlesruoy out."</em></b></p><p>
  <b> <em>              e </em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>The clockwork spirit flapped its wooden wings awkwardly as it examined the situation with a casual demeanor befitting a sunday stroll. It looked each witch in the eye, Will included, and shook its head, clucking sadly at the Witch in White. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>“A shame i    had t     end     like </em> </b>
</p><p><b><em>                 t </em></b> <b><em>          o   begin        this.” </em></b></p><p> </p><p>It cooed remorsefully, as if to sigh. </p><p> </p><p><b><em>“Even now,  </em></b> <b><em>                     you </em></b><b>f o u r u o f</b><b><em>.”</em></b></p><p><b><em>        before,        misses</em></b> <b>o</b> <b>      o</b></p><p><b><em>         after,    she</em></b> <b> u   u</b></p><p><b>  </b> <b>     r </b></p><p> </p><p>It flew away from Will, eventually. It was always hard to say goodbye, just as it was to say hello. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>“No matter.”</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>“Yes rettam.”</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>It made its way back over to the witches and sprinkled golden dust from its wings. Upon closer inspection, each flake was a perfect triangle, and reflected countless possibilities. </p><p> </p><p><b><em>“She hopes you</em></b>         <b><em>n        s</em></b> <b><em>             is               r own good.”</em></b></p><p><b><em>                   we      u    der     tand. It  </em></b> <b><em>             u</em></b></p><p><b><em>                     I</em></b> <b><em>                                        for o</em></b></p><p> </p><p>After the group had been coated in the golden shards, the Hologarium spirit roosted itself on Constanze’s shoulder. It smiled wide again and gave each frozen person a long and contemplative look. </p><p>
  <b> <em>“Where                           to?"</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>           When                  to?"</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>                     why          to?"</em></b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>                             who to?”</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>It leaned in closely, as if to try and hear them, only to chuckle loudly a few moments later, clucking and quacking like all manner of birds. After it had its fun, it shook its head, raised its right wing, and spoke one final time.</p><p> </p><p><b><em>“D</em></b> <b><em>                                when you wish t</em></b></p><p><b><em>     o</em></b>  <b><em>                                              o</em></b></p><p><b><em>         not worry. I know where</em></b> <b><em>                 go.”</em></b></p><p> </p><p>It afforded Amanda in particular a wink before fixing its posture and taking a deep breath of sorts, not that breathing was a thing it really did. No time passed, not for anyone save the avian spirit, but soon, now, before, later, it enacted its will over time. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>MAAAAAA-OOOOOWB-AHT!</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Time resumed as if nothing had happened at all, and so the attacking beasts and monsters continued their lunges, landing one one big dogpile. The only problem was that the witches weren’t there any more. They were gone, and Will could sense it immediately. “What…?” She was beyond baffled. “What….” Beyond angry. “What in the hells just happened!?” Beyond understanding. Her eyes flared white and her knuckles tensed, but she forced herself to breathe deeply so as to calm herself. The sound of falling glass, the shattering of the dome, strangely helped her fall into that controlled state. <em> “All is well, Will.” </em> She hadn’t required such deliberate talking down from her own humors in a <em> long </em> time. <em> “All is well….” </em> And in truth, she was less angry, and more afraid. Afraid for herself, her sisters, the world at large, everything. The future was a dark place with the witches escaping, and of course Chaos’ prophecy had to come true <em> just </em> when Will had them concerned. <em> “So it goes, as ever. The universe’s boundless spite will not impede Us. Thus did we swear on Our pact, thus did we promise to Ourselves….” </em>Old oaths and mantras, one she had thought she long lost the need for. A sigh so heated it came out as steam escaped her, acting as the final vestiges of her immediately explosive emotions. “Very well.” She said flatly to herself. “We must simply regroup… just as we planned.” </p><p> </p><p>Will turned about harshly, dismissively waving off the thralls to do as they pleased now that the barrier was crumbling all around them, falling to the earth as sharp and shining snow in slow motion. Their actions mattered little now, in specificity at least. So long as they killed as many witches as possible, the likelihood that one of them was a reclaimer would increase. </p><p> </p><p>All of that though was unimportant, for now at least. No, instead, to understand the proceeding drama, we must first take a look at<em> just</em> <em>how much</em> can happen in but a moment’s time.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><hr/><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Here is what The Spirit of The Horologium said without the intense editing. </p><p>(1) "Time to stop (go) already (Already spelt backwards) is it?"</p><p>(2) "Quite the pickle you've found yourselves (yourselves spent backwards) in (out)."</p><p>(3) "A shame it had to end (begin) like this."</p><p>(4) "Even now (before, after), she misses you four (four is said three times in three different voices and arranged as a triangle.)"</p><p>(5) "No matter." (Yes and matter spelt backwards)</p><p>(6) "She hopes you (we, I) understand. It is for our own good."</p><p>(7) "Where (when, why, who) to?" (The word to is reverberated four times over and distorted.)</p><p>(8) "Do not worry. I know where (when) you wish to go."</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. In Just A Moment's Time | Shoot The Works</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello all! I'm very sorry this took so long, but writing intense action scenes takes time and effort to get right, and writing endings to stories even more so! On top of that, work has kept me busy of course, so it took a little while longer than normal to get this out! That said, I've LOVED every second of writing this! It's been such an interesting literary challenge, and wonderfully enjoyable. The next chapter will be very similar in that sense, and it will be the final one before the very very very last chapter; an epilogue, which will take place after a time skip. </p>
<p>That said, since we are so close to the end, I just wanted to thank you all so much for reading up to this point. If you're one of the folks who's been with me from the start or binge read through this or found this some time later or in the middle of its writing cycle, whenever and wherever you are, thank you so much. Your enjoyment and interest gives me the purpose and energy to get up every morning and do what I do. I cannot thank you more than enough, though I will endeavor to time and time again as this series continues/book 1 wraps up. </p>
<p>That's right! You heard me! This is BOOK 1 of a planned 4-5 total! This is story ending is only the beginning of a larger tale, and those keen readers among you have know doubt been mired in all the foreshadowing I've set up! Please, by all means, look forward to seeing those shadowy veils lifted as time goes on. Every scene I've put in this story exists for a reason, and the same can be said for the details. </p>
<p>That said, without any further pre-amble, enjoy!</p>
<p>Twitter: @KarmotrineDrea1</p>
<p>Tumblr: https://karmotrinedreams91.tumblr.com/</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Their orders were clear, but their objectives were as treacherous to achieve as the situation was dire. Seldom few hallways had been spared of the carnage, making even the shortest of routes from the sewers to the library a dangerous trek indeed: </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jasminka didn’t think about the danger. She looked it in the eye, squinted in displeasure, and answered it blow for blow, quite literally, with her fists. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“KAHAACK!” A maddened Krokolon, a humanoid like reptile with the back-shell of a tortoise, and the facial features of a crocodile, was the most recent of being to receive Jasminka’s punch. She hit the Gloom Fae right on its nose, hard enough to blister it and her own knuckles, sending the reptilian reeling until it tripped over its own barbed tail and crashed to the floor. Before the being could recover, as it writhed and rolled about, stunned by the overload sent through its sensitive snout, two Antiquarians and a brave student of four years cast a restraining spell:</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Internia!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Their voices rang out as one, and their wands all shot forth different colored beams that encircled the Krokolon in three rings, binding the hands, feet, and mouth tightly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All the while, the rest of their small band, Hannah and Barbara included, were dealing with a particularly vicious Owlion, and a small cohort of “malfunctioning” Junkmen. The former was a winged biped of white, brown, and tan feathers, possessing a body reminiscent of a lion, but one that was quite a bit larger than any “big cat.” Its beak was short, but sharp and jagged like a rusted nail, and despite its “cute” and “round” face, its ability to snap and bite at speed was one that nearly cost Barbara and several others their eyes, to say nothing of their lives. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Speaking of rusty things though, the Junkmen were just that: Rust Fae. They were perhaps the </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> kind of Rust Fae to see themselves among the ranks of the sympathically manipulated, if only for the nature of their origin: The name said it all. They were amalgams of spirited objects coalesced into one large soul, inhabiting a literal body of garbage. Treasure-like garbage, mind you, but garbage nonetheless; old clocks, sentimental picture frames, prized collections of tools, pieces of once cherished furniture, that sort of thing.They were unheard of before the twentieth century, but soon after the first landfills were put to use, such objects of value and spiritage were given the new opportunity to fester and ferment in the earth, rotting, rusting, alone with themselves. Now, they molded their various appendages, ranging in number from one to five arms and one to eight feet, into blades, splintery wood shards, bucket-maces, and any other sort of thing that could be used as a weapon. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span>“Fairuu! Fairuu! Zara ien fairuu!”</span> <span>Hannah tried her damndest to get through to them as she spoke in Faul Un Fuor, the language of “lower” Fae beings, which is to say, most of them. Her words roughly translated to: </span><em><span>“Be calm! Be calm! I beg you to be calm!”</span></em><span> She quickly learned though that diplomacy was a non-option. One of the Junkmen lunged at her with its five misshapen arms. She haphazardly raised her wand and arms in defense as she ducked away alongside several other witches, all of whom suffered grazing blows and scratches. </span><em><span>“Luna Lana!” </span></em><span>Hannah herself fired off a wild counterspell as she stumbled away, sending the bolt haphazardly into the larger crowd of Junkmen and striking one in its laptop-monitor-head. Magical sparks flew off of the stricken Rust Fae as the spell took hold, unravelling its bindings spirit by spirit, until it collapsed into a useless pile of bric-a-brac. Her comrades and classmates worked to do the same to the others, albeit with great difficulty due to how erratically the Rusting creatures moved. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It ended up being Barbara who struck the final blow of the skirmish, though her means were hardly conventional or intentional: The Owlion itself would be her weapon. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The great bird-cat lurched and snapped madly, snatching a wand or weapon out of a couple of Antiquarian’s hands and tossing them aside. Moment by moment, their cohort was losing ground, being pushed further and further back toward the secret sewer passage they first came out of. They all knew that this couldn’t be allowed, lest they be flanked and torn to shreds, or worse. While hardly a skilled mage, Barbara suddenly got a clever idea as the Owlion continued its striking advances beside the rusty Fae. She leveled her wand and inhaled sharply as she spouted off the incant that had come to the forefront of her mind: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Mida…!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Alchemical energies surged through her simple casting instrument as the towering and feathery beast crouched in preparation to fly and claw at Barbara and her nearby allies with its rending talons. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Midaria!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Just as it took to the air though, a golden beam of energies shot out from Barbara’s wand and struck the Owlion in the left wing!</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“SCREE-ACAWCAWCAW!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The Owlion flapped its unmarred right wing with all its might as the left slowly became encased in a thick layer of fools gold, turning its deadly liftoff into a clumsy crash. Its massive body tumbled down just as quickly as it took off and landed among the remaining Junkmen, scattering their bits and bobs to the air and floor in a great big crash of metal, wood, plastic, and giant bird-cat. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After the dust settled, the whole group checked themselves and each other for wounds. Many of the fourth and fifth year students among them, Hannah and Barbara included, were pretty panicked about all of it. “I-It hurts!” One student got a sizable shard of metal lodged in her shoulder, and while it wasn’t a major wound, it would be disturbing for any young witch to experience and witness a wound such as that. “Should I take it out!?” Others were injured in similar ways in terms of severity, Antiquarian and student alike. </span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Antiquarians of course were more equipped to deal with this sort of thing though: “ Don’t touch it!” while the Antiquarians kept a more level and objective head, as did Jasminka, to everyone’s silent surprise. “Just hold still and let me…!” One young-ish Antiquarian held the student who had the metal bits in her shoulder still as he mustered up a spell to magnetize the tip of his wand. The spell brought the smaller shards of shrapnel, and the larger piece, out in a clean motion, causing a sharp but quickly passing bit of pain. Another Antiquarian aided by applying a cut portion of cloth from her own robe to wrap the wound up tightly; it was hardly a complete treatment, but it was better than nothing. Time was too short for them to spend long here. “Can you keep fighting?” The first Antiquarian spoke sternly, demanding an answer be given with haste, but clearly showing no bit of malice toward either answer. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It took a moment, but the student he had a hold of eventually nodded, though she couldn’t stop biting her lips in order to vocalize her agreement. This was the reality for various others among their cohort of around forty witches, Hannah, Barbara, and Jasminka included, though the latter three were very lucky to not be wounded thusly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bruises here, scrapes there; Jasminka especially had quite a few nasty cuts on her knuckles, but she could live with the pain. “Давай скорее!” She was the one who was leading the charge in fact, from the moment this battle began she’d been the first into the fray, doing her damndest to see as many folks and Fae as possible to safety. What puzzled everyone though was the fact that she did practically all of it without even a hint of magic. Well, not</span>
  <em>
    <span> entirely</span>
  </em>
  <span> without magic. She warded attackers here and there, healed and helped friendly witches and Fae along the way, but never once did she strike out with even the weakest of Murowa blasts. “Quickly! Amanda and Constanze need us!” There was no time to interrogate that fact though: Jasminka was more than right. Time was of the essence, and it needed to come to a halt soon if Amanda and Constanze were to be afforded enough of their own time to get help. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hannah, Barbara, and the accompanying cohort couldn’t agree more. Perilous as the task seemed at first, fortune was smiling on them in those moments following that most recent skirmish. The Owlion was down for the count, the Junkmen were dismantled, and the path ahead of them was a straight shot to the library: Its grand doors stood off unmarred to the right about forty yards down the way. “Come on people! Move together and keep your wands ready!” The lead Antiquarian, a slightly higher ranking witch among the coven, spurred the group to action alongside Jasminka, seeing them along in a loose mob-like formation. They moved quickly, but not too frantically, the Antiquarians at least. The Students were far more disorganized, as to be expected, but they knew what to do: Stay close to their allies, and they might just make it out of this, and so that's what they did. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The sounds of distant melees and skirmishes rang out from above and across the halls of Luna Nova, turning the soundscape into a mish-mash of clattering steel, bellowing and braying beasts, blasting wands, and pained screams. The hallway itself was no more welcoming, for while no immediate threat lurked within, the clear signs of a breach at the opposite end from where the group was approaching spoke to the ransacking that had already occurred over here. Downed paintings littered the floor, shattered vases and statuettes pocked the tiling, and the bodies of an unfortunate duo of Antiquarians near the breach told a grizzly tale of their demise. Mercifully, they were face and belly down; nothing too gruesome at first blush. Truly, it was a haunting atmosphere, making even their uninterrupted run down the hall toward the library doors a harrowing journey that felt longer than it really was. Once they arrived, Jasminka and several others got to work forcing the door open, diving shoulder first against it once, twice, then thrice! </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>WHAM! </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The doors were flung wide, having likely been locked in a hurry amidst the chaotic moments when the attack first began. Now open to them, the library revealed itself to be in pristine condition, given the circumstance. The blast from The Hell Machine knocked no small amount of books to the floor, and made short work of any precariously perched antiques, but the structure of the room itself was as sound as could be, and that’s all the team could ask for. “INSIDE! NOW!” The lead Antiquarian beckoned the group through the doors, and only entered herself when she was the last one out in the halls. She and a few other Antiquarians made to close the door, but Hannah was quick to turn about and fumble toward their only exit. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“W-WAIT!” The doors were shut, but the lock was still broken. Hannah’s shout and advance had stopped the witch who was trying to magically seal them in. “What about Akko and Diana!? How are we going to use the Horologium!?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll have to try without them!” The lead Antiquarian motioned for her comrade to resume casting their spell. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But if they get locked out—!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then they shouldn’t have run off without help!” She didn’t like it, but as the would-be leader of this group, she couldn’t afford to let them fall prey to indecisiveness. “We had a plan and they didn’t stick to it! End of story!” Hannah silently gulped back her worst fears and deepest sorrows. She and Barbara both felt their hearts bleed as if punctured by a thousand tiny bee stings, while Jasminka grimly “ignored” the words being spoken. Again, the lead Antiquarian spoke firmly, pointing out individuals and groups as she gave orders. “Now! Nichols! Flores! Kidd! Take up posts by the windows! Make sure we don’t get caught unawares!” The three Antiquarian sorcerers she called out wasted no time in doing just that. “Ibarra! Colijn! Get the students and the rest of our coven and find us that damn Horologium! Tear this library apart if you have to!” The Antiquarians were quick to corral the students into taking part in the wanton upheaval of tomes and books, with Jasminka being an </span>
  <em>
    <span>especially</span>
  </em>
  <span> effective bulldozer given her surprising strength. Barbara and Hannah were still a bit too shocked however, though the lead Antiquarian paid them no mind for now. “And nine damnit Stanton! I thought I told you seal this—AAAHHHAAH!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>CRACK! THOOMP THOOMP! CRACK! </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Too little, too late. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A great-axehead split a wound in the door, and another wound in the right hand of the lead Antiquarian, who was unfortunate enough to be pressing her palm up against where the bloodied blade had been hewn. Her hand was split down the middle, between her middle and ring fingers, and she was forced back from the pain as she clutched desperately at her gnarly wound. More blades came but a moment later, stabbing through portions of the wood door as maces and hammers crushed the planks apart. The witches at the door redoubled their efforts in response as blow after blow of bladed and blunted weaponry crashed against the frame. They’d been found, and not just by some maddened Fae or monster, but by the knights of the Bathory clan. “Gah! Hurry!” The lead Antiquarian wrapped her ruined hand in cloth and grit her teeth intensely as she fumbled to grab at her casting tome; she was wounded, but not defeated. Her orders, display of fortitude, and the genuine terror that started to overcome some of the witches, either visibly or otherwise, spurred those within the library to work at even greater speeds: They’d tear this place apart if it killed them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Books and scrolls were flung from the shelves at random, either by way of tossing hands or telekinetic magics. Those shelves were then scoured for hidden buttons, switches, sigils, anything that might suggest that it was connected to a secret passageway, with the smaller, more lithe students, like Hannah and Barbara, being relied on to clamber up the bookcases while the Antiquarians and burlier students kept the cases steady or hoisted the others up. “Was it a switch or was it a fake book!?” Asked Barbara. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How should I know!?” Hannah yelled back from across the room, atop a different bookcase. “We never even got to see the chamber, remember!?” Another reason why they needed Akko and Diana; the former was the one who actually first found the damnable thing. “Just keep trying things!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“R-Right!” Barbara looked around frantically from half way up one of the cases. She pointed her hand down at the esks and yelled out. “Check the desks! A-And the floor!” It wasn’t a half bad idea. Maybe there was a  specific floor panel that could be lifted, or perhaps there was some greater mechanism at work here. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jasminka herself was the first to take charge with that, turning over tables and stomping on various tiles with other witches to try and hear out for any hollow thunks. None came though, and so Jasminka took it a step further and toppled one of the bookcases over where she thought the door should be, only to find a blank and dusty wall behind it. “But it was right here!” At least it was in her memories.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Keep looking!” The lead Antiquarian shouted as she shot another arcane blast through one of the holes in the door, plinking away at the vampiric knights just beyond the threshold. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“IT’S GONNA GIVE!” One of her comrades at the door yelled back as another blade struck through the wood, forcing that same witch to lurch back just to not get stabbed in the gut. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“WE CAN’T HOLD IT!” Shouted another. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Their leader hissed and cursed under her breath before she ran back up to stand shoulder to shoulder with her comrades. “Wards up! Wards up!” The order took a moment to register, but when it did, each Antiquarian at the door gave each other a quick glance, a nod, and then shoved themselves off of the door. It looked suicidal at first, as if they were welcoming the Bathory's inside, but in that same motion, they brought their wands, charms, staves and all to bear as they spoke one unified incantation: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Pallisadia Arcanum!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Just as the door was giving way to the relentless assault of the bloodsuckers, the spell took effect in the form of a great barrier emitted from each of the eight casting tools that conjured it. Streams of multicolored and arcane light formed thread-like strands that connected each witches' magicked arms to the illusory wall, causing it to manifest as a semi-ethereal smoke cloud colored like auroras, loosely in the shape of a thick cobblestone. This was the bulwark upon which the door splintered and shattered, and where the vampires’ preternatural strength was truly tested. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>KRA-KRACK! THUNK!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Six knights barreled in, weapons drawn and fangs barred. “SACRIFICE THEMMM!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>CRASH! CLANG!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Battle cries and yells rang out in a jumble of noise, and the clatter and clanging of steel against the arcane barrier echoed into the room like tiny thunderclaps, nearly deafening all within for a brief moment. Sparks flew, shards of arcane ephemera filled the air, and sweat dripped down the brows of the witches attending to the barrier.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Through the din of it all though, the knights’ harrowing call could still be heard. “NIGHT HAS FALLEN! NIGHT HAS FALLEN!” For each hammer blow and halberd cleave that came the barriers way, the vampires got one inch closer to breaching the library entirely.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> “HURRY!” The lead Antiquarian shouted over her shoulder as she and her comrades dug in their heels and braced their casting arms; their magic wouldn’t hold forever. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>VRRRM! VRRRRRM! </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A different sound came then: A hopeful one!</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>VRRRRRRR! </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda and Constanze had mounted up and begun their rounds about the school, astride the soon to be dubbed </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lune Rouge</span>
  </em>
  <span>!  “I SEE THEM!” Called out one of the windowside witches. “THEY’RE GOING FOR IT!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>One of the stalwart Antiquarians at the barrier called back: “THAT WON’T MEAN SHIT IF WE DON’T—!” But they were cut short when their tether to the barrier snapped like an overstrung bow, sending them flying back in a small burst of magic. The barrier was showing cracks now, and the longer the Antiquarians tried to keep it up, the more force would get channelled into their wands, eventually resulting in that self-same backlash. “Agh…! Hell…!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> The knights just beyond the barrier howled and bellowed jovially. “HA! PATHETIC!” They were enjoying this, even if they could only hear their prey squeal for now. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We still can’t find it!” Barbara nearly felt her lungs shut tight, and her heart stop itself. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What do we do now!?” And Hannah was faring no better. She was getting dizzy with despair. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“FOCUS! TURN AND FIGHT BA—!” The lead Antiquarian tried to get a hold of the situation, but she too was sent backward once her wand had been overwhelmed by the blowback from the crushing strikes of the Bathory knights. Unlike the first to be sent back though, she was down for the count as her head struck the edge of a table. Almost immediately preceding her fall, panic began to overtake the other students, and even the other Antiquarians. It seemed like the end, but Jasminka wouldn’t let them die here:</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Russian witch sprinted toward the barricade and finally drew her own wand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Pallisadia Arcanum!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>By speaking the words, she put her own power to use to help maintain the shield. “Come on! She said to fight back!” It was a small gesture, but the sight of a young witch being moved to such efforts moved the others in turn; it reinvigorated the Antiquarians, and reassured the students. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Form up on me!” One Indigo robed witch shouted as he took to the center of the room. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wands up!” Called another. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Spells free!” Echoed a third. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Thus did the Antiquarians fall in line, quite literally. They formed ranks, two to be specific, with one file of witches kneeling down with their casting tools and weapons of choice held out, and a second rank behind them doing the same, but at a standing height. It was an old fashioned formation, but they’d be damned if it wasn’t effective. “Ready!” Their plan was clear just from their positioning, and the witches at the barrier caught on immediately. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ready!” Echoed two of the Antiquarians at the barrier.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The maneuver was set then, and the witches were prepared. A silent countdown went by slowly, eerily, as battles raged within and without the library. “NOW!” Time only seemed to flow normally when the group at the entrance split off to either side, breaking away from the barrier of their own accord. It let the knights crash through with ease, but their entrance came unexpectedly, and so they found themselves stumbling blindly into enfilade fire. One of them quite literally fell over as his swing ended up striking dead-air, causing the momentum of hius strike and step to send him tripping forward onto the ground, stunning him. The others were met by bolts of electricity, magical arrows, and beams of all kinds. The Antiquarian firing lines laid into the six vampires with everything they had as far as offensive magicks went. Alas, it was not enough to fell them in one go: </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Two vampires went down easily enough as a flechette of murowa bolts haphazardly fired from students stunted one of them mid charge, just as a piercing blue beam ripped through his armor and heart. His armor fell forward as his burning body screamed out a final ashy gasp. The second was quick enough to dodge the initial volley of Murowas, but they suddenly felt a heavy tug on their ankles, sending them to the floor, and allowing for the focused fire of the Antiquarians to dispatch him with a powerful shock to the head, killing him instantly. Hannah had been the one to set that up, having conjured up vines from the floor to snatch the vampire by his feet. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The other three weren’t dispatched so easily though. One with a halberd was daring and nimble enough to duck out of the cone of fire while readying his weapon for a goring charge. With his incredible speed and strength, he was able to make short work of one unfortunate Antiquarian off to the right of the firing line, having pierced him from navel to spine with the spiked end of his polearm. Another fought through the fire and flames like a bat out of hell. His armor was battered and cracked by the barrage of spells, and parts of his flesh were smoldered and burnt from just the first volley, but none of that mattered. So long as his heart, brain, and spine were intact, no amount of pain or damage would fully deter him or his kin. He came roaring into melee with the firing line, meeting the widened eyes and terrified expressions of one poor Antiquarian with the flat head of his warhammer. His strike alone was enough to kill the witch instantly, and the third vampire followed up swiftly with a wide shield bash that fully broke the two rank formation of Antiquarians, sending the sending tumbling and flying backwards just from the weight of their combined charge. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All hell broke loose from there. The witches who yet stood had no choice, regardless of whether they were Antiquarians or not: This was a fight for their lives, and so the students had to bring any and all possibly useful lessons they learned from their time at Luna Nova to bear. Incantations filled the air, magic missiles and energies bounced around the room as if it were a burning kettle filled with corn. No small amount of friendly fire occurred as far as the student witches went, but for mercy, almost all of their spells weren’t lethal, and the spells that were found their marks by way of the Antiquarian’s well trained aim and casting skill:</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The halberdier knight only got enough of a chance to dislodge his weapon and slash down and across his victims chest before he was beset by another torrent of magic, the effects of which were almost too insane to describe. First, the blade of his weapon was turned into a rubbery duplicate, then the haft of his halberd grew three sizes, becoming more like a log that saw him instantly thrown to the ground by the sheer weight of it. The floor cracked and chipped from that impact alone, but it was the subsequent plinking spells that eroded his armor enough to allow for an Antiquarian’s magically manipulated dagger to land the killing blow at the back of his head. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The hammer wielding vampire on the other hand had much more room to cause damage, and so he continued his bullish rush further into the library. He swung his hammer wildly, smashing aside a turned up desk with his first swing, and shattering the tile with a followup strike that nearly flattened a staff-wielding Antiquarian. He advanced inexorably from there, forcing any witch unfortunate enough to be in his hammer’s to either go to ground or be sent flying away. Such was his wanton disregard that not even students were spared his wrath, even if his own masters demanded them alive; a mad vampire’s bloodlust was a powerful and terrifying thing. It was only by luck, and maybe The Nine’s blessings that no student managed to fall to his attacks directly, though one student was knocked wholly unconscious when one of the knight’s vicious attacks sent a large splintered piece of wood careening towards her head; she went down like a sack of bricks. So too did the knight though, but only when three Antiquarians banded together to relieve their backpedaling, staff wielding ally. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They came in from behind and both flanks, one wielding a shamshir, and the other two wielding daggers, and with the aid of their spell slinging comrades, they found an opening: It came when icy darts struck the knights’ shoulders, freezing them near solid and stopping his endless too-and-fro swings dead in their tracks. A few tossed books and vases helped further disorient him, providing the perfect opportunity for the charging Antiquarians to finish him off. The daggered witches came in from the left and right and stuck him good, right in the armpit where the armor was weak. The vampire hissed and yelled defiantly as the long forgotten but newly remembered sensation of pain ran through him, only for him to be silenced by a clean cut from the shamshir wielding witch to remove his head. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, the sword and board bearing vampire made his play on the weakest of the bunch: The students. Specifically, he found himself rushing down Barbara and two other students as they panickedly fired off incant after incant. Each of their attacks proved fruitless though as they bounced off or harmless affected his shield, the same shield which he used to assert his dominance once again. Barbara told her legs to move and for her body to get lower, but by the time she realized what was happening, she was seeing black shades and bright lights; her head began to bleed as her body hit the floor. The other students fared little better, as Hannah’s flung body smacked into one, and the vampire himself caught the other with a quick slash to her thigh as she made her escape.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> “BARBARA!” Hannah tried her damndest to rush over to provide her lover with aid, but the haphazard bombardment of spells made every inch of the library danger close. She was lucky enough to </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> be struck by two minor blasts which managed to stumble her. From the ground she looked on in horror as the knight went to take her beloved hostage, but as soon as she was about to fear for the worst, a pink haired witched charge just past her; Hannah almost didn’t believe what happened next. Or rather, she did, but she couldn’t believe that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jasminka</span>
  </em>
  <span> of all people was the one to cause it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Russian witch never played football. She never cared much for sport, in fact. But you wouldn’t think that based on how expertly she tackled the knight that loomed over Barbara’s dazed body. The knight only got a chance to glance Jasminka’s understated frown and scowl as she bulldozed into him with unexpected strength. The two went back all the way to the wall, colliding into the stone and wood frame with enough force to make visible cracks in the surface. “Hnnrgh!” The vampire winced and rolled his head once as his senses returned to him just in time for him to see a fist coming for his face. He was off kilter, but still quick enough to drop his sword and catch the blow in his own hand. Jasminka tried again with the other, getting the same result, and so the two began to struggle for supremacy. The vampire grinned beneath his coif and helm, thinking this a foolish endeavor, but he was quick to realize that while he was stronger than Jasminka, this twenty-something witch had </span>
  <em>
    <span>no right</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be holding up as good as she was against him. He managed to push the two away from the wall, steadily pushing Jasminka back as he tightened the grip on her fists, causing her a great deal of pain as her knuckles cracked and crunched under the pressure. Her lips were sealed though, and her determination was unyielding. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She was so stubborn that it took an Antiquarian’s shout to see her break out of the grapple. “DUCK!” As soon as the word hit her ears, she raised her right foot and kicked out of the struggle before she bent over and covered her head. It was a tiny opening, but all that the Antiquarian who called for her needed. She chucked a javelin with all her might from across the library, and sure enough, the knight, having been sent back a few paces, didn’t have enough time to react, and so the sharpened metal pike found its mark in his heart, spelling his immediate doom. He fell back against the wall and screamed one final time as his skin and bones flaked away in a flash of fire, and his armor became a pile of jumbled pieces. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All of this transpired in the course of mere moments, but even then, as the smoking and glimmering wands and staves of the witches went silent, one last foe made themselves known: It was the knight that had first tripped when the barrier was downed, and he was holding an axe high above Hannah’s head. She came to look at him only when she noticed a shadow that suddenly cast itself over her form, and upon looking up at his feral visage, she stopped breathing. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nobody moves….” The vampire hissed as he carefully scanned every soul in the room with his unblinking and furious eyes. “Or else I take this one with me.” The room went quiet, as quiet as a room could be after a lightning fast skirmish that ended in the deaths of several. “Your wands… your weapons... drop them!” The remaining Antiquarians regarded one another carefully, hesitantly, exchanging complex and silent messages through looks alone, while the students were either wholly stunned or wholly compliant; no school, magical or mundane, trained you to deal with a hostage situation. The knight showed off his fangs at an attempt to menace upon seeing such hesitation. “Were my words not clear!?” He lifted his axe just a bit higher, as if to ready a swing, to drive the point home. “I DEMAND YOU YIE—!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“SERANA!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> Though the only thing that was driven home in the following moments was an ethereal blue sword that pierced the vampire’s skull from the back. “Ah…. Ahach….” The knight staggered to one side, and then the other, his one remaining eye blinking wildly as his brain ceased to function, affording Hannah just enough time to scurry away out from under him as his body crumpled forward. Again, silence took hold in the library, though all eyes were now upon the blasted doorway where two figures stood: </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The first was a furious, teary eyed, and shaking Cavendish, and her equally devastated, but contrarily shocked lover. “Diana…? Akko…?” Hannah unwittingly muttered her disbelief, “DIANA! AKKO!” And did the same for her jubilant cries. The red haired noblette scrambled to her feet and met her closest friend and role model with a hug; or at least, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>tried</span>
  </em>
  <span> to. About three quarters of the way across the library, her run turned to a sluggish walk as she took stock of the expression on Diana’s countenance. Pain. Pure, abject pain. There was seldom any other way to describe; no way worth mentioning at least. “Diana… what—?” Hannah tried to make sense of things, but Diana cut her short. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” The proud heir, in this hour of lowest-lows, simply shook her head and lowered her wand, allowing the ethereal sword she summoned to disappear into a cold breeze. “Not now.” Hannah sucked on her lower lip and felt her fists tighten, not out of anger, but fear. Diana had </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> seemed so sullen, so defeated. With her fear came silence, and so Akko took over: </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re sorry we ran off…. B-But we’re here now!” It wasn’t lost on Akko how ironic this was, what with Diana being a “mess” over Chariot’s seeming death while Akko had to play the strong and straight faced one. “So where’s the chamber!?” Tired and uncertain glances were had all about; the torn up library was enough of a clue. “R-Right! Um… uh…!” Thoughts raced past Akko’s focus with every moment, fast enough that even with their objective being clear, Akko faced trouble in telling if any of this was real. She was more than grateful then for one of the Antiquarians to interject:</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey… hey, hey!” It was one of the witches by the windows; he looked relieved beyond measure. “They’re going for it! THEY’RE GETTING OUT!” Everyone’s focus immediately pivoted onto him and the sight he was pointing out: That of Amanda and Constanze, astride their bike, as they shot through the newly parted path in the forest. Everyone held their breath at the sight of the pursuing vampire lord, Nikolai, still in possession of both of his hands, and only after the trio disappeared from sight did sense and urgency return to the group: “We need to stop it….” Time, that is. “NOW!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Another Antiquarian, the javelin throwing one, jumped in, taking up impromptu command of the group. “Ok everyone! I want the wounded brought to the back and hidden behind desks! And I want that door fixed up ASAP! No telling how long we’ll have to hold out here!” The general gathering of students and Antiquarians obliged immediately, Hannah included as she realized that Barbara was still bleeding from the scalp on account of a vampiric shield bash to the head. She rushed over to Barbara’s side and fell to her knees to examine the wound, finding it mercifully manageable in the short term. With Jasminka’s aid, she carefully brought the unconscious brunette over to the small section of barricades being formed in the back corner of the library before moving to aid the others. At the same time, a few Antiquarians, and those students skilled in reconstructive magicks, brought the door back to pristine and reinforced condition, with one of the latter being so cunning and crafty as to seal it with an arcanely summoned spray of quick-hardening wax; it was more durable that it looked or sounded. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All the while, Akko and Diana moved betwixt the commotion en route toward the bookshelf that held the key to the hidden chamber. The former led the way, on the account that Diana seemed… lost. There wasn’t a much better word for it, in truth. Diana’s eyes were vacant, even if her expression spoke to litanies of torment, and after having seemingly expelled all of her rage in one swift motion of the wand, one ferocious cast of the Cavendish family’s own magicks, she appeared and acted as if she were “spent.” To take another sapient thing’s life, human, Fae, various monsters all included, even when warranted, weighed heavily upon her. Diana would lose no sleep over the life lost there; a vampire out to kill one of her closest friends, but the very act of taking a man, monster, Fae, any sort of sapient life…. It was chilling to a witch who’s legacy was meant to be that of mending. Akko could hardly guess at such an internal conflict, and to be fair, that was but </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> of several crises going on in Diana’s head, and hardly the most pressing of them. Thus did the two converse as they went through the motions, starting with Akko as she found the proper book to pull on, bidding the stone to part and reveal the downward spiral. “Diana, are you—?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I said not now.” Her prior rejection was more universal than it at first seemed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The hastened steps they took echoed through the darkness below with candles being lit only after the two lovers passed them. “But she still might—!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t!” Diana stopped short by a step, nearly tripping Akko up given she was holding onto Diana’s arm. Though it was dim in that stairwell, Akko could tell that Diana was weeping once again. “Don’t make me start hoping for the impossible.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But that’s what I do!” It’s what got her this far, even. “It’s not im—!” Diana would have none of it though.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Akko!” She snapped in an instant, and bore down on her small statured love with that self-same expression of pain. “You saw it! You saw her…! She’s…. I….” Everything hurt. Even things that Diana didn’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> hurt throbbed with agony, like pustules of pain ready to burst at any moment. “I don’t want to hear it…. I’m sorry but…. I don’t… I can’t do this!” The admission of inadequacy, it escaped her lips so suddenly, yet so genuinely, that it was clear that such a statement was one she </span>
  <em>
    <span>nearly</span>
  </em>
  <span> said about a thousand times prior, only to have the thought be reeled in by her ever vigilant, and no-less-than-perfect minded self. Her looming posture, the anger that seemed to tint her eyes, it all fell away with those words as she slumped forward and sobbed openly, practically falling into Akko’s arms. The two stood there, about a quarter of the way down to the Horologium chamber, for at least a minute while Diana wept; almost as hard as she did the first time she lost a maternal figure in her life. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Can you even dare to call her that? After how you talked to her? After how you treated her?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A migrain began to set in, stinging on the top of her head, and throbbing bluntly at her temples. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Akko didn’t know what to do about it, not in any certain sense, but she damn well knew that she had to do something! “D-Diana!” Akko was a hardy witch, but the weight of her taller girlfriend’s whole body upon her own wasn’t exactly easy to carry, though she endeavored to do just that regardless. “I know! I-I know it’s bad! But… but we need to keep… moving!” Because that’s what Atsuko Kagari does. “Because it’s w-what Chariot would want!” Because she had no choice. “Because we can still save everyone else!” Because they were just as much family as Chariot was. “Because I know we can…!” Words echoed in Akko’s mind. Diana’s too, but they came more mutedly. Something about hearts and their capacity for magic; or was it about the source? “Because I believe we can!” And what were they with that belief? After all they experienced before this very moment?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Diana could posit a thousand rebuttals, most of which was painful nonsense; bilious and wretched discharge from the part of her soul that couldn’t stop screaming, and hadn’t stopped since she last said the name of her idol, just moments before her fall. Of those many retorts, Diana could, of course, only call upon one, though were it not for Akko’s own affirming presence, the warmth of her embrace, the shining in her lover’s eyes that always came about when things most fantastical, and most dire all the same, Diana would have chosen poorly. “I know!” She could barely whisper the words, and so they came out in the form of a sharp and shaky exhale. “I know, but…!” That was all she could afford, and all Akko needed. The Japanese witch silenced her Scottish counterpart with a squeeze and a nod into her chest. She knew what Diana was going to say, what she was trying to say. It was hard, hard on both of them, but especially for Diana, for reasons not even Akko was privy to in specific, but ones Akko knew existed on some basic level.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Another short few moments passed, and finally, after both of them had found their centers in themselves and each other, after they’d solidified their own trembling knees upon the bedrock foundation of the other’s existence and support, the two broke off. They shared looks between one another, Akko’s being firm yet remorseful, regretful, while Diana’s kept that same painful air she’d been carrying since this madness began in earnest for her. The latter took solace in the aforementioned sparkling of her beloved’s pupils, and the former did the same in the ever-dulled, but self-same sparkles that showed up in Diana’s eyes, all to her own unknowing. Then came a crash from up high on the spiral; something was wrong in the library, no doubt. If that wasn’t their cue to get moving, then nothing was. They ran off as soon as the sound registered in their ears, sprinting down the stairs again with renewed zeal and fervor. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Winding around and around, downward until the sounds of the chaos above became a distant nightmare, muffled by ancient, undisturbed dirt and stone, and by roots both watchful and wise. Eventually, they came upon that olden chamber that had remained a relative secret to all of the academy for centuries: The Horologium Lounge, as Akko called it; the place where they stored all of their treasures recovered from their time hopping adventures. If only today were a happier day, a normal one, early in the December month, where Akko, Diana, all of the New Nine could come together and appreciate what they did those many years ago before they left the school as fully blooded witches. To see this room again under such circumstances would no doubt have been a peak for all of their combined nostalgia, but now, with just the two of them here, it was a passing, painful reminder of what was, and never could be again: An adventure had with friends and loved ones. An adventure that </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> see peoples lives being threatened. An adventure that was just that, an adventure. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Diana and Akko passed through that room as leaves in the wind. To linger would be to long for what was, and to long would be to lose the present. It was time, and it was about time, and time was all they could rely on now, that and Amanda, Constanze, and Lotte, of course. Thus did they come upon the all powerful device, that great and mysterious amalgam of cogs and woodwork, designed to appear as a grandfather clock, when in truth, the totality of the machine reached down, </span>
  <em>
    <span>down </span>
  </em>
  <span>into the depths of the Sanctum itself, and maybe down further! Sideways out of time! Diagonally into space! Away from the prying eyes of mortals who yet lurked afore glass! The Horologium stood tall, shining, ticking, as it always did, as it always would. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The gantry leading to it was pristine, carpeted in crimson, accented and founded upon golden metals contrasted by dark wooden linings, while the visible piece Horologium itself stood as a gazebo like device, stripped bare to show its uppermost inner workings at all times. Bright teal crystals dangled and spun in carefully curated patterns across a holo-magical display of what was a Lunar Rune marked clock. The diamonds shifted themselves by nanometers for every moment that passed, and came in four pairs of smaller sizes that danced about the central and much larger fifth pair. How this thing told time through that display was unknown, and would likely remain that way for all time; maybe it didn’t even relay time at all? Regardless, the clock above that is what made the contraption even somewhat recognizable as such. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Open gearworks clicked, tocked, and ticked in harmonious unison, telling a truth of time not based on its location, but seemingly counting the days that passed in the universal hourglass. Each adjustment marked a shift on the twelve pointed radial display with a movement of the hands for every bit of the cosmos lost to the inevitable entropy of all. It was the time keeper and vigilant watcher over this world, likely to be the last of things to fade into frozen, blackened obscurity when the stars went dark, and when the subatomic particles began to cease their frantic movements and subside into one incongruous, undividable ooze…. And on that day, there, in the eyes of the lingering souls of witches passed, old and Olde, new and New alike, it would be a savior. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Diana and Akko approached it, their strides in sync, their hearts beating heavily. The latter’s eyes wandered about the room as much as they did along the length of the central construct, while the former could only get lost in the motion of the hands. Only when the two of them stopped just short of the final step did they both fixate on the prismatic center of the clock; their presumption of where the source of power for the machine lied. Seconds passed. Unremarkable, ephemeral, forgettable, but painful, urgent, and dire all at once; such as the wider cosmos often is. Diana spoke first, her mind drawing blanks upon blanks. “You… you never did say how you… broke it last time….” There was no room for tears or great sorrow in the wake of the Horologium’s mystical majesty, and so Diana simply sounded quiet, timid even.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“W-Wait, what!?” Akko was, of course, much louder.  “I told you I didn’t break it!” And she also, </span>
  <em>
    <span>of course</span>
  </em>
  <span>, did break it, but now wasn’t the time for petty arguments, so Diana rephrased:</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you do then?” The question saw Akko dig deep down into memory. Details such as that to most folks were already forgettable, and to Akko they were even harder to cling to. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I…. I know Lotte talked to it, but that was the spirit and—”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> talk to it?” Diana glanced just slightly to her left, meeting Akko’s own sidelong look. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe…?” Akko shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmmm….” Diana sighed annoyedly. This was no place for uncertainty. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It couldn’t hurt to try, right?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s what I’m afraid of.” But Diana feared unforeseen consequences even more. Alas, they were too strapped for choices, and so the Cavendish heir let a few moments pass before relenting. “You do it, Akko. Maybe it will remember you.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Akko gulped back her shared bit of hesitation. “Ok… but I better not get blamed for this if it goes wrong!” As if things such as “blame” mattered in the face of annihilation. Diana disregarded the request of course, and Akko didn’t really care. It was a reflex statement, and nothing more; something to buy time for her brain to parse out the words she’d speak.   </span>
  <em>
    <span>“So… if I’m just going to talk to it….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Five years of academic witchery, five years of hard studies on rituals and incantations and casting forms…. All of that, and Akko was coming up empty on what to say. Should she address it formally? Grandiosely? It was olde after all, ancient even; older than that too perhaps. But she DEFINITELY didn’t do any of that when she first encountered it, so: </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ahem,” Akko cleared her throat and let the chips fall where they may. “H-Hologarium! We really need you right now!” Ticking. Silence. Ticking. Silence. Akko went on. “The academy is under attack by vampires and monsters and we’re in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of trouble and people are </span>
  <em>
    <span>dying</span>
  </em>
  <span> out there!” The prisms shimmered and shimmied just as they did before. The words echoed, but never seemed to stick. “It’s… it’s too much! They’re too strong and we can’t save everyone! We can’t save </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span>! We’re trapped by some weird dome!” The chamber remained still, and Diana was beginning to feel hopelessness rise in her throat like bile, though Akko persisted as she always did. “We need your help, Horologium! We need you to stop time so that our friends outside the dome can go get help!” Diana’s hopelessness soon became replaced by uneasiness, no, paranoia. Diana looked around slowly, carefully; nothing. Eyes were upon them, but from where? Akko could sense it too, but her lips were firing off on auto-pilot at this point. “I know we shouldn’t be relying on something as dangerous and weird as you, but you’re our only hope! If we don’t buy time for our friends… then….” The fate they would suffer was too macabre for Akko to utter. “Just please! Help us!” Those were the last of her words, and upon saying them, every hair on her and Diana’s body stood up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A cold wind washed over them from sixty degrees down and to the right. Then from down and to the left, sixty degrees again, but hot this time. Finally, a third breeze fell upon them from above like heavy air, lukewarm, but unnatural. Both witches looked around more frantically now, and each of them instinctively reached for each other’s hands and wands. A flicker of light drew their attention back to the Horologium proper; the prism was spinning faster, slowly but surely. Another flash, the flutter of the softest wings behind them. Diana spun her head about, expecting to see butterflies, or maybe moths, but found only dead air. Akko’s eyes were kept focused on the crystal, affording her a glimpse into… something. It was inside the prism itself, or maybe the prism was reflecting it? Projecting it? It was hard to tell, but the prism was flashing as it spun now, and with each golden flash came the hints of a shape, or a scene.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They were blurry at first, indescribable hazes, but that didn’t last long. The flashes became brighter and brighter with each successive showing, and the images in turn became clearer, more defined. Diana turned her head back around to watch in awe and mild terror with her love as the shapes revealed themselves. They came disorientingly fast, and their content was hardly cohesive, as if they were seeing the compiled footage of botched slide-shows and reels of desiccated film cobbled together with duct tape and sorcery. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A cometous light, blazing across a night sky. Flowers in bloom, swaying in the wind, ten at first, each a different color: White, pure red, black, pale green, indigo, silver, a soft orange shade, one wilting and discolored, a deep purple, and one golden. Blink and there’s one less, but no one remembers the color it was meant to be; they hardly even remember there were ten at all. It falls away. Shattering glass, broken mirrors and windows. A robed reflection watches on through the shards, sullen, but patient. Another change, circling carrion under a pale grey sky, clouded and dreary. The view shunts down sharply to reveal a wounded dingo as it twitches and sputters in a desperate bid to cling to life. The shadow of a figure comes over it, human in shape, and then things change again. A crater, far off in some wasteland, lies smoldering and smoking. The view is near the ground, showing only the beginning of the slope. Vines begin to crawl and creep out, and the vision blinks away. An offscreen hand pushes, no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>nudges</span>
  </em>
  <span> another person, near featureless and unknowable, forward. A gentle touch to the back, and they fall forward while remaining dead still, like a statue. They nearly collide with the ground, but just a split second before the impact occurs, the vision shifts again to show a near incomprehensible view from within a massive swarm of moths. Glitters of gold and the wandering shape of an eye flits around as it appears between what space there is among the mouths, forming in the cracks, peering through the gaps, ephemeral as they may be. The moths fly about in a frenzy, and their panic only grows as embers clearly stir, and smoke begins to rise. Burning mouths start to drop from above, and the eye becomes more prominent until it takes up the center of the prism’s screen and blinks. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With it’s blink comes a bright flash of golden light, and for the briefest of moments, as Akko and Diana recover from the blinding ray, they see that self same figure now standing before them, within the Horologium, beyond what looks like a simple pane of glass: They are likely a woman based on the shape of their chin and fingers, though the rest is concealed beneath the unnatural shadow cast by their attire: They are robed in the purest and simplest gold and while their eyes cannot be seen, there is the intrinsic knowledge about the very air itself that this is someone who watches, who observes. Now though, they intervene.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> They raised their right hand and held up a relaxed palm, showing both age and youth in their wrinkles as it fluctuated; light brown was the tone of their flesh. They said no words, muttered no incants, but an unmistakable well of magic formed in their held out hand. It is bright, it is pretty, and it is oh so very alluring, as all forbidden things tend to be in one way or another. The light coalesces into shapes: Triangles refracting into triangles refracting into triangles refracting into—</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The kaleidoscopic well of magic grows and grows until it is the size of Akko’s own head, and until it is so bright as to force she and Diana both to cover their eyes for fear of permanent blindness. Even without their eyes though, they still see things, feel things; blood running down their noses, throbbing in the brain, the witch before them raising her left arm as if she were a falconer, and that same arm being roosted upon by a strange creature of wood and clocks and beaks and wings and eyes. On behalf of its pact-bound master, the spirit speaks:</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b><em>“N</em></b> <b><em>        o fret. You      right           time.”</em></b></p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>     o need t          You                 on     schedule.” </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>                           You  are  still            script.”</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Diana and Akko force themselves to look at the spirit beyond the light, befuddled beyond measure. Their confusion makes it chuckle, and it wink’s one of its innumerable eyes in response. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>“Don’t w                      has only taken two weeks.”</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>   o           This will only take a second.”</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>      r                          </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>                    r</em>
  </b>
</p><ol>

</ol>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The spirit’s grinning beak was the last thing Akko and Diana saw before all went still.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>THA-BWOOOOO-AAAAAAM!         </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And just as quickly as they knew there to be something strange and fantastical about it all, they forgot it all. The being in golden robes was gone. She was never there of course, and neither was her familiar and companion. Time simply stopped, leaving the two of them shielding their eyes against a non-existent, and never-existent, not-golden light. </span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Just two or so minutes prior…. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Did hiding behind a series of magically stacked desks and tables count as being safe? Probably not, but what else were the topside witches to do? Their wounded were either in critical condition, or out cold; fighting for them wasn’t an option outside of desperation. Then again, as Hannah held the rag to Barbara’s clotting head-wound, she was starting to think that they were all well past the point of desperation. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Akko and Diana had just descended down into the Horologium chamber, and while the still conscious witches were all relieved to have succeeded in their goal, many remained skeptical. Stopping time was their only option, but the very thought brought on no small amount of existential dread. It made the library eerily quiet, far too quiet for how loud the violence just outside was. All the hold up witches could do was cover their ears, block it out of their mind, and pray, or maybe ruminate; make peace and all that. To say the least: The situation was grave. It almost made Hannah happy that Barbara was out cold. It meant she didn’t have to dwell on these things as much. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jasminka kept the students in high spirits at least. She was a warming presence, and her display’s of bravery that night had firmly earned her the respect of just about everyone present, along with the sneaking suspicion that she’s batshit crazy. Who in their right goes to fight a Krokolon, worse, a vampire trained in martial combat, by engaging them in hand to hand combat!? If she had a deathwish, then she needn’t be so dramatic about it; death was all around them, and it didn’t discriminate. Of course, no one </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> thought Jasminka had a death wish. What they </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> thought was that there had to be some greater reason behind Jasminka’s… proclivity, we’ll call it, for eschewing her wand in favor of her fists. Of course, it was a question to be asked and answered in full another time, but suffice to say that Jasminka wouldn’t fare better if she relied on her magic when it came to defending herself and the ones she loved. And surprisingly, her thuggish and brazen fighting style took nothing away from her tenderness. She didn’t need to say much more often than not, and not saying things was probably for the better, even if the silence was dreadful. Her presence, her calming touch, the firmness of her posture and the simplicity of her expressions; boundless hope and determination flowed from it all. Everyone, even the more mentally prepared Antiquarians, needed someone like that around at times like this, especially with the knowledge that Ibrahim may have already fallen in battle. To the indigo clad witches, he was their Jasminka, in a much different, but all too familiar sense. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Many of them feared for the fates of their other coven mates, just as the other students fretted over the safety of their classmates, both younger and older. Suspicions and paranoia ran rampant through their minds, and no matter how much comfort there was to be found in those who sat and stood beside them now, none could claim that their success here was reassuring. So much was still left to doubt and chance, and worse, it didn’t seem like Akko and Diana had even completed their part in all of this. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What’s taking them so long!?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Hannah vented her frustrations within her own mind as she intermittently squeezed her own hands, tensing and relaxing them in a heartbeat like rhythm; a thoughtless tick on her part that came about due to stress. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Amanda and Constanze made it out already!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>At least, Hannah assumed as much. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“So why hasn’t anything changed!?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Was it supposed to be something she noticed? She didn’t know, and part of her didn’t care. She’d remain twitchy and thorny up until the point where she knew that help had arrived. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“God! They need to hurry up already!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>What else was she to do besides stew in her fear and impatience? Based on how tense and quiet the Antiquarians were, not much. That was about to change very quickly though. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Something was coming toward the library from on high. “Is that…?” It was unclear what it was at first, but it was coming at high speed, and showed no signs of stopping. “Oh no….” One of the Antiquarians at the window froze up. “Down! Get down!” The spotter shouted and lept for cover, followed quickly by the others at the windows. His call earned the rest of the witches just a few moments to redirect their attention to the westward wall and its tall panes of glass as the latter were crashed into by the plummeting body of a dead manticore. The manticore itself was maybe eight feet long, excluding its scorpion-like tail and leathery wings, and it was a beast that bristled with muscle and fat, and so its collision saw an entire length of the western wall cave in. Sharp shards filled the air and cut deep into any unfortunate flesh while fragments of stone and wood furnishings clattered about the tiled floor. Dust filled the room and billowed up a few feet over everyone’s heads, sending the witches into a coughing fit, and blinding them temporarily. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Shouts and calls rang out as everyone tried to collect themselves and their bearings. A few witches had been wounded, though they were lucky that none of it was severe, but barely anyone could see a damn thing, and the choking smoke was making casting difficult. Hannah herself stayed close to Barbara, and Jasminka had managed to fumble her way over to the wounded group. They were both glad to find that their makeshift barricades had kept the shrapnel at bay, but that seemed like the least of their worries in the face of the breached wall. A few students managed to find the stability and sense to cast through their coughing fits and disperse most of the smoke with a gust, but almost immediately afterward, they wished they remained blind. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The fallen manticore was just another enslaved casualty of battle for the Bathory’s, but the breach its corpse made in the wall would hardly go unnoticed and the dispersal of smoke all but confirmed any suspicions that the forces of Bathory may have had: There was prey here, trapped, wounded, and ripe for collection. First came a squadron of vampires atop dread steeds. They flew in from the roofs, having fared well amidst the aerial distraction that Sucy and her comrades had led. There were eight of them in total, and one of them was a garishly dressed lord who eyed the disoriented and scattered forces within the library with a wicked grin. From the ground came another group: A small mob of enslaved Fae and monsters had already begun creeping and crawling under the jagged and broken sections of the breach, and over the body of the deceased manticore. Those witches closest to the breach immediately made for safer grounds, tripping and fumbling themselves toward the eastern wall while the mob of monsters stalked forward, inch by bloody inch. It was almost uncanny how they walked so slowly, yet so maliciously, despite many of them no doubt having been peaceful and kind beings before The Fates’ magicks got to them. Worse yet, their slow approach, a creeping dread of sorts, made them seem even more cognizant of what was going on than any of the witches would have liked. Could they see what they were doing but not act otherwise? Were they fully willing in a sense, but misled by some grand illusion or trickery of the mind? No question that could be asked of this had a comforting answer. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wretches!” Called The Garish Lord as he postured himself pompously astride his unholy steed. “Me and my brothers in arms grow </span>
  <em>
    <span>bored</span>
  </em>
  <span> of such resistance…. So would you kindly just throw down your arms and fall in line please? I’d hate to make a mess of good stock.” He spoke with such casual disregard and petulant narcissism that one might think he mistakes this battlefield for a sunday stroll through a vineyard. “Oh, but what </span>
  <em>
    <span>delectable</span>
  </em>
  <span> vintages we have here!” Maybe that wasn’t a far fetched comparison after all. At the very least, his insufferable prattle was giving time for the witches to compose themselves into a loose defensive formation. Hannah and Jasminka specifically took up defending the wounded with their lives, holding their ground just before the barricade as best they could, despite the seemingly impossible odds before them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Garrish Lord went on, disregarding their movements. “Surely you have the good sense to surrender, no? Even </span>
  <em>
    <span>common folk</span>
  </em>
  <span> such as </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> must recognize that you’d be putting your good blood to waste!” A javelin wrenched from the armor of one of the slain vampires sent just past the lord's head was his answer. His steed bucked and brayed defiantly while The Garish Lord himself scoffed and adjusted the frills and decorations of his coat. “Hmmm!” He eyed the Antiquarian responsible for such a slight with lordly disdain. “It seems the chattel has decided to prove me wrong...!” He drew a saber from his hip in one blinding motion and waved it up high. “Make them regret that!” And so his loyal knights drew their weapons in turn whilst leaping from their steeds. They touched the ground gracefully, shot their predatory glances up toward their prey, and burst into a sprint while shouting battle cries. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“HAAAAAAAAAH!” Silvery steel and sharpened fangs came barreling toward the cornered witches in an arrowhead formation, and the maddened magical beasts lurched forward in turn. They went from walking eerily, silently, to charging, barking, hissing, shrieking, and snapping in a maddened frenzy. Together, they formed a tide of uncaring death, a tide that the Antiquarians and brave students would have to meet head on. In the fleeting time between those monstrous cries, the firing of the first spells, and the actual clash of teeth against wand and flesh, all of the witches who yet stood to fight remained relatively quiet. Those who might scream were too much in shock, and too driven by instinct to do so, and those more stoic or melancholy witches made peace with their lives. Some Antiquarians prayed to Ishtar, others prayed to various other gods of “mundane” religions, as did the students. It was all they could do, but it mattered to those who did it. Without any further recourse to be had, their last stand began in earnest: </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Disjointed as they were, the defiant defenders opened up with one powerful volley of spellcraft that more than stymied several of the attackers. Roots shot up and ensnared some attackers by the legs, terrible winds buffeted them on approach and bit them to their cores, shards of glass were levitated up and sent hurtling toward the tide, and all sorts of arcane blasts, bombs, and barrages laid into the fast approaching killers. A small handful died in that first volley, one of the seven knights included, and a dozen or so of the mob was wounded or impeded, but that wasn’t even hardly enough. Their impact was inevitable and—</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>THA-BWOOOOO-AAAAAAM!         </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And it would have to wait. Sepia took hold over the tones of the battlefield in a wave of chronomantic magicks. Time itself stood still, freezing every droplet of blood that dripped to the earth, every weapon raised regardless of intent, and every singular atom contained within the dome. Across the school, in the air, upon the earth, deaths deserved, unwarranted, and unnecessary alike were postponed. Spells became stuck in the air, blades found their swings halted just before they met skin, and gnashing fangs, pummeling fists, and killer claws all were rendered as statuesque art before the power of the Horologium. A blinding flash of white light signaled the spell's completion as it reached the outermost bound of the Fate summoned barrier, and so the battle was halted for a time. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The false storm above raged and rumbled. Dark clouds kept the truth of night and day a mystery, lest one looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> above the treeline. There, one might see the sun set and rise in slivers, just as they would with the moon. Days passed, becoming a week, and then two, until finally, in the wee hours of what seemed like a calm, peaceful morning, a flash of white light emanated from just outside of the dome as it shattered into pieces. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>MAAAAAA-OOOOOWB-AHT!</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Their impact was inevitable and inexorable. Magicks from the attacking Fae bore into the defenders as maledictions, curses, and blasts that blistered, burnt, and bloodied their bodies, to say nothing of the monstrous claws and jaws. Axes, swords, maces, and halberds fell upon the front line of witches with such fury that they shattered any ward spell summoned to deter them.  At least ten lost their lives off of the charge alone. Antiquarians, students; useless terms now. There was no distinction between “capture” and “kill” for this engagement. If the body made it back alive, it would be drained as planned. If not, the carrion would have their fill, and then the vampires would dispose of the body as one might be rid of an empty can. It was with this knowledge that the witches fought back with every fiber of their being. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Anything that could be used as a weapon was. Broken chair and table legs, chunks of stone from the wall, fists; all was fair game on top of the expected spellwork. It was a messy ordeal, and hardly one any of them expected to win after such a grizzly and ill-fated opening. Half of it was pure defiance; spite to spurn the bastards who would see their own lives, the lives of their friends, their guardians, to see all of this, Luna Nova included, ended. The other half was, again, instinct. What were humans but animals, and what was an animal who didn’t have </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> sort of inclination toward survival? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In short, it was carnage, chaos! Unwilling Fae lost their lives to witches who had no choice, and those same witches found themselves either being dragged off or gutted on the spot by monsters far greater than any were-beast or eldritch horror; the blades of Bathory reaped a bloody toll.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>One trio of witches managed to get cordoned off from the rest of their allies, having been stood at the edge of the formation. Two knights and unknowable amounts of enthralled Fae fell upon them, but the Antiquarian among them mustered up all of their might to emit a forceful barrier that pushed back their foes with a powerful shunt! The knights were staggered back and dazed while many of the monsters and Fae fell over one another, writhing and wriggling senselessly. The two witches, students, gave it their all when the opening was presented. The armor of the first knight was set to a boiling temperature, heated by a concentrated beam of magic, while the other levitated a sharpened wooden shard and sent it straight through the vampire’s softened armor and weak heart. This was the extent of their victory though, aside from wounding and idsorineting other Fae as they fought, for the remaining knight that engaged them cut one of the students down in cold blood before quickly disarming and downing the other and the Antiquarian. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Another knight grew too brave for his bite and found himself in the midst of the witches fighting formation. With his axe, he spun about and wounded several, dismembering one at the hand, thinking himself to be in the perfect place, only for an Antiquarian to wrap their arms around him from the back while jabbing a magicked dirk repeatedly into their chest, searching for the heart. Eventually, the mark was found, and the vampire went down in a blaze and clatter. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Fae and monsters fared seldom better, with no small amount of them being flung backward by powerful arcane blasts, though at least one witches suffered a similar fate when a possessed suit of armor got a hold of her and tossed her against the eastward wall like a rag doll. </span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So desperate and mad was the situation that some of the mortally wounded witches forced themselves to stand just so they could fire off last ditch spells, and not a single soul noticed the flash of white light that emanated from the secret stairway leading down to the Horologium. Everyone, friend and foe, assumed it to just be another part of the insane battle that was occuring, and why would they think otherwise? Life and death were on the line for the defenders, and glory before their queen was the prize for the knights. There was no room for gawking, for even a momentary lapse in judgement would allow any of the combatants to gain an advantage on the other. Not even Jasminka and Hannah were afforded even a half-second without being involved in the action. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The latter used her relative mastery over Fae magicks to redirect many of the curses and maledictions sent the way of the defenders by the enthralled. A frothing bugbear earned one particularly nasty Fae curse from Hannah, causing it’s fur to become a crawling hive for illusory spiders that left very real bites all over it. The chitinous and furry beast roared and scratched at itself frantically before falling over onto its back, no doubt crushing some poor thralls on its way down. She wasn’t pleased one bit to see them suffer at all, but she had no choice. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jasminka was similarly displeased, though she held no such remorse for the knight who came to threaten her and the wounded. He charged forward with his halberd in a bid to chop apart the defenders and barricade alike, revealing the “defenseless” witches beyond them, but Luna Nova’s finest chef wouldn’t allow it. Just as the knight made to slash downward, Jasminka rushed forward and threw her hands up to grip the halberd by its haft in an attempt to wrest it from the knights control. It bought her time, and the struggle was admirable, but Jasminka failed to keep control of it, resulting in the knight finding an opening where he managed to throw Jasminka to the right, shaking her off just enough so that he could quickly smack her with the metal butt of the halberd, further dazing her. She stumbled back and crashed against one of the bookcases, sending more tomes and scrolls clattering to the floor. Her head was abuzz with a terrible ringing sound, and she held the now bleeding wound on her skull as her vision came to just in time for her to see the wind up of the knight’s swing. Acting on instinct and reflex alone, she went to ground. The blade of the halberd missed its mark and splintered a section of wood off of the bookcase, forcing the knight to momentarily struggle to free it. In that time, Jasminka scrambled forward while on the ground, eventually tackling him out from underneath, sending both of them to the ground. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The knight was on his back, and Jasminka had gained the upper hand. She wasted no time before she tried to throttle him by the helmet, but her effort was for naught. A swift jab to her jaw felled her, putting her on her own back and giving the knight ample room to recover. Jasminka on the other hand writhed in stinging agony, having felt her jawline possibly crack from the strength of a singular flow. Wordlessly she held her face and rolled on her side, helpless to do much else for the moment, while the knight summarily collected his halberd and twirled it once. “You fought well…!” Then he raised it high. “For a heathen!” But he never got the chance to follow through with the swing. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Phwwwwwhht! </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“OI! JACKASSES!” A whistle and taunt, louder than any aspect of the battle, amplified by a floating and magical megaphone, stopped the battle just about dead in its tracks. Heads were turned, brawls were parted, and even the maddened Fae couldn’t help but search for the source of the disruption. They found it standing in the once darkened stairwell: A cocksure, flamingo haired, faux-cowboy hat wearing, dark leather jacket sporting, sword wielding witch, stood beside a much smaller witch clad in navy with dark grey hair and armed with a modified magical-mechanical rifle of sorts.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Garrish Lord could hardly stomach the first offense sent his way, and now his entertainment was being interrupted. “What!?” By two </span>
  <em>
    <span>upstart</span>
  </em>
  <span> blackguards nonetheless! “How </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare</span>
  </em>
  <span> you stymy my glorious</span>
  <span>—!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah! Can it asshole!” Amanda spat in his general direction. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A-Amanda!?” Hannah could hardly believe what she was hearing. Amanda was not only back already, but— </span>
  <em>
    <span>“SHE’S WASTING TIME WITH TAUNTS!?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hannah didn’t know whether to be furious or joyous. At the very least, it was drawing the attention of the Fae who began to peel away from the main engagement and threateningly posture themselves a few meters from Amanda and Constanze.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Garrish Lord was flabbergasted, offended, beyond reproach! He flusteredly boiled and babbled his words. “W-Why I…! YOU!” He waved his saber, a most likely decorative and useless blade, at his minions and knights. “ARE YOU JUST GOING TO STAND THERE OR—!?” But Amanda wouldn’t let him get another word in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I got a better idea!” Constanze cocked her blaster while Amanda casually beckoned behind her. Bright blue flames emerged from the dark, sprouting up in pairs; eyes of fire. They stood tall just behind Amanda and Constanze, providing just enough definition to the dark to reveal skulls wrapped in bandaging, obscured by black brim hats: The Balefire had come. “Why don’t you bite on something as old as you?” As if that were an order in of itself, the skeletal hunters stepped out from the stairwell and formed a concave formation with Amanda and Constanze at the head; weapons drawn, eyes ablaze, and moth eaten capes flowing in the winter winds that blew in from the westward breach. The eyes of witches and vampires went wide all the same. The former were completely baffled by what they were witnessing, and the latter felt a newly remembered sense of </span>
  <em>
    <span>fear</span>
  </em>
  <span> as their ancient foes returned to finish what had begun centuries ago. Fear was quickly replaced by prideful rage though, and so they left the nearly defeated pocket of defenders to instead focus their blades on the undead hunters. The monsters, knights, and undead hunters shifted and postured their battlelines accordingly while the beleaguered and wounded defenders got their bearings and reformed their own ranks; just Amanda had hoped. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Another calm fell over the library then, one final moment of peace before the eye of the storm had passed. The only noises being made were maddened gurgles and grumbles from the Fae, and the threatening hisses from the vampire knights who steeled their unbeaten hearts. “Tch!” The Garrish Lord scoffed. “I could care less for you or your slovenly swordsmen!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good to know the feeling’s mutual!” It didn’t take a genius to guess who snapped back so casually. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“BAH! Enough of this!” Like a ruffled peacock, the lord bristled and shook in his saddle.  “You will all die here!”  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda ran her blades’ edges along each other, sending a few wayward sparks to the floor. “You first!” And with that, she threw Carnwennan just over the crowd and let all hell break loose. The lines charged one another in an all out assault. The vampire knights roared, the beasts and Fae enthralled to them screamed in turn, and the undead knights hissed their death rattles. Bodies were tossed, skulls were bashed, heads rolled, and spells filled the air all over again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda seized the initiative and followed after her shadowy dagger in a puff of smoke right when it sailed past The Garrish Lord’s steed. The risen horse bucked back as Amanda manifested, and in one spinning slash down to the ground, she chopped its head clean off with Dyrnwyn and sent both the horse and its ride plummeting down. It was a short drop, allowing Amanda an easy landing, though the lord hardly had a chance to dismount let alone steady himself, and so he was sent rolling away with his blade. He had been laid low, but only in honour, and for all his pomp and circumstance, no vampire lord was to be underestimated. He quickly threw himself up into a flip from his rolling tumble and properly landed on his feet this time. “INSOLENCE!” It was the last coherent thing he managed to bellow as he collected his saber and rushed Amanda down, commencing their duel with a flurry of quick high and low slashes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze held the line and supported the hunters in the meantime. She fired slug after slug into the foray from behind as more undead hunters filtered out of the stairwell. With every pump and pull she downed one foe, and then switched her sights onto another; rinse and repeat. The hunters, with her aid, made quick work of some of the most dangerous of foes. The vampire knights faced them immediately, eager to gain glory and honour through defeating their old foe, but all they earned were ignoble and quick ends. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The one knight who had almost killed Jasminka gutted one hunter with a quick stab and slash of his halberd, only to find his foe still standing. In that brief moment of realization and confusion, the skeletal hunter shrugged off it’s non-wound, backhanded the knight with inhuman strength, and brought the fat end of his rusty claymore down on the knight’s helmet with a mordhau strike!</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Another knight, wielding a mace and shield, ran into a similar issue when he crushed the skulls of one of the hunters into a powdery mist. The skeletal warrior was bashed back, dropped their weapons, and stumbled around aimlessly. Underneath his helm, the knight grinned and made ready to strike at another, only for his hopes to be dashed by that selfsame hunter as they opened up in a flurry of wanton attacks with their shortsword. The knight was put on the defensive, being pushed back into his own ranks of Fae “allies,” forced to cower behind his shield as the hunter cut down three monsters that tried to intervene while keeping up its headless assault. Finally, his guard was broken when one of the sightless sword swings saw the blade lodged behind the shield, allowing the hunter to pry the shield to the side. The knight, in a panic, swung his mace for the hunter’s midsection and obliterated the skeleton for good, but in that same moment, another skeletal hunter had leapt up in a blur over the crowds in order to take advantage of the opening. The knight’s eyes widened, and he began to shout out of fear, but he was made quiet with a singular stab to his heart as the spear wielding hunter landed on him. Needless to say, the vampires weren’t used to fighting warriors who could take as much, if not more punishment, than they ever could.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Not like the Bathory forces in the library were faring much better against any mortal threat now that the Antiquarians and students had been afforded some relief. They laid into the horde of now dwindling Fae from behind, binding, incapacitating, and downing them by any magical means necessary. Some broke off from the melee with the hunters to charge them down, but now that the whole focus of the fight wasn’t on them, the less martially minded witches were able to defend themselves easily. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And then there was Amanda and her duel: The Garrish Lord was quick, but so was Amanda, thanks to Carnwennan and crafty use of Phos spells. She was going by Maxwell’s advice to the fullest here: Don’t get into melee if you don’t have to, control the flow of battle, stay on the offense, and, of course, disrespect them to hell and back. They dashed in and out of each other’s reach, crossing blades and dodging kicks and pommel bashes in a chaotic and deadly dance, one that only paused when Amanda used her burning spells to afford herself some distance. “Damn twinkle toes!” Amanda yelled after blasting the noble vampire back with a gout of flame from Carnwennan. “You might make me break a sweat here!” She was sweating already, of course, and her lungs were hard pressed for air as is without the gloating, but it was all about putting on the airs of confidence. Luckily for Amanda, she had about twenty one years to practice that whole “fake it until you make it” thing. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Meanwhile The Garrish Lord had about five centuries to build up an unassailable idea of himself. “HHHRRRRAAAAAGH!” He brandished his saber with unholy abandon, cutting the air in a psychotic frenzy that not even Amanda could have blocked; so she didn’t. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She took a low posture and readied her swords for another charge. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Alright….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Time seemed to slow as she squinted and exhaled sharply. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Come on.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Then she ran at him as if she wasn’t in danger at all. “Ars Ellera…!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“DIIIEEEE!” Just before the insane vampire cut her to ribbons, threw Carnwennan past his storm of steel and appeared behind. Of course, the lord was </span>
  <em>
    <span>far</span>
  </em>
  <span> too one-track-minded to realize it quickly enough, and so he kept going for three meters too many. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“INFLAMARA!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When he finally glanced back over his shoulder and spun his body about to continue his rampage, he saw Amanda spinning toward him like a pair of burning helicopter blades! He brought his saber back around to deter it, but there was no way he could dash aside such powerful blows! Blow after blow, cut after cut! Carnwennan and Dyrnwyn dug deep into the vampire’s gut and chest with every revolution! The former kept Amanda’s momentum in a perpetual twirl as wind magicks, while Dyrnwyn burned the wounds of the vampire with its fiery edge! Alas though, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> unsheathed in full. The flames were a fleeting thing, summoned up by Amanda’s spell, and fueled by the brightly burning fire within. She was a blur! A dervish of death! Her hat had no business staying on her head, but who was counting? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“ONE!” Amanda was, actually. “TWO!” Her spinning slowed down immensely, and she turned her quick slashes into heavy handed, fully swung strikes. “THREE!” The third blow did it: The Garrish Lord was bisected, his waist separated from his stomach, and his loathsome unlife ended in a flourish of embers as Amanda got low, her right foot forward, and her arms held out at her sides. “Hah!” The fire within grew hot. Her hair danced briefly like wayward flames. Her eyes flashed with sparks. She was grinning like an idiot, and then the dizziness set in. “Ah… shit…! Ugh!” Her hair’s heat died down, her eyes turned to their normal green, and her heart cooled down. She stumbled back upright and turned herself toward the fight that raged on in the library proper. “Right… gimme a sec!” She waved Carnwennan woozily at the engagement as she coughed back a small bit of bitter bile. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze and company didn’t need her help anyway. They had things under control as it was. The melee was going in their favor. The last of the vampires fell to The gunslinging Witch Smith’s deadshot aim, a hole through his heart being his sendoff, and the Fae were starting to be overcome with instinctual fear as their “allies” started dropping like flies. The magic of the witches combined with the age old skill of the undead hunters proved too much for them; a rout was imminent. Constanze wasn’t one to simply wait for the inevitable though, no, she took the initiative into her own hands! She raised her left hand and aimed her golden gauntlet at the rafters. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>CHK!</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The chain and dagger shot out, finding their mark in the wooden support beams, and affording Constanze the perfect path upward. She flew upward to the rhythmic sound of clanking chain links and landed herself steadily by kicking her boots up just as she reached the roof. Now up high, she raised her blaster up with her right hand to loosen the valve with her more awkwardly positioned hand before she let the burning underbarrel hang down toward the maddened masses below. All it took from there was a single pull of the trigger and the dragon’s flame was unleashed! Huge clouds of fire and ruin fell upon the enthralled, burning and smoldering the air itself! It was no napalm thrower, far from it, but heat like that was no joke, and the Fae that </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>catch fire found themselves running off in a panic almost immediately. The true danger the flamethrower posed though lay in the psychological, for even while sympathically influenced, the minds of the beings beneath knew well that when flames started to roar, it was time to run. The rout came into full effect with one more forceful burst of fire from on high, and so the remaining Fae were scattered to the outside in a fearful mob. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A dozen or so ran straight past Amanda, not even paying mind to her as a threat, and vice versa. Dizziness aside, Amanda wouldn’t take much joy in fighting those who had no choice; with luck, they’d find a way to break the curse before the day was done, but that was a problem to be addressed later. The library was emptied of threats, witches were wounded, and the battle yet raged across the wider stretches of the island and campus. “Alright!” Amanda wiped her daze away and sheathed her twin blades before jogging over to meet with the others. “Let’s get a handle on things people! We ain’t even halfway done with this!”” Hardly a direct order, but it served as a signal to be somewhat at ease. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It gave the cornered witches cause to sigh with the utmost relief, allowing them to refocus their magical efforts on the wounded while the baleful hunters cleaned their blades and took up a defensive perimeter around the library. A few of them were missing limbs and even heads at this point, though they seemed quite capable of putting themselves back together provided they weren’t just piles of dust. Of course, the living witches were farless capable of shrugging off mortal wounds, and so Constanze, after having dropped down from the ceiling, silently ordered a few of the risen hunters to aid her and the others in tending to the fallen. Around that same time, Diana, Akko, Dino, Drew, Harper, and Lotte peaked their heads out of the stairwell. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Each of them was dreadfully confused, first by how they even got there, and secondly by how in the hell Amanda and Constanze managed to get an entire platoon’s worth of ancient hunters roused from their crypts. Well, it wasn’t really the how that confused them, in truth. They saw Amanda wake them up, at least, Lotte did alongside Harper’s trio: It was as simple as Amanda yelling loudly into a dank and dusty chamber that they suddenly appeared in; the one Amanda initially found the flame of the Balefire in. She said something along the lines of </span>
  <em>
    <span>“HEY! Who wants to help put Bathory’s ass back in the dirt where she belongs!?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>After realizing where they had ended up. A few moments later, and the bandaged, black coated squadrons of the undead hunters shambled out of their tombs without even a sliver of hesitation. Then there was a flash of light and suddenly they were standing right behind Akko and Diana. Needless to say, they almost had a heart attack. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Was… this a part of your… plan, Lotte?” Diana’s woes were almost entirely gone. She couldn’t fathom any emotion in the face of such bewildering circumstances. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I-I didn’t make the plan!” Lotte shook her head and waved her hands up innocently. “I just talked to the spirit and then… we were… there and now we’re here and…!” She remembered Amanda talking about these skeletons but hardly expected to actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>see</span>
  </em>
  <span> them any time soon. Hell, even Malitrix was oddly silent about all of this; was that bemusement on her expressionless skull of a face? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Does it really matter…?” Drew got to the point, of course. A few silent seconds passed before Akko took charge. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Probably not!” She was even blunter than Drew in many ways, not that the situation didn’t call for it. “So let’s stop wasting time being confused and help out!” She marched out of the stairwell, wand at the ready, followed by Diana first, Harper, Dino and Drew afterward, and Lotte last. The lattermost, like many of the other students, could hardly bear the sight of the library in such a state, while the Antiquarians, Diana, and even Akko did their best to keep up a brave appearance. There was no way they could really hide the prickling discomfort and sickness that welled up within them, but they felt like they had to, if only for the sake of those around them. Panicking would only make things worse.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Together, united in purpose, all of the parties present attended to the most grievously injured first. None of them were field doctors, but Diana’s mastery over restorative magicks, combined with the surprising medical wisdom of one skeletal hunter, who could only use hand drawn words to communicate, no doubt managed to save lives. All the while, Amanda and her way over to where Hannah, Barbara, and Jasminka were holed up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The pink haired Russian was sat up against one of the bookcases, holding her chin tightly while Constanze applied a soothing layer of frost to help numb the pain. Hannah and Barbara were sat just beside them, the former still seeing to the latter’s recovery with what healing magicks she knew. Thankfully, Barbara was starting to come to, and to her boundless joy, the first thing she saw upon waking was Amanda kneeling down before her. “A… Amanda…?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Easy there,” The fireveined hunter spoke gently, and her touch was no less soft. She stroked Barbara’s cheek and gripped her left hand tightly. “We’ve got ya. Just hold tight and stay awake, ok?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmmmhmm…. God, what…?” Barbara blinked slowly, intentionally, shaking off her grogginess. She caught sight of the skeletal hunters as her vision cleared, and she nearly screamed, though Amanda covered her mouth before she set off any false alarms. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Woah, woah, chill Babs!” Amanda clenched her teeth as if she were walking a tightrope. “They’re with us!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hannah took a long look at Amanda and then the hunters, then she looked at Amanda agin, no less confused than she was at the start. “Amanda…. Did you… did you use necromancy?” It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>highly</span>
  </em>
  <span> illegal as far as witching society went, but, honestly, at this point, Hannah wouldn’t put it past her devil may care of a lover. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“NEMCROMAMCEE?!” Barbara pushed Amanda’s hand away and spoke clearly. “YOU COMMITTED NECROMANCY!?” She wouldn’t be that surprised either if she didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>vividly</span>
  </em>
  <span> remember the punishment that Lukic read aloud regarding the fate of necromancers. No one ever managed to make it clear if those punishments were </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> adhered too though, or if they were merely a scare tactic, but that just made them more ominous! </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok, hold the fuck on! I did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> commit necromancy!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Haaaaaaaaaaahhh….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A looming hunter of the Balefire gave his opinion on the matter. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda didn’t even bother to turn, “You’re not helping!” Though she did wave a finger at him from over her shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hmmmmhrghmmm….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A lazy roll of the shoulders was all he offered in turn before shuffling on to take up a post by the breach. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hannah sighed deeply. “I’m… I’m just going to assume that, for all of our sakes, you’re telling the truth.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Constanze peered over and shot Hannah a reassuring nod. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“She isn’t lying.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Hannah was probably one of the worst when it came to understanding Constanze’s non-speech, but the expression was enough of a clue. “Long story. Tell you another time.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s probably for the best....” Hannah kept shaking her head slowly as she reached for the reddened towelette she’d been using to help staunch Barbara’s bleeding. The bookworm noble sighed in turn before she hissed and tensed up when the towel was applied. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hhsssss! Ow!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, Barbara.” Hannah squeezed her burnette lover’s shoulder with her free hand. “You got hit pretty hard…. Just try and sit still, because this is probably gonna hurt more, so….” Green lights emanated from her fingertips, the beginnings of a regenerative spell. Wordlessly, Barbara opened her mouth and before biting down on her lips and kicking at the floor exhaustedly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Easy, Babs.” Amanda offered a hand over to be squeezed and Barbara accepted it wordlessly. “Easy.” She damn near crushed Amanda’s fingers in a death grip, though Amanda hardly minded. Anything for her two greatest loves.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In time, as the spell ran its course, she allowed herself to ease up, breathe deeply, and relax as her skin and bones mended just enough to stop the worst of the bleeding. All thanks to  a nifty little spell Diana taught Hannah a few years back. “There…. That should hold up for a little while.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Barbara kept her eyes closed as she forced a nod and a quiet. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Thank you.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She released her grip on Amanda’s hand then, allowing her body to go limp as she recovered.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With the hard part over, Amanda herself gave Hannah and Barbara a long look, one marked by an unbeatable smile. No, no, not the kind of cocky grin she wore around while taking the piss out of every thing which came her way! The kind shared between lovers: Tender, simple, earnest in all ways, and most importantly of all, one she didn’t even realize she was making. Barbara didn’t see it at first, but Hannah found herself unable to resist smiling just a little in return. “I thought about you two every day, you know that right?” Words spoken softly, but with the plainness and slight gruffness of the butch woman that Amanda was, sent the hearts of Hannah and Barbara fluttering, despite all the doom and death about them. A quiet moment followed. Barbara opened her eyes and met the trio’s gaze. They thought about the last few arguments they had, how they sent each other off, and now the trials that yet lay before them. “And I’ll be thinking about you every step of the way until we beat these SOB’s.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We know.” Hannah spoke for them both, and for once, she did so without stepping on Barbara’s toes. “And we’ll be thinking about you.” Barbara nodded in agreement and pulled Amanda’s hand over to her lap. Hannah joined in and put her own hand overtop the other two and gave a squeeze that trickled down through her fingers and ran up their arms like electricity; their hairs stood on end. It had only been minutes and yet it had also been weeks; how fickle time was. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve done a lot more than just think though.” Amanda eyed her free hand, spotting the unfinished insignia of the order. “Well, I did do a ton of that, but uh, I’d like to think I’ve done a lot to be better for you two…. I mean, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> what I </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do for you… and….” Constanze elbowed her gently. The two sisters shared a casual and comforting glance. “And for myself.” Hannah and Barbara both felt tears well up in their eyes. Amanda on the other hand skipped that step entirely and just let the occasional droplets fall as they may. Still, she spoke plainly, calmly, as if she weren’t weeping at all. “I know it’s probably a bad time to really talk about this, but uh… I took what you guys said to heart and… and I’ve come out better for it. I ain’t gonna be playin’ fast and loose with my life or time no more. Maybe I’ll die young but I’ll be damned if I don’t live that young life to its fullest with you two.” She chuckled a little then as the realization struck her. “And all I needed to do was go on some stupidly dangerous cross-country trip to realize that.” At that, she earned the most mixed, but utterly endearing expressions she could have ever received from Hannah and Barbara both. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They were </span>
  <em>
    <span>mad</span>
  </em>
  <span> to know that Amanda had gone off and nearly gotten herself killed </span>
  <em>
    <span>again</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but they knew the situation called for it, loathsome as it was. Hells, they even advocated for her to be the one to entrust their fates with! But above all of that, more important than any circumstance or demand, their past angers and frayed tensions over their trifecta of love fell away at the sound of Amanda’s simple, but genuine words: They knew the words she spoke just then to be some of the most</span>
  <em>
    <span> honest </span>
  </em>
  <span>one’s she’d ever said in her entire life. “Well, Barbara,” Hannah wiped away her own tears. A smile graced her face, her soul has reconciled to there being a better future for the three of them at the end of this dark, dim tunnel. “It seems our little </span>
  <em>
    <span>broom knight</span>
  </em>
  <span> decided to learn something about honour on her quest.” Hannah’s romantic tendencies aside, was this, by any means, the time or place to make flirtatious jokes?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>No, and Barbara’s slightly pained and tired voice spoke to that. “It seems she has….” Then again, so did her own emergent smile. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How should we reward her?” But was inappropriate timing going to stop them anyway?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmmm….” Hell the fuck no. “Like this.” Barbara leaned in and gave Amanda a quick kiss, and so too did Hannah just a moment afterward, then they shared one between each other, completing the quaint little gesture. “There. Ngh…. I’d say we’re even now.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Y-Yeah.” Amanda, with cheeks alight like the vegas strip, true to Nelson’s metaphor, adjusted her hat and rose to her feet. “I’d say so.” If only moments like this could last forever. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“O’Neill, Constanze.” Alas, everyone knew that a war was at hand, and it wouldn’t wait for any romance; Diana most of all. “We’ve stabilized anyone that we could….” Regret and guilt dripped from her tongue. “But we lost Maria to bleeding.” The name of that unfortunate fourth year witch hanged in the air like bitter cigar smoke. The New Nine didn’t know her well, but just like every other witch that had already fallen here, Antiquarian or student, they had lives, families, loves. “.... It could have been worse….” Always. It could </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> be worse. “Much worse.” She found it difficult to make eye contact with Amanda, or anyone for that matter. Each death, both known in certainty and imagined, bit down into Diana’s mind. Chariot’s, above all else, weighed down her brow, leaving her with a perpetual scowl. “You came just in time…. Thank you.” It seemed hard for her to make such a simple statement. Rage and regret were on the mind, swirling about, stewing within. Constanze could practically smell that familiar odour of vengeful thoughts just by glancing at the Cavendish Heir. The quiet, stonewalled witch could only imagine what vexxed Diana so thoroughly that she seemed even more brooding and bitter than herself. “Now, there’s still a lot we have to handle,” Alas, it was a fleeting realization. “So, given that you two seem to be… in </span>
  <em>
    <span>command</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” She wasn’t sure if that was the right word, even if it indeed was. “Of this counterattack, we’ll defer to you for orders.” Not just Diana and Akko of course, but all of the witches still present. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze glanced over her shoulder part way through Diana’s explanation before she stood up and dislodged her wand from her blaster. “Mmm. More than just us. We have witches just off shore. Fighting their way to us. Calling them now.” A whispered spell and a flick of the wrist brought up a small holo-magical screen. Hannah, Barbara, and Jasminka stood up while Akko and Lotte shuffled in from the crowd, curious as to what the next step was. A short few moments later and the connection was established: “Maxwell. Benjy. Matron. Do you copy?” Static followed, then came the sounds of broombound combat. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Constanze!? Is that you!? Hard to hear with—AGH!” Maxwell encountered some untimely </span>
  <em>
    <span>turbulence. “Burron Baevorra!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The sounds of magic sparked over the connection, followed by Maxwell’s terse questioning. “Have you made it to the academy yet!?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Inside. At the library. Area is secure. Need to move on. Give us a status.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Matron Sorcerer’s voice came over the line then. “Our battle is nearly won,” She sounded strangely calm, though she wasn’t completely relaxed. “We’ve lost many, but we have the upper hand….” Doubt crept into her tone. “Though I fear for our ability to continue. We will fight on, but if the isle is as treacherous as you say—”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maxwell butted in. “We can handle it!” Maybe he was in denial. “But we’ll need you to retake the school first! If we can establish a forward base to continue our attack, then we can cordone off any of the beasties and Fae in the forest with ease!” Or maybe he had a daring plan in mind. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda leaned in to be heard. “Alright, but what about all of the fliers over Luna Nova? Last we saw we were getting our asses handed to us up there!” Sucy’s wing of Antiquarians had fought well, and continued to struggle, but if they didn’t get aid soon, then they were doomed to fail. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If you get a chance to chip in then do it!” Maxwell grunted as he made a dangerous maneuver to dodge on his broom. “Otherwise just leave it to us!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“AND ME! Don’t go forgettin’ about us now!” Benjy was on the line now. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze squinted. “Benjy. Status.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“BAD!” Benjy jerked hard on the wheel. “But not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> bad! Savvy!?” Was he having </span>
  <em>
    <span>fun</span>
  </em>
  <span> with this? “We’re ‘bout two thirds our way round the horn! We’ll be docked in no time, and my escort can come help ya then!” The sounds of an ever angry sea serpent hissed in from far off. “ASSUMIN’ WE DON’T SINK!” Then came torrential waters, the gurgling of fishmen and other deep sea monsters. “BLOODY HELL GET ME MY ROD! I’M HAVIN’ AT THESE VILLAINS WITH ME OWN HANDS!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Diana, Akko, Hannah, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> Barbara all gave Amanda and Constanze the most “done” of looks. All they could do in response was shrug. “Benjy. Listen. Focus on making it to shore. Do not sink. Repeat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Do not sink!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” It was his only task as far as Constanze was concerned. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But did Benjy listen? “BENJY’S CATCHIN’ A BIG ONE TONIGHT!” Maybe, it was hard to tell. Regardless, his connection was cut, so all the island bound group could do was hope. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“... We will see you soon.” The Matron Sorceress followed suit. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Aye! Stay strong! And remember our bloody oath!” Then Maxwell dipped as well, returning his focus to the battle. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ohhh-kaay….” Amanda nodded slowly, but got her fire burning in her voice as quick as she could. “Right! You heard the man!” She wasn’t just talking to her cohort of New Nine anymore, but to the room at large. “We’re takin’ this school back inch by inch! Floor by floor! And we’re gonna need every witch who can fight on deck! You hear!?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The skeletal hunters gasped out a harrowing battle cry as they raised their swords and spears in agreement. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Hraaaaaaaah!”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Antiquarians and students who yet had fight in them, around twelve or so in number, joined in with a weaker, but awe inspiring yell. “Yaaaah!” Mortal and beleaguered as they were, much like the many witches and locals who came to Luna Nova’s aid, persistence proved more powerful than any vampiric peril. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It struck each of the present members of the New Nine like a thunderbolt of inspiration, bringing a second wind of confident smiles to their faces if only for a brief moment; all but Diana, at least. She was just too deeply strung out on her guilt and regret to even acknowledge the faint starlight that lit their path forward. Constanze spotted it quick, and the sight dashed her own reassurance to the ground. She thought she saw glimmers of vengeance about Diana’s visage, similar emotions and hatred to what she still felt in her own heart, but it was… different. “Then listen up and listen good! I got an idea!” Again, fleeting moments and fleeting realizations proved to be just that; passing. Amanda was laying out their battle plans, and not even Constanze was sure of what to do now; a strange feeling for the typically tactical witch. She leaned in a bit; all eyes and ears were upon Amanda. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, so if we’re gonna dig in here we need to get the whole building on lockdown! Boney boys!” The skeletal hunters begrudgingly acknowledged their newly given nickname. “I want you split into fours!” A suave finger-snap conjured up a floating, holo-mical map of the school’s layout. “We’re on the east end and we’ve got </span>
  <em>
    <span>a lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of ground to cover! I want two groups going along the north halls and two going along the south! One takes the lower floors, the other takes the upper levels; each!” Constanze saw her sister’s orders realized. Silently, she got to work pointing out the hunters and cordoning them off into four separate squads. Amanda continued: “While the hunters take point, I want Diana to lead the rest of you through the sewers! Get the wounded out ASAP through the Sanctum. Once they’re safe, sweep around and pop up on the west side!” She faced Amanda and company while thumbing back to her hunters. “You can fight your way to meet up with our friends here! We’ll sandwich the bastards on one end and then do it all over again on the other!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess that puts us in group two then eh?” Dino, Harper, and Drew stepped forward, ready and willing. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmmm.” Constanze interjected and gave her sister a look; she had her own strategy in mind. Amanda acquiesced with a tip of the hat. “You three are with us.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Akko and Lotte both gave each other mildly concerned looks. “Um, wait, you never said where you guys were going!” Exclaimed the former. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The roof.” Constanze fitted her wand and blasted back together in one quick motion. “No way for help to land safely right now. Need to fix that.” The airborne battle was being won, but it seemed hard fought. The best thing they could do to help them would be to make their arrival as smooth as possible. That, and perhaps selfishly, Constanze couldn’t deny that she was quite paranoid over the absence of Sucy. She had taken to the air when Amanda and Constanze first escaped, so either the worst had already come to pass, or she was still dogfighting, and needed their help. To that end, Constanze sought aid in securing the upper levels: “Harper. Take Dino and Drew. Go along the upper north halls. We’ll take the south.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Harper breathed sharply. “Got it!” She kept her posture straight and her head high. “Dino, Drew, you with me?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What? You mean we got a choice at this point?” Even Drew managed a sardonic sort of smirk. He agreed, of course. “As long as you’re leading.” And Dino gave a quieter but no less important thumbs up. Harper gave each of them a long respectful look before she turned back to Amanda and Constanze.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then I guess we’ll see you topside.” Harper gripped her wand tight and bit her lower lip. She told herself she was ready, but by the Nine was she unprepared. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda, at the least, managed to shoo away some of that dread with a two finger salute and a signature, cocksure smile. “See you topside, Harper.” And with that, everyone knew their place. A half second more of calm passed in the library, only to be shattered by the distant wail of some possessed monster followed by blasts of arcane might. The time for tactics was done. “Alright people, time to shoot the works!” Amanda drew her blades, and all else drew their own wands and weapons. “Let’s move out!” She led the charge alongside her sister. Fire coursed through their veins, and a chain unseen bound them together. Vaal and Jehanne willing, the Bathorys would regret ever coming here.</span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Some time later….</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The tensions ran as high as Konstantin’s war room. From his balcony, he and Katalin could take in the full breadth of the battle through the eyes of their spy glasses. “We’ve broken through the north-eastern wing….” They had their eyes upon the place ever since The Fates flew off to be about their business. “That should mean we have warriors in every corner of the compound. Now we need only wait for the holdouts to be flushed from cover.” Konstantin lowered his spyglass and wrinkled his nose before he slowly turned to one side. He faced a thin podium stood just beside a silvery and ornate birdcage, though its resident was very much a bat and not a bird. The podium held a stack of small parchment papers and a simple inkwell and pen. With it, Konstantin wrote similarly simple orders: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Make no daring advances. Grind them out. Let the enthralled serve their purpose. The enemy will tire before day breaks.” </span>
  </em>
  <span> With his will written, he rolled up the parchment and placed it neatly into a capsule which he gave to the messenger bat. Wordlessly, he gestured down toward the battlefield below and so the bat took flight. “Now what of our forward assault?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s going…” Katalin pursed her lips and clicked her tongue. “Poorly.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Konstantin raised a brow and stepped to her side. He raised his spyglass back up to his eye and took a look for himself. “Hmmf. Hardly.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Katalin turned her head sharply. “Hardly!? They outnumber us two to one!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>After</span>
  </em>
  <span> having combined the efforts of their eastern and central fronts.” Konstantin, calm as ever, slowly lowered and closed shut his spyglass. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Katalin on the other hand was unable to keep her cool “As if that changes anything! We’re being overwhelmed!” She gestured wildly toward the offshore dogfight. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It changes everything, Katalin.” Konstantin straightened out his stuffy collar and brushed his tasseled epaults into place. “Trust me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well that damnable boat hasn’t been sunk yet either!” Katalin fiercely gripped the stone railing of the balcony as she yelled. “Please, for the love of God, tell me that you aren’t as blinded by your own ego as my brother is!” A tiny crack formed in the stonework.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Konstantin could only sigh. “No, Katalin, I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>blind</span>
  </em>
  <span> to anything.” He clasped his hands together gently, drumming his fingers along the back of his pallid palms in a constant rhythm. “I’m watching the same battle as you. I just so happen to be a skilled general.” If he could be more passive aggressive, he would just be aggressive. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Katalin felt her eyebrow twitch. She minded her slightly manic voice and mind by allowing herself a tempered, deep breath. “If you’re trying to be genuine, then you’re sending mixed signals.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m aware.” Konstantin seemed to pay her no mind, or at least, he didn’t react how the snide part of Katalin wanted him to. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Katalin sighed. She forced herself to ease her tense shoulders and fix her posture. Before she spoke again, she let up on the railing and instead reached for her fan that she might “cool” herself off, despite being a cold-bodied blood-drinker. Old habits and what not. “Then could you </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span> elaborate? I’m sweating… bleeding… ohh, what’s the metaphor the common folk use nowadays?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sweating bullets?” Konstantin glanced over, intrigued by Katalin’s uncharacteristic unease. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, that.” Her fanning only sped up the more time went on. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sayings aside,” Konstantin refocused his eyes on the battles taking place off shore. “I was well aware that the enemy would likely outnumber us in time; that our central force wouldn’t hold.” Katalin almost snapped at him again, but Konstantin’s manner of speaking made it clear that he had more to say. “It was always a possibility, mind you, that we rebuffed them at the gates. That was the optimal result, not the realistic one…. But what we’re seeing now isn’t a defeat.” His hawkish eyes watched every distant body of friend and foe alike drop with the cold and calculating disconnect of a perfect sociopath; just numbers and odds, assets, instruments, and obstacles. “By my count, our contingent was outnumbered from the beginning. For them to hold this long and cause this much damage….” His casual drumming never seemed to stop or falter, even when speaking of death. “The results are actually better than I expected.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You mean… they were a distraction?” The logic flew past katalin. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not quite.” Konstantin shook his head. “They’re the meat grinder that will see our enemies too tired to finish what they started. Their morale will be low, their bodies tired, and their numbers diminished.” His gaze drifted down toward the forest edges. “And it seems that Will has made good on her efforts. A resurgence of thralls are nearly upon the academy.” There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that with the academy’s current forces, both known and unknown to Bathory, the academy would not survive a second wave. Even with Maxwell’s reinforcements, victory would be a far cry away. “So long as we tire them out with our superior skill, the remainder of our knightly regiments in the castle will be able to take flight and ride them down.” He ceased his drumming for only two moments. He cracked his left knuckles, and then the right. The drumming began again. “They’ll be dead on arrival.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Katalin let the scenario play out in her head. She was no tactician, nor was she familiar to war and its winds, but the idea seemed sound enough. “I… suppose that makes sense…. But did we really have to throw our blooded soldiers to the wolves? Could we not first employ our mortal agents? Why not use the Fates thralls as cannon fodder?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not going to entrust the most critical part of our defense to beasts.” Fel bats, beholders, winged gorgons, manticores; a true monster mash, even if many had sapient minds of their own. “Their effectiveness is practically a gamble. A gamble I’d never take over the consistency of martialed warriors.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A fair point.” Katalin wiped her brow. She wasn’t sweating, but she felt like she was; or at least, like she should be. “Now, what about the boat?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Konstantin perked up just a smidgen at the boat’s mention. He’d nearly forgotten, but not out of negligence. “When we first caught sight of it, I was certain that it was carrying troops to shore.” He pointed it out and handed off his spyglass. “But look here: It’s going around the island.” Katalin collapsed her fan with a snap and accepted the tool. She took a long look at the ship as Konstantin continued to speak. “It’s not sunk, but it’s a non issue now…. Either Chaos has veered it off course, or it’s intent was never to dock on the north side to begin with.” The ship’s course gave no clues to that matter. But then again, it was looking suspiciously unmolested by sea creatures, but it </span>
  <em>
    <span>certainly</span>
  </em>
  <span> wasn’t unharmed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It looks like Chaos let it go….” Katalin raised her spyglass back up for just a moment to try and spot anything, and indeed she did see witches flying desperately overhead. “And yet it still has a crew….” They, along with the deckside fighters, were coordinating some sort of recovery. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Konstantin took a look for himself, humming curiously. “I see….” He took careful interest in the state of the hull and the steering cabin at the back; it wasn’t looking too good. “It appears to be sinking.” He put the puzzle pieces of the circumstances together as he lowered the spyglass, chewing idly on his own cheek. “And if that’s the case, then there’s certainly no troops aboard. They would have done everything they could to beach themselves if they were meant to bring reinforcements.” At least a beached ship would offer a chance for those would-be soldiers to offer support, marooned or otherwise. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then what exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> its objective?” Katalin had gone back to fanning herself at this point.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Konstanin cracked his jaw once before he set aside his spyglass for now. “Whatever their objective is, it’s a waste of manpower on their part. If they’d diverted the escort to aid in the frontal assault, then I may have actually shared your concerns regarding our chances.” His words soothed Katalin’s tightly wound mood. “Though I wish Tje Fates would tell us when they decide to abandon an objective….” He set his arms behind his back with a slight huff. “No matter though,”  Konstantin knew nothing of the word “concern,” not in his military career “For </span>
  <em>
    <span>common</span>
  </em>
  <span> folk will always make </span>
  <em>
    <span>common</span>
  </em>
  <span> errors, and this strange naval gambit is certainly one of them.” His reviled accentuation of the word “common” made it almost wholly replaceable with the word “stupid.” A leer briefly broke through his unemotive wall before he concluded confidently: “Overall, I believe that this battle is already decided, and you’ll be glad to hear whom I believe the apparent victor to be.” If those words came from any other vampire’s mouth, within or without the Bathory clan, Katalin would have dismissed it as ego-driven delusions; pride coming before the fall. With Konstantin though, she believed it, for weal or woe. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My apologies, Konstantin.” Katalin lowered the spyglass and set it aside on the railing.  She then forced herself to blink, as if to shoo away the redness in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to doubt you so easily.” She shot him a glance, one that was “humble” and “genuinely apologetic,” at least by noble vampiric standards. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t waste your breath.” Konstantin waved it off, though he sounded neither rude nor bitter. “I took no offence.” Again, another foreign concept to him. Really, he was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>boring</span>
  </em>
  <span> individual outside of war time affairs. “Though I am curious: What has you so on edge? If it were merely the battle going poorly, I know you wouldn’t be so quick to doomsay.” Despite that, he was deceptively perceptive when it came to non-martial matters. “I assume it’s not any issue between you and Nikolai. You’ve never taken well to each other’s presence let alone blood relations….” Probably because he took Sun Tzu’s book a little too literally when it came to the whole “knowing your enemies and allies'' part. “So who in the family has you vexed so? Elizabeth herself perhaps?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Katalin let her noble veneer drop once the jig was up. “Oh, hell, Konstantin. You don’t even know the half of it.” She plodded into the war room and fetched herself a vintage of blood, dated 1912, while Konstantin grabbed a glass for each of them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Care to explain then?” Konstantin sipped from his while Katalin went about downing her own dose in about three seconds flat, all without spilling a single drop.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ahh…. Better.” Konstantin kept his gaze steady, unblinking; he awaited an answer. “Fine, but I’ll make it quick. That messenger bat should be back any minute now, and I’m so wound up I feel my heart might just start again.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t start living again on my part.” He took another sip before continuing. “You know I could care less for court politics, but if you’re to be a part of this war effort beyond this battle, I’d want to know why you’re acting strangely.” Panicking minds were unreliable minds, and reliability was all. “Assuming this is an issue that might actually affect your ability to serve the clan.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Katalin had to assess his words carefully, a little too carefully. She was too worried that he might be scheming something, only for her to remember about a minute later that it was Konstantin she was speaking to. The only schemes he partook in involved formations, battle lines, ambushes; he said it himself. He had no time for court politics. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Curse this noble life! Making me jump at shadows and making me only see enemies!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Yes; how hard it was to have servants at her every beck and call. “It may indeed, Konstantin.” But enough narrative prodding. Katalin had genuine anxieties. “I fear I may have fallen out of mother’s—” She stopped abruptly and corrected herself. “Elizabeth’s favor.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“To what end? How does that ail you, exactly?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s… by God, Konstantin, it’s infuriating!” Katalin nearly dashed her empty glass to the ground, but managed to steady her grip on the thin handle. “I was the one who contacted The Fates! I was the one who instrumented her revival! I was the one who grew our clan through alliances </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> conflict! Nikolai may have done the asses’ labor of beating sense into those that resisted, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>am the one who is most deserving of her favor….” Petulance oozed from her every pore. She spoke like a whirlwind. “And yet she has disregarded my advice time and time again ever since she awoke! She’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>allowed</span>
  </em>
  <span> me to go about my plan, busy my spies and what not, but she acts as if I don’t exist! As if none of it matters outside of this damnable ritual!” The only time Katalin could remember Elizabeth showing </span>
  <em>
    <span>genuine</span>
  </em>
  <span> pleasure in her daughter’s work was when she first rose from that husk-like state, and when Katalin presented her with the tantras. “And I don’t mean to be childish!” At least she was acknowledging it. “But you know there’s more to this than just my pride at stake here! I have eternity to get over it, assuming our conquest goes well!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Konstantin interjected sharply. “The key word there is </span>
  <em>
    <span>assuming</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I assume?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Katalin took an equally sharp breath, allowing her just a moment’s peace before she resumed speaking, albeit in a much slower, more sensible manner. “Yes…. Yes, that </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>the key word.” Katalin waltzed about the room, around the war-table. “Assuming this ritual will provide us with enough power </span>
  <em>
    <span>on its own</span>
  </em>
  <span> to enact our plans. Assuming the world will bend a knee once our plan is enacted. Assuming we won’t need to wage a </span>
  <em>
    <span>protracted</span>
  </em>
  <span> war against the modern gentry! Assuming this battle will go well at all!” She set her emptied glass down with a resounding clack and sigh. “And I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> you just said that this is looking good for us, but surely you’d agree with me when I say that </span>
  <em>
    <span>letting</span>
  </em>
  <span> these dogs make their move on us was the </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupidest</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing we could have ever done!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Konstantin nodded, “They </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> break down the dome for us, at least.” Though he didn’t verbally agree. Even he knew better than to speak so loudly and openly about any mistakes their queen might make. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And the Fate witches promised they’d have that ready in a month or two! Do we have the patience of flies!?” Katalin simply went on with her rambling vent. “It’s simply maddening, Konstantin!” She threw her hands up as she went along. “For all we knew, these interlopers could have had an ace of their sleeve or some sort of powerful spell ready to thwart us at every turn!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Konstantin finished his drink and shook his head. “Our scouts found no evidence of that.” He handed it to a manservant drolly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Our scouting parties either never came back, or were left in tatters! That alone should have been enough of a reason for us to wipe them out while they were still gathering strength!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“While I’m sure this rant of yours is certainly a way for you to release that weight off of your chest, you realize that complaining about it now will hardly change the present, yes?” Katalin gave him a deathly look, though he ignored it. He instead started toward the balcony and overlooked the battlefield, walking and talking. “I never said you were wrong, I’m merely saying that the matter is already behind us. The battle is won, even if the white flag of our foe hasn’t been raised yet. And while I do find our queen’s passivity toward the threat as it was growing to be… ill-advised, I would not have been swayed on tactics by paranoia and boogeymen.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Katalin stomped over to the balcony, rejoining Konstantin at his side. Her every footfall sounded like a thin hammer on wood; the clicking and clacking of her heels against the stonework floor. “Didn’t you ask why I was upset so you could, oh, I don’t know, </span>
  <em>
    <span>assuage</span>
  </em>
  <span> my anger and doubt!? Not agitate them!?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanted to be certain that they wouldn’t interfere in our duties.” Katalin scoffed, minutely dejected, though she realized a moment later that she really shouldn’t be surprised. “And from what you’ve told me, I’ve determined that we’ll need to have an audience with her majesty about prosecuting her war in the future….” Konstantin paused; his keen eyes spotted his messenger bat on the return flight. “But for now, let us focus on prosecuting her war in the present, yes?” Katalin groaned and rubbed her temples; she agreed if only because she had to. “Good.” Konstantin set their attention back to the battle then as the bat arrived on his shoulder. It squeaked and chirped loudly, perhaps even fearfully, while its master gently stroked its head and reached for the capsule clutched between its unnaturally long fangs. “Let’s see here….” A slight twist of his wrist saw the capsuling pop open like a fresh bottle of wine and let the slightly torn and crumpled paper fall into Konstantin’s open palm. He raised a brow at this, curious as to why the message seemed, damage, but paid little mind to it, at least, not until he unfurled the scroll and read it:</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Siege is going poorly. The heretics have gained a second wind. Losing ground. The witches have been joined by powerful warriors. Blue flames. Skeletal frames. Need reinforcements. Thralls aren’t cutting it.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Blue flames…? Skeletal… frames?” The penishmenship was sloppy, rushed to be precise. This was a missive written under duress. Konstantin peered over the balcony and snatched up his spyglass in one quick motion. He focused the lens on the academy and scowled as the newfound threat made itself clear: There were packs of black clad swordsmen and pikemen, their weapons ancient but enchanted weapons, sprinting across the rooftops, meeting small cohorts of Bathory’s knights in pitched battle. They fought like devils, unceasing, unyielding, sometimes matching the knights for speed, something only a few skilled mages could do, and only with careful training and skill. They were too far away to see the undeathly state of their bodies, but he could see some of them be stabbed and bludgeoned in ways that should have killed any man, vampire or no, and yet they kept fighting. Their blue flames too proved impossible to spot, but they wielded fire magicks alongside their weapons in ways Konstantin had only seen a rare few times prior: “Damnable Balefire….” Emotion dripped into his voice for the first time in years; disgust, contempt. He watched closer, and Katalin did too. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The hunters, those both alive, and the two living among them, were aiding the witches. What few spellcasters yet flew about the space around Luna Nova lobbed spells at any foe they engaged, and the hunters in turn shot gouts of flame at any knight or aberration that tried to tail the airborne witches. Together, there was little the thralls and knights could do to gain any sort of advantage. In the air, they were outmaneuvered and outranged. On the ground, they were outplayed by this “ambush,” and worse yet, they were starting to be outgunned. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Katalin slowly, furiously, lowered her spyglass and turned her head to face Konstantin. “What was that you were saying about </span>
  <em>
    <span>boogeymen</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” If Katalin hissed any harder, she may as well start slithering. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Konstantin shot her a genuinely angered look and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out, the horrid noise of a servile mortal, gaunt and squeaky sounding, burst through the doors. “M-M-MY LORDS! A-AND LADIES!” Katalin and Konstantin, being the only vampires in the room, turned their hateful gazes upon the servant in unison. The shock of which nearly killed him on the spot. He clutched at his heart and gasped for air until Katalin threw her spyglass past the cretin’s head as he reflexively ducked. “I-I have a message! Please! Have mercy!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kartalin stormed over to the servant, picked him up by his collar, and shook him about violently.  “SPIT IT OUT YOU WRETCH! WHAT IS IT!?” How easy it was for her to redirect all of her rage at Elizabeth toward some lowly mortal who knew nothing of what was going on. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The servant stammered and sputtered as he tried to make sense of his own words: “Q-Q-Que—! Her maj—! Majesty! She! ACH! She’s demanding your attendance! In the th-throne room! The throne room!” Katalin’s jerking and thrashing slowled steadily. Bewilderment fell over her formerly dagger-like expression. “She said to t-tell you that the ritual is, is, is—!” The wretch gulped back a bucket’s worth of fear. “It’s starting soon! She wanted every lord and lady in attendance!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Every… lord and lady? Now!?” Katalin turned her head around and saw something she never thought she would: A dumbfounded Konstantin. She brought her horror and rage stricken gaze back upon the servant as she barraged him with questions. “Elizabeth Bathory, my mother, our queen, wants EVERY lordly vampire of the clan to appear in her throne room at this very second, in the middle of this crucial battle, RIGHT when the enemy is making a push to turn the tide against us!?” Unconsciously, she began to strangle the man in her claws. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ackh! Grrrhhrugh! A-All the ones...! Ghkhhk! That aren’t busy…! Grrrkkoh! Fighting!” He was certain his windpipe was about to collapse. Luckily, or maybe unluckily for him, Katalin wouldn’t allow him to suffocate. “She said… the battle is… alread—! Already won! Kkkhahk!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ohhhh for God’s sake!” Instead, she summarily tossed him to the floor with the reckless disregard of a rabid pitbull in regard to its chew toy. He writhed in pain, hissing and whimpering all the while. “Konstantin!” Katalin, of course, ignored the servants' plight. “What the hell are we going to do now!?” The would-be general was speechless. “Don’t just stand there gawking like a buffoon! We’re losing ground and now our queen may as well be actively sabotaging us! This is no time for the ritual and we sure as hell aren’t winning anymore! We need every lord armed and ready!” Konstantin's eyes drifted to his belt, his rapier specifically. “Well!?” His eyes hardened, and his grimace deepened. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going down there.” Furious as he was, Konstantin spoke cooly, flatly. “And I’m mustering every castle guard I can. I refuse to let this unforeseen threat topple us. Ritual be damned!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Katalin wildly gestured toward the door that led out of the room. “Even the ones escorting the prisoners? What if they break free?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If our necromancers and mortal servants can’t handle a few </span>
  <em>
    <span>children</span>
  </em>
  <span> then we’ve been in need of better help for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>long</span>
  </em>
  <span> time.” Konstantin marched forth into the room hastily. The speed and heft of his footfalls frightened his messenger bat away, sending it off into the night while Konstantin donned a pair of finely crafted dueling gloves. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Katalin stepped forward urgently. “And the fools who bought her claim!?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Konstantin stopped and spoke for only a moment when he passed her. “When I said I want </span>
  <em>
    <span>every</span>
  </em>
  <span> lord armed, I meant it.” Then he was off into the hallway, stepping over the downed servant as one might a crumpled can in the road. Katalin did the same.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Argh! To think they might be drunk on a victory that hasn’t even happened yet!” After all, this castle was a maze. It took </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite a while</span>
  </em>
  <span> for word to spread via runner. In fact, that would mean that Bathory likely made this announcement not very long after the knights were first mustered. “If we fail here… if we see our banner’s fall </span>
  <em>
    <span>again</span>
  </em>
  <span>, all because those sycophants couldn’t keep their fangs dry for </span>
  <em>
    <span>ONE</span>
  </em>
  <span> minute!” She could already imagine it in all its horror: The Bathory clan laid low on account of foolish pride and drunken incompetence. It was humiliating just to ponder. “God! Damnit!” She threw her claws down by her side as her face practically regained its color from how enraged she was. “Their arrogance will be our undoing!” Her wrathful hissing echoed down the hall.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Konstantin similarly lost control of his volume. “And it will be </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> who makes sure that </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> happen while </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>buy us time!” Their pace only increased for every turn they made down the darkened halls. “I don’t care if you have to throw ice water in the face of Elizabeth herself! If that’s what it takes to salvage this war, then so be it!” Eventually, they came upon a fork in the road, a T-junction with the left path heading downward into the larger complex of the castle, and the right path leading up into the towered tiers and palace proper. The two vampires looked either way before letting their gazes fall upon each other. There was the strangling notion that one of them should say something, that something should happen before they split off, but no, nothing ever came. Awkward moments slipped away from the two of them before Katalin decided to huff out a sigh and turn tail for the rightmost path while Konstantin made a mad dash down the leftmost path. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It felt like their castle and kingdom was falling down around them all over again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In truth, Elizabeth’s reign of blood was only just beginning. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The throne room was abuzz with activity as servants, handmaidens, and knights, and lords all worked to set up the various trappings required for the ritual. Haemonculi wretches yanked on heavy chains, pulled hard on thick levers, and shoved against the grinding wheels of machinery just beyond the throne room's walls. Their efforts were necessary to operate the mechanisms, but they were cordoned off out of sight in a maintenance hallway formed between the thick walls of the throne room. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>From within the room itself, there was much work to be done as well, with Necromancers and mortal acolytes of the clan united in a singular purpose: Constructing the intricate ritual signs, runes, and symbols. They formed arrays of circles containing lines drawn from non-central points in the shapes, connecting unevenly with one another across a square frame. In the center of the throne room, one great circle was made surrounded by four smaller circles inhabiting each corner, forming an unfinished hourglass-like shape with the lines drawn between and across the greater circle. Within those broken triangular shapes of the hourglass, formed by the overlay of erratic lines, were intricate, yet equally rough and jaggedly patternered runes in a text that could be considered Lunar, but clearly originated from a </span>
  <em>
    <span>different</span>
  </em>
  <span> moon. It was exactly as the Tantra described, and the slaves to Bathory had even managed to use the exact same ingredients as well: Cinnabar, ground down to a fine dusty paste, was used to paint to floor with the aforementioned pattern. The text made it clear that such specific reagents were very likely to be superfluous, but Bathory herself disregarded such things: This would be perfect, this would be divine, this would be her will made manifest. Thus. her lessers were left with no choice but to follow her instructions to the letter. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The mineral itself was hard enough to get in a raw state, but fortunately, the Bathory clan’s coffers ran </span>
  <em>
    <span>deep</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and the nobles themselves often sported cinnabar jewels as a sign of status. For whatever reason, vampires seemed drawn to that mineral, and now, for that same yet unknown reason, it was required for them to sacrifice much of those prized gemstones for the sake of the ritual. It made the room smell of dust, but for mercy, the burning of red wax candles helped to drown out much of the musty stench. They were placed by the dozens in small clumps in open areas of the ritual square-circle, and with four piles in particular being placed around the central most position; the spot where Elizabeth would stand. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All the while, the many nobles were attended to by their own favored servants. They were putting on their best airs, their finest cloth, their fanciest baubles; anything to appear as gods among men at the day and time of their ascension. So vain were they that they nearly turned the air toxic from how many scents they were applying to themselves and each other, as if their noses weren’t deadened by centuries of vampirism. None were more vain than Bathory herself of course, and while the nobles still readied themselves in many ways, relying only on their servants when absolutely necessary, Elizabeth didn’t raise a single finger. She barely even flexed a muscle or blinked while being attended to; her handmaidens eliminated every single issue that could have made her expend even an inkling of effort. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Elizabeth wasn’t in the throne room proper just yet. She was in the room beyond it, past the smaller iron gate stationed behind the throne which led into a parlor of sorts, which in turn was connected to the winding staircase up to her nightmarish quarters. In the parlor she was sat, almost fully nude, with her limbs stretched out lazily on a chair built specifically for her. One might mistake this for some gothic sort of spa treatment, and in truth, it wasn’t much different. The only thing that seperated this absurdly beatific procedure from any other she underwent prior to appearing before her court was the timing, the context, the anticipation. There would be blood, and then there would be blood, giving way to more blood. Streams, rivers, oceans! The end of history was upon them, and the age of blood would follow suit. Bathory dreamed of it in every facet and aspect, combing over every detail of her delusion with fine detail. It would be as perfect as herself, and then there would be no need for anything to come after. These were the maddening things that occupied her mind as the maligned claws of her handmaidens pampered her to the expected level of perfection. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She only deigned to “awake” from said delusions when one of the maidens bowed her head and presented a simple robe, one colored scarlet and made of satin. “You are finished?” The maiden nodded in agreement. “The machine is ready?” Again, the maiden nodded slowly, purposefully. “And the bands are ready to play?” A final nod signalled the ritual's readiness. “Excellent….” Elizabeth’s words were… strange. She was… tranquil? Calm? No, no, not that. Her tone was deceptive. She seemed at ease, but it was the kind of ease a wolf had with dead prey in its jaws. The kind of calm a boa had with its body wrapped around a fawn’s neck. Hunger. Always with the hunger. The time for feasting was nearly upon them. Bathroy could wait no more. “With me then.” She rose from the chair, allowing her draping clothes to fall away to reveal her disturbingly manicured form in full. She held her arms out wide and angled her head up, eyes to the ceiling, where a painted mural of the night sky and the moon greeted her as her maidens went about dressing her. The painting was mundane looking, albeit expertly crafted, though the light of candles held up by chandeliers gave the painted moon a queer reddness that, again, called to the clan vampires who gazed upon it, but for reasons they did not know. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Well, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> of them were ignorant. Not anymore at least. “Soon….” The words dripped from Elizabeth’s lips like gently poured oils. “Soon even you will be outshone by my brilliance.” An ill wind crept along the floor of the parlour. The candles flickered, the robes of the maidens and Bathory herself swished. The Sanguine Moon sensed her challenge, just as it sensed all of vampire kind as their everwatching and ever thirsting progenitor. “Think me a liar? I will prove it.” Her whispers slipped through space and time, across aeons of void and starlight; The Moon heard every word, and it brooked to no insult. The candles began to smolder. Fruits in a nearby bowl began to rot. Bathory chuckled. “Hmhmhmhmmm…. Haunt me all you will. It will not delay our fated meeting out there among the heavens.” Her plan was clear, and her mind more so. All she saw was red, and all that there would be left to see was red. She was clothed in that self same crimson, and her handmaidens had finally backed away. “But enough talk.” Elizabeth spun about slowly, examining herself in a mirror once, then twice. “I’ve a coronation to attend.” Once queen of Čachtice, now queen of clan Bathory, and soon? Soon to be queen of all blooded things. She stepped to the ornate iron doors, her feet bare and her expression a grin, and swung the gate wide with a singular shove. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All noise ceased within the throne room. Every action halted. Not a breath was had, not even by the living. “Ladies and lords, lowlifes and leeches...” Every eye was upon her as she rounded the throne, followed by a choir of thirteen handmaidens. “Words alone cannot express how… proud I am of all of you.” The crowds of servants parted for her and knelt out of reverence and fear. The lords and ladies did so out of loyalty and thanks. They thought they would </span>
  <em>
    <span>share</span>
  </em>
  <span> in her power, that they, like her, would grow more powerful than any of them could ever imagine. “For without your efforts, yes, even you wretches of my court...” Elizabeth made it to the center and stopped while her maidens continued on, winding past her into two divergent lines. One streamed off to her left, and one to her right. “I would never have had the opportunity to reign in blood once more.” She gestured widely to the room. “Nor would any of you have this grand opportunity to join with me in heaven, this divine chance to rise above your flawed immortality toward something greater….” Her gesturing hands pointed toward the drapings about the hall; a signal and order. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The maidens obeyed, and so they continued their divergent waltz off and away from the center of the room. Once they reached the walls, they fanned out silently and pulled away at the draping curtains to reveal gaps in the stonework. Within those gaps were gears, cogs, nodules and nodes; electric machinery and arcane alterations of mundane mechanics that would make even the most giddy of technophile feel… wrong. It was sickening to look at. The way the skin was laid over the ironworks. How those same grafts of skin were further marred by runecraft that should have long been forgotten, consigned to the dark pits where they were first written. The fact that some of the tubes were hollow bones, and how some of the pistons undulated as if made to move by way of muscle rather than mechanics. Make no mistake though, these were not the remains of any prisoner; the witches who had been rounded up so far were alive and well… for now. No, this machine was made in part by the most devoted to the soon to be blood queen. They practically threw themselves upon the altar of flesh shaping sacrifice in a bid to serve their lady in death, and of course, the twisted necromancers who would orchestrate such manufacturing were all too happy to flex their magical muscles. The result was almost as abhorrent as The Hell Machine which still slept in the hangar bay of the deepest castle depths, but this machine's purpose was </span>
  <em>
    <span>far</span>
  </em>
  <span> more sinister than that of any rail gun, eld or no.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s very activation caused the room to elongate and tremble as the floor was opened, allowing for pulleys and pistons to shunt new sections of stonework upward, complete with their own pieces of the blood distribution system. Vials, spouts, hoses, fountains! They came from the floor, from the walls, from the ceiling! Two great mechanical clamps, partially ossified, and twitching with unlife, extended down from the ceiling. Aloft they held clear glass tubs below great spigots manned by skeletal thralls, and a third waited in the wings from another lowered platform, hand on button, ready to dump the load as it was filled. The Bathory’s would not just consume the blood, no, they would </span>
  <em>
    <span>bathe</span>
  </em>
  <span> in it! </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The sight was almost too much to behold, even for the other vampires. Once the shuttering of the castle ceased, many made signs of the cross, while others wept out of beauty. This was their promised end to life, and their given beginning to eternity. If only they knew how literal Bathory would take that metaphor. “I hope that you have prepared yourselves….” The queen of night herself looked upon every soul above and below. She paid special attention to the maidens and mortals who had been entrusted with handling the personally crafted instruments up in the balconies that rounded the whole of the throne room. Even though they were hardly wieldable by humans, the craftsmen of the clan set about making them work one way or another; the rituals complex and wholly alien incants demanded it. “For once we begin to cross the threshold into godhood….” Satisfied that they were ready, and that she in turn was prepared, Elizabeth raised her right hand up and put her middle finger and thumb together. “There will be no turning back.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Snap!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>KA-KRACKTHOOM!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lightning and thunder from the false storm sounded in unison with her signal. The band put their mouths to the lips and lids of the instruments. The vampires scurried and jockeyed for positions in the square-circle; the closer to the center the better. The slaves and servants ducked out of their way and made for the door. They thought it wise to leave their lords in peace as they transcended their stations, but they were met by more silent maidens who simply raised their fingers in denial. They would go no further. The great and towering doors to the room closed shut. The maidens locked it tight. They formed a perfect wall, their backs to the doors, and took up a deathly vigil to the tune of alien instruments and sputtering machinery. The ritual was coming to life, as was the machine. Keen listeners would realize something though. That opening tune, those gentle piano presses, the sharp violin strings in G minor, dainty, almost whimsical flutes…. The song was distorted, foriegn, otherworldly, but it was disturbingly familiar…. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Was that The Danse Macabre?</span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Some time prior….</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Clashing steel! Cracking wood! The smell of cinders on the air! Amanda and Constanze were on a warpath in the third level halls. Pieces of ash covered armor and the bodies of fallen vampires marked a small trail behind them; the fruits of a well executed ambush. Well, Amanda called it an ambush. Constanze called it a happy accident:</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They’d just rushed their way up the stairwell by the library when they heard the telltale clanking and rustling of heavy armor not far from them. Immediately, they retreated back down the stairs by just a few steps. They got low, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>low, and tightened the grips on their weapons. Their patience was rewarded with a patrol of four vampiric out on the hunt. Their armor was clean, their weapons cleaner. They’d just landed in the academy by Constanze’s estimations, and they were no doubt on the hunt for victims to kidnap or slay. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Let’s give ‘em a warm welcome.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Those were the words Amanda mouthed when the group of vampires came to a halt at one of the doors that led to a lecture hall. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Come on. It’ll be easy.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Easy or not, Constanze trusted her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Open it!” One knight barked. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The wood shuttered, the knob came clean off. “Bah! Locked!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then break it down you fool!” The first slapped the knob out of the second’s hand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The third knight interjected: “And make it quick! I’m eager to find what these heretics stored in their vault!” Rumors must have spread around Castle Bathory; tales of treasure stolen by the heretics. Some nonsense like that. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you only think about treasure, Azamov?” Coyly remarked the fourth, as if this were a fox hunt rather than a raid and battle. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As the first knight got to work hacking the door open with his greataxe, the third and fourth continued their vulgar banter. “No, I think quite a bit about Anya too.” His tone alone conveyed the wideness of the grin that lay hidden beneath his helmet. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The fourth knight was furious, probably because Anya was his wife in vampirism. “Why you son of a—!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>BANG!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“IGNEOSERA!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Now she was a widow. The fourth knight’s head had been obliterated through a combination of a high powered arcane slug and a bolt of burning. The stump that remained bled. The body stumbled. Then it clattered down in a heap. In the time between the body falling and hitting the ground, the vampires turned their heads and brought their weapons to bear. Their eyes fell upon Amanda and Constanze hatefully, ruefully. Another moment passed, and when the sound of the body touching down rang in their ears, the vampires let out a collective roar as they charged forward. They moved in a blur, but Amanda and Constanze wouldn’t let themselves be caught flat-footed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze already had her golden gauntlet aimed just above and beyond where the vampires stood when they began to charge. She fired off the daggered chain as soon as she could, and willed the mechanism to work the second the shot blade embedded itself in the wall. She ran at first, just a few steps, then she leapt up and  shot the ground, giving her the momentum to carry her just above and beyond the knight who had her number. His thrusting spear jabbed at the air just below her back as she angled herself mid flight, and as she flew past him, her feet kept straight and steady to catch on the wall, she raised her other arm up to align her blaster’s sights with the knight’s back. He turned his head around just in time to see the flash of blue light that blew a hole in his back. “GAAAAHAAH!” He was gored, but not gone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze cursed her rushed aim and tried to line up another shot, but the vampire was too quick. She was forced to disengage her knife from the wall and let her body drop as the pike sailed through the air. It was stuck </span>
  <em>
    <span>deep</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the wall where Constanze was just hanging. She’d have been skewered if not for her quick thinking. Now she was on the ground though, and the pikeless vampire was enraged. He was sprinting at her with that same preternatural speed that he charged with, and Constanze had little room to dodge his spiteful boot from the floor. So she didn’t. He was quick, but her hands were just a tad quicker. She pulled a vial of compacted spark-ash from her coat and threw it at the knight as he approached. He hardly even noticed, and even if he did, he was going to fast to stop or look away as the vial exploded on his chest. Perhaps contrary to its name though, it did not explode into fire. Instead, it exploded into light!</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“HREEEE!” The knight hissed! His eyes shut tight! He felt as though he were looking into the sun, but his body just couldn’t stop! He collided with the wall and with Constanze’s body, tripping over the latter and into the former. Constanze gasped and grunted in pain. His boot still sailed home into her chest, but by the grace of the Nine, it wasn’t a fully forced strike, and so her ribs were left mercifully intact. The wind was long gone from her lungs though, and so she briefly writhed in agony, as did the vampire. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At the same time, Amanda met the other two knights in melee. She dodged the cleaving axe swing of the first with a nimble flip to the side, aided by a phos spell, and turned that same dodge into a roll that allowed her to go under the swiping strike of the second’s broadsword. Two tumbles and she was back on her feet, twisting round on her heels and stabbing with Dyrynwyn toward the second knight’s back leg. A warding flash of steel from the first upheaved her sword, sending her back in a stumble. It gave the second a perfect opportunity to spin about and slash diagonal across Amanda’s chest. Quick reflexes saved her life as she caught the sword between Dyrnwyn and Carnwennan, held in an X-shape. A half second’s struggle was all Amanda allowed, knowing the first vampire would crack open her skull with his axe if she wasted even a single breath in the bind she and the second vampire were caught in. While weaker than the vampire, she had magic to sure up her force, and so she used a phos spell directed from Carnwennan’s tip to help push the broadsword back and away. She saw the axe rising and falling then, so she tossed her shadowed dirk forward and blinked away in a puff of smoke. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The great axe blade found itself embedded in the ground, stuck in the woodwork; the strength of the vampire ended up being his companions undoing, for when he looked over his shoulder to see where his prey had gone, he saw that Amanda had reappeared in the broadsword bearing vampire’s face, her sword thrust forward through his heart. “AAAAAGHRRAAAA!” His dying scream as he turned to flame and ash filled the hall, but his comrade would not be faltered for even a moment by such a sight. He heaved up hard on his axe and wound up a terrible swing while Amanda struggled to dislodge her sword from the ashen vampire’s armor. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Come on! Come</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>No time. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>KKKRANG!</span>
  </em>
  <span>S</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda sloppily swung the sword still embedded chestpiece around in a desperate tizzy. The greataxe stuck it instead of her body, but it sent Dyrnwyn clattering to the floor, her arm having not been properly braced to stand against such reckless strength. Now partly disarmed, she was forced to bob and weave backward as the knight deftly repeated the strike by spinning around, bringing his blade just centimeters from her gut on the second time around. Slash after slash, Amanda dipped and ducked each, desperate for an opening that never came. So she got crafty and dropped Carnwennan to the floor amidst one of her dodges. The vampire hardly noticed. If anything, he was glad to now have complete control of the fight; or so he thought. “YOU’RE MINE!” His words rang out just as Amanda’s back hit the wall. His axe flashed with the sound of thunder, and her brought it down hard against Amanda’s—</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>THUNK!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Against the wall, that is. “Wha—!?” Again, his strength proved a bit too much, having always been so arrogant, like many of his comrades, to never learn how to properly control it. “Blasted!” He waved away the black smoke that billowed up around him, befuddled and enraged. His anger only got worse when he saw Amanda casually standing just a few meters away:</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She was back where she dropped Carnwennan, having collected its twin and spotted herself in the reflection of a window. What she saw shocked her. “Oi! Oi! Watch where you’re swinging that!” A small hole had been cut in the top of her cowboy hat. “Do y’know how hard it is to replace a bad boy like this out here?!” She threw her arms up lazily, as if she were yelling at a passing driver after they splashed her with a puddle. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The axe wielding knight felt one of his fangs chip from how fiercely he bit down on it. “HRRRRRAAAGH!” He bellowed and roared! Woodchips flew all about as he wrenched his axe from the wall and turned her recovery into a destructive charge. Again, Amanda met his storm of steel with a storm of her own, all fire and smoke and steel! </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>By then, Constanze and the blinded knight had started to recover. The latter fumbled his right hand upward, slipping and slapping at the haft of his spear that still lay embedded in the wall. He could see fuzzy things, but hardly anything more. Constanze tried to crawl away from him as her lungs remembered what it meant to have air in them, but just as she made it about halfway to her blaster, a gruffly gauntleted hand grabbed her collar and started dragging her back. “Hrrrggh!” Constanze clawed at the wood floor desperately, but her fingers found no purchase. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“No, no, no!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>When she was brought back to square one, the knight had reclaimed his spear.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was sitting up awkwardly, pinning Constanze to the ground with one hand and hazily wielding his pike in the other; a position of clear advantage. “HOLD STILL YOU—” But that didn’t mean Constanze was unarmed. With quick thinking, a bit of trust in her instincts, she took her hammer and whipped it up at the vampire’s head, striking a crushing blow from below, right on the nose of his chin! “Khk!” He fell back in a clatter of metal and a mess of limbs and spear, granting Constanze the only opening she needed. She was on top of him now, having not even chanced a go at the gun knowing the vampire’s quickness. One! Two! Five! She lost count of her hammer blows after that! She may as well have started rattling off the names of those inscribed on the bloody thing for how many times she smashed the knight’s helmed face in. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>First he was jolting and groaning from the blows. Then he was silent, and the faceplate of his helmet caved in. Then it started sounding squishy, and all movement has ceased. Constanze gave it at least three more whacks before she realized the knight was well and truly dead, and it took another moment or two careful breathing to realize what she was doing. Her hammer stopped in mid air. Time seemed to freeze. Her eyes were wide and her face was wrought with anger. Her hate was running high. Her mind was awash in that nightmarish crimson haze. It had her swept up in the same bloodthirst that saw Ludinghal burned to ash. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Two three one two three three one two three two three…. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“One two three two three one two three three….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Constanze counted in time with the rhythm. He blood cooled, her heart slowed.She didn’t dare imagine what she’d have done if not for the tune. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The sounds of clashing metal. Grunts of effort. Bellowing roars. Constanze snapped awake. Only a few moments had passed, but it was enough for the axe wielding vampire to gain a terrible advantage over Amanda. She was quicker on her feet. She was nimbler with her swords. She was whittier too. It meant nothing though in the face of such titanic strikes. “RRRRAAAAGH!” There were openings between each berserking bash, but to take on any of them would spell certain doom if her aim or timing was off by even a hair.Over and over again the axe crashed against her blocking swords or came down with enough speed and force to make her feel a gust of air; the knight was going all out for this. Amanda was being forced to play the defensive game, and no matter how much she was wanting to break away, no matter how much Maxwell’s voice screamed at her to always control the flow of battle, to never go on defensive, she just couldn’t. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze needed to intervene before either the pain in Amanda’s arms became too great, or before she ran out of the hallway to keep backpedaling down. Constanze stumbled her way off of the dead knight, crawling as fast as she could on all fours at first, then fumbling up into a hunched run as she reached her blaster. She spun about and took aim, but doubt crept in. The two of them were dancing around too much for Constanze to get an easy bead on the knight, and the sightline put her at risk of shooting Amanda if she missed. “Mmmm!” Her knuckles tightened; she grit her teeth. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Think! Think!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her trigger finger twitched. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The knight’s axe cut through airf and sent sparks off of Amanda’s blades. At one point, Dyrnwyn practically caught fire from how many little lights bounced off of the clashing edges. Amanda wished that setting the sword alight so easy, at least, she would, if she could afford to allow even a fraction of her brain power to think on anything besides dodging and blocking. Overhead, to the right, left, left again, now from below, back up, up high again; the vampires’ muscles would break before his assault did, for even an undead body had its limits on strength and speed. Amanda even tried her “dropped knife” trick with Carnwennan again, but being fooled once was plenty for the knight. When Amanda reappeared behind him, she had just enough time to raise Dyrnwyn and her other hand to block the roundhouse slash that came her way. The sheer force of the blow was enough to send her skidding and stumbling back on the wood floor. She bit down on her cheek as a wave of pain reverbated in from her fingers, down her wrists, and up her arms; a tremor through her entire body. Gods how she wished she was fighting another sword user; the size and heft of his axe was just too damn much for a bastard sword and dirk combo to take head on. Worse yet, he was coming again, and he just wouldn’t stop!</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda, with her back now unwittingly to Constanze as the With-Smith tried to get a clear shot on the knight, braced herself. She exhaled embers and flames as she brought her blades to bear once more. One block, then another, and on the third, the weight of the blow was just too much: Dyrnwyn was tossed aside by an underhanded swing, and she lost grip of Carnwennan in the process, allowing it to drop uselessly to the floor. The axe was held high, moving with the flow of the knight’s initial strike, now put in reverse. “PERISH!” Amanda raised her palms up. Fire began to build at her fingertips. A spell formed on her lips. She’d be too slow though. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Far</span>
  </em>
  <span> too slow. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“ELECTRA MAGNARIA!” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But Constanze wasn’t. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The axe stopped. No, it vibrated. The knight, tireless and strong as he was, found his great weapon quite </span>
  <em>
    <span>unwilling</span>
  </em>
  <span> to cooperate. In fact, it was winding backward now, but not for another swing, no: It wanted his head. “Hrrrgh! B-B-Blasted…!” Constanze had her hands held out, the left held the wand so that it faced right, and the other was emptied, its palm kept facing left as silvery lights glowed on her fingertips; she was trying to push them together. “W-What is—!?” The knight’s helmet began to vibrate in turn. His fate became clear. “NO, NO, N—!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Flare!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A simple gout of fire was all Amanda needed to seal the vampires doom. The arcane flames stuck to his silver armor like napalm, and he screamed in horrible pain for a quick three seconds before his own axe blade slammed down into his dome, silencing him forever. Blood dripped down his front side, down his shoulders, a meek fountain of crimson; all stolen blood. Amanda stepped back, collected her blades with a quick bit of telekinetic magicks, and watched with her sister as the body fell back like a falling statue. The hall was quiet again, relatively speaking, and the way forward was open. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh…. Phew….” Amanda wiped her arm across her brow. “See? Easy.” She earned an elbow to the gut for that. “Hgh!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Would be easier if you didn’t waste time making jokes.” Constanze didn’t miss that whole “watch the hair” bit, occupied as she was. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda straightened her back and rolled her shoulders. “Ahh come on! I’m just following Maxy’s advice!” That was when they started running, leaving the armor and bodies behind them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmmmm! Mm!” Constanze grumbled as they rounded a corner and made their way up the stairs toward the eastern Dormitories. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“All that did was make him mad!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Was what she meant. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah! That was the point!” One zig zagging flight upwards and they arrived at the doors.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“... To get overwhelmed…?” Constanze took the left wall by the door. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“N-No! I mean…. Ok, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’d probably go ape-shit but that worked out great for me with that posh prick down in the library!” Amanda took up the right wall in turn. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze sighed. “Just… think before you taunt. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” And that was about as much as Constanze wanted to talk about it for now. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda rolled her eyes in response and gave a nodding gesture toward the door. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“On three?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Constanze returned the nod and raised a clenched fist. The seconds passed slowly, tensely. Three raised fingers later and both sisters turned on their heels and booted in the door. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>CRASH! </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Moments prior, just beyond the door….</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Captain!” The “youngest” of the knights ransacking the dorms called out. “Our end is clear!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No signs of vermin on our end either!” Another shouted from the other end. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve checked the closets?” The captain, who stood in the center of the hallway spoke gruffly, like a barking dog. “And under the beds?” Three other knights lurked in the rooms close to him as they casually pillaged what meager valuables were lying about. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes s—!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“AHA! SNEAKY DEVIL!” A young woman’s scream followed. Heads turned. Swords were raised. A burly knight, not the eldest, but older, emerged from one of the dorms while dragging a second year witch by her hair. “Caught one!” She thrashed and tried to cast, but it was all for naught. A swift strike of the pommel to her head knocked her fully unconscious, and opened a nasty wound on her scalp. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Damnable—! Ivan! You’ve the grace of a three legged bull! Don’t murder the prisoners!” The Captain was none too pleased, acquisition or not. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Bah!” Ivan, waved it off lazily. “If she’s so weak to die to a soft smack, then she is unfit to feed our glorious—”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>CRASH!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>BANG! BANG!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>SCHLLK! </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The doors on the western end were kicked in. Two arcane slugs drove their way home through the runt of the group’s head, and a thrown Carnwennan saw Amanda beheading another vampire as he exited one of the rooms. Curiously, he was holding a music player, likely planning to steal away with it as a “treasure.” It fell to the ground haplessly; the play button was jammed in on hitting the floor. It started to play a song that had already begun; a funny coincidence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Kerosene! Keeps me waaarrrrm!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m alone! To watch it buuuuuurrrrn!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The funnier coincidence was that Amanda </span>
  <em>
    <span>really liked</span>
  </em>
  <span> this song. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Keroseeeeeene!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda got low, her swords crossed, and her grin wide. “Alright! Now do you guys wanna be shown the door, or my boot?! Because one of ‘ems hittin’ your ass on the way out!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze cocked her blaster and groaned deeply. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Gott verdammt.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hrrraagh!” Not that the Bathory knights cared for it. “SLAY THEM!” The captain drew his claymore and charged forth, joined in concert by his five comrades in a disjointed sort of charge.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Boot it is then!” Amanda dashed to meet them, her head kept low, Dyrnwyn held up and horizontally, and Carnwennan kept back. Bolts of arcane might flew by overhead, boring into the skull of the knight just behind the captain; two shots, one kill. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Expoosuuuuuuure,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda met the captain head on. His claymore clashed with Dyrnwyn twice, then Carnwennan got involved. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Is a pitiful and pointless way of dying!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A slicing uppercut made a gash in his armor and chest about five inches tall.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hrrk!” The shadow blades' uncanny sharpness made a mockery of the captain's armor. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Before it gets meeeeee,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Carnwennan kept going; Amanda let it go after making the cut. The dirk flew into the air just as one of the knights closer to the captain came to aid him with a flanking stab. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll build a fuuuuneral pyyyyreee!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>All he hit was a cloud of black smoke. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wha—!?” The flanking knight didn’t even have time to register what had happened before Amanda fell on him from above. “Gghgh!” His back had been pierced by Dyrnwyn from nape to tailbone, all the way along his spine. He collapsed to his knees, dead on impact. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Kerosene! Keeps me warm!” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“HSSSAAAH!” The Captain leapt up, his sword primed to cleave down through his own dead comrade just to get a stab at Amanda. Too bad jumping just made him an easier target.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>BANG! CHK-CHK! BANG! CHK-CHK! </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m alone to watch it buuurn!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The sheer force of the slugs impacting on his already wounded, albeit regenerating gut, sent him backward and to the floor, just in time to crash into one of his approaching comrades. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Keroseeeeeene!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>In their momentary daze, they caught glimpses of their fate through the still fading smoke from Carnwennan. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m a man, and my dignity won’t wave!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda and Constanze stood side by side, one aiming their dirk, the other their blaster. The catch was the hand Constanze had on the nozzle. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hrr! Get off of—!” Their attempts to untangle themselves from their haphazard bind were for naught.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Toniiiight! Buildings! Raaaaaay-heey-aaaaaage!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>FWWWSSSH!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Typherious phos!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“GAAAAAAH!” A little flamethrower action, aided by a phos spell, saw the two downed knights charred black from without, then from within. The knights writhed and thrashed, and not in the good way, until death finally claimed them in the throes of their struggles. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That left only one knight to confront. The big bastard from down at the end of the hall, taller and wider than any of the vampires they’d felled from this group He bulldozed through the lapping flames that caught on the walls and floor, through the scorched bodies of his comrades, bowling them aside, and right into the fray with Constanze and Amanda; Halberd at the ready, and crashing down. Just in time for the solo! </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze dodged left! Amanda went right! Splinters flew all about as the halberd crashed down into the floor. Amanda tried to bounce off the wall with a swift kick and phos spell to end this quickly, but she met the knight’s backhand instead. She saw blackness and stars, her head rang like hell, and she was almost certain her nose was broken, but it was hard to tell from the floor. The knight half considered stomping her face in just to be rid of that grin from earlier, but Constanze had his full attention now. She shot once, and the slug went wide as the knight dashed off in a blur. He whipped around and tried to swipe wide with his halberd, but Constanze ducked. For once, her small stature saved her head, for just inches above her hairline, a horrible gash had been rent in the wall from the halberd’s blade. She had to move quick again though, for the knight seamlessly followed up with a shoulder tackle. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Kerosene! Keeps me warm!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Quick thinking got her out with a grapple shot to the ceiling, allowing her to swing away down the hall. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m alone to watch it buuurn!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The knight followed suit, charging like a bill gone mad; too fast to stop in full, too angry to die with ease. Constanze knew just how to freeze him in his tracks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Keroseeene!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Without any time to dislodge her wand, Constanze brought all her magicks to bear from her palms alone: </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hoarfrosaria!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A winter gale to rival the arctic wind shot forth, engulfing the hall in a blur of snowy whites and icy blues. Constanze couldn’t see a damn thing until she dropped her arms and blaster to her waist as magical exhaustion took hold. She breathed heavy, wearily, and looked on at her handiwork. The hall had gone deathly quiet, with even the music player having been ruined. It, like the walls, floor, ceiling, and damn near everything else, was covered in nipping frost and snowy particles. Just a few feet from Constanze, the lumbering, bullheaded knight stood motionless, frozen solid in ice, like a gothic art piece. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Chk-chk!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Too bad Constanze never cared much for the “fine arts.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>BANG!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The statuesque knight blew apart into frozen shards from the chest up; another vampire laid low by the Balefire’s flame. Or, frost, in this case. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“O-O-Oi!” Amanda struggled to get on her knees. “What’re ya tryna do!? Freeze m-me to death!?” She hissed and twitched all nippy like, as if she’d just come in from a blizzard while wearing a swimsuit. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmmhmmmmm….” Constanze held her head and stumbled forward. She slapped herself back awake just enough to find the arcane crystals she brought along. She crushed two of them in her right hand and took a deep breath, allowing the powers of magic to return to her blood like oxygen to her lungs. “Did what I had to!” She yelled back a little wearily. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda tried to clap back with a snappy response, but she was just too damn cold. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“F-F-FLARE!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A quick but powerful vent of flame and heat helped to fix that up quick. It melted the bits of frost on and around where Amanda sat, and chased away any numbness in her limbs. She clambered up onto her feet and shook her hands free of any tingling sensations. “Well, did you really have to freeze me too!?” Before Constanze could even bother to consider a response, Amanda found herself wrought with sharp pain on her face. “Fffffff!” Yep, her nose got broken alright. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze groaned again; deeper this time. “Uuugghhh….” Apparently she </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>have to freeze Amanda, because that was the only damn thing keeping her newfound pain away! “Mm!” Constanze marched her way over to her sister, minding the bodies on the way, and grabbed Amanda’s chin abruptly as she was stomping about in agony. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ow! Ow! WAIT!” Constanze put her fingertips around Amanda’s bloodied and slightly discolored nose. “Tchtchtch!” Much to her American sister’s displeasure. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Not that Constanze cared at that moment. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mm!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A cool shock shot out of her fingers and set in around Amanda’s nose; it seemed Constanze’s grunts were even good enough for spellcasting in some cases. The numbness returned, blissfully, instantly. Amanda immediately found her breath and heart slowing in turn. Constanze retracted her hand, carefully then and adjusted the strap on her blaster. “There. Better?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah….” Amanda gave a weary thumbs up as she wiped blood onto the sleeve of her coat. “Just peachy….” She looked up and around then, taking in the aftermath of the skirmish with a whistle. “Damn. We fucked this place up good.” A few icicles fell just as she said that, and what little embers remained amidst the frosted wood highlighted the burnt sections. “It almost looks as bad as the time we tried making homemade fireworks!” Minus the corpses of course. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze gave the hall a good long look for herself, finding it hard not to chuckle. “You think that was worse?” She turned herself around toward the unfrozen end of the hall and started walking. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“For sure! That place smelled like gunpowder for a we—!” Amanda was happy to take the slow way up to the rooftop as well, catching her breath and all, but the sight of the unconscious witch at the other end set her into a sprint. “Hey! HEY!” Constanze took a moment more to realize it before she caught up with Amanda as quick as she could. They knelt down over the fallen witch, examining her quickly, critically. She was relatively unharmed, and a quick ear to the chest confirmed that she was still breathing, but like Amanda, she’d taken a nasty blow to the face. “Ok, ok…” Amanda eased up on herself, relieved to know they weren’t dealing with the dead or dying. “She’s alright, but we gotta get her down to the sanctum to make sure she’s safe.” Though they were dealing with the </span>
  <em>
    <span>undead</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The distant clatter of metal boots sounded from the end of the hall they entered from. Constanze heard it first and unslung her blaster. Amanda stood up right after, swords drawn, and fists clenched tight. They expected more of Bathory’s ilk, but were more than happy to see that it was the </span>
  <em>
    <span>other</span>
  </em>
  <span> undead warriors who had stumbled upon them. Five skeletal hunters rounded the corner and passed the threshold into the hall. Their weapons and armor were lightly bloodied, and one of them had lost their right arm, not that it meant much to a skeleton. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Hmmmrrrrrgh!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The lead hunter of the group, a “one eyed” warrior clad in dark grey and black, with a particularly pointy, diamond shaped hat, raised a bony finger toward Constanze and Amanda. In turn, their fellow hunts lowered their swords and stood up taller, prouder. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The sisters sighed in unison. “Mm! Get down here!” Constanze called them over with a wave, and so they listened. The quintet bounded forth as one, coming to a slow stop upon reaching Constanze’s position. Wordlessly, as if they already knew what she would ask, one stepped forth and knelt down to hold their hand over the unconscious witch’s face. “She’s alive. Minor injuries.” Stated Constanze. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Mmmrghm.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The hunter nodded, sheathed his blade, and picked the witch up gingerly. He may have been a returned wraith of wrath to be unleashed on the Bathory clan, but even in this state, he was more human than any of the Bathory’s vampires could ever be. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Mmgh.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He gave a sidelong nod to one of his skeletal comrades, a hunter who was missing her lower jaw, and made his way out of the hall with said hunter in tow as an escort. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze turned to Amanda then. “The roof,” She pointed toward the ceiling just above them where a metal loop and square shaped crease marked the hatch access. “Check it.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda shot up and Dyrnwyn at her side. “On it!” She raised Carnwennan to channel simple magicks up toward the panel, creating a rune in the wooden square that would unlock the hatch. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>While Amanda handled that, Constance turned back to the hunters. “Report: How bad is it?” She asked as if she could understand their gasps and grunts. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Haaaaahhhh….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Luckily, their gestures and body language communicated enough for the selectively mute witch to make sense of things: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“We crushed them,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Denoted by a fist-over-palm motion, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Because they did not expect us.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>And a shake of the head with a slow, waving gesture to denote the group. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“They did not expect you either.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Two bony fingers prodded at the sisters as Amanda unlatched the seal, allowing the panel to swing open, and the ladder within to unfold itself as if it were possessed. It kicked up quite a bit of dust in the process, but Amanda cleared it up with a quick bit of wind magicks. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze continued after coughing. “Mmm. Good. We were banking on that.” Were they? Not really; not at first at least. They were banking on a hope and prayer, but a seemingly unexplainable delivery of reinforcements works just fine too; fake it until they make it, as Amanda would say. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Note to self: Figure out how the hell we even got down there?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was easy to guess that the spirit of the Horologium teleported them to its chamber, but why the sanctum? Did it know? </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Table that for later.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Even in the heat of battle more clues were showing up. Could they really not wait until things were more peaceful!? “What about the other groups?” Clearly not, but complaining about it wouldn’t change anything.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hhmmmm….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The lead hunter hesitated in their gestures while Amanda started up the ladder. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“The upper layers will be secure.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>They tapped their left foot twice on the floor and closed their fist before gesturing widely around them. It took Constanze a moment to parse out the meaning, but she got there. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“We do not know about the lower floors.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> A much more understandable point downward accompanied by a shrug and shake of the head communicated that well enough. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze sighed and nodded understandably. “Should have guessed.” But she had to ask regardless, for her own worry’s sake. “Probably not well. Fighting was heavy down there. Really heavy.” It’s where most of the enthralled were entering from, so of course it’d be the hardest to secure. Nevertheless, it was essential that it be made safe. The longer their foes got to maraud about the lowest levels, the more likely it was they stumbled their way into the sewers, and possibly onto the sanctum itself. They couldn’t let that happen under ANY circumstances. “Send a runner,” Constanze knew it well; a plan formed in her head. “Get the other upper groups together. Secure the dormitories and form up. We’ll breach the roof together. Overwhelm anything we find topside. Understood?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Haaaaaah!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The hunter turned on their heels, their coat flourishing as they did so. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Mhhhrrrgh!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>They cast their right arm out toward the entrance to the dormitory wing, and so their comrades heeded the command without any ounce of hesitation. They ran off as dark blurs, avenging mirrors to the silvered knights of Bathory, their coats and ragged black-grey caps flowing behind them like banners in the wind. They would see Constanze’s plan to fruition; the Balefire’s will be done. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oi! Sis!” Just then, Amanda called down from her perch up in the attic-like space between the hall and the roof. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze and the hunter turned and stepped forward to address her. “What is it?!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda climbed down about halfway up the ladder as she spoke. “I got good news and I got bad news! Which do you wanna hear first?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze steeled herself silently. “Bad news.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The roof’s crawling with the fucks!” Amanda spat away a bit of blood that dripped down from her broken nose. “The vamps I mean! It looks like that’s where most of the Fae and monsters are takin’ all of the prisoners they get.” She let herself slide the rest of the way down by just holding onto one of the bars; gravity and friction did the rest of the work. “From there it seems like the knights are carrying them to the ship all hogtied up on their horses.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hmmrgh?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The hunter grumbled. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Did you get a count?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thirty… maybe forty?” Spitballs was all she had to offer, and none of them made this prospect  seem any easier.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze shifted uncomfortably in place. “Mmmmm…. Glad I called for backup then.” She shook off any doubt like they were pre-game shivers and checked over her bandoliers and blaster just to be safe. “The good news?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I got a pretty good look at the big dogfight: Maybe my eyes are playin’ tricks on me, but I’ll be damned if we don’t have the last of their fliers mopped up in a few minutes.” Amanda managed a half smile. “So here’s hoping the relief gets here soon.” Her hope remained bright, just like the flame within. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze returned the expression unknowingly, though she still seemed fraught with concern. “Benjy?” Amanda simply shook her head. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Couldn’t get a good look out that way…. We could always call ‘em  up and—” Constanze cut her short. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm-mm. Mmmhmm.” She brought her blaster to bear, but kept the barrel pointed downward, somewhat at ease. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“No point. Don’t want to distract them.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Is what she meant. “We’ll radio in once we take the roof. Easier to coordinate things from there when we can see it.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If you say so.” Amanda stretched her arms and cracked her knuckles. They’d done well in this “first round,” but “round two” wasn’t looking any easier. “They better hurry though,” She was looking at the icy doors; the runners were quick, but the school wasn’t small. What she’d kill for telepathy. “We’re not exactly big on time, and we got no clue how Diana’s team is doing.” She started off down the corridor to keep an eye on the wider hallways, but she was stopped short by a skeletal hand grabbed her left wrist. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Haaaah….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda shot the hunter a confused look, blinking twice, but earning no direct response. In fact, the hunter didn’t seem to be looking at her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Hrrrrmmghmaaagh.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sure enough, their slow, and careful gestures were aimed at her hip: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Dyyyyyrnwyyyyyn….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amanda felt her throat tense up with uncertainty; confusion. The hunter raised their blue-flame eyes up to meet Amanda’s own plain, green ones. No, that was a lie. They were green, but the hunter could see it in her: The dancing embers, asleep, held back, restrained by bindings of the soul… but not for long. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Wiiieeeeeld it weeeeell….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The knight let go of Amanda’s wrist and said not a word more, not that any were needed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda kept her eyes fixed on the hunter, stunned by their ability to speak. Then it hit her; there was a familiarity to that skull, those bandages, that rusted sword, and the wounds in its armor. Amanda’s frowning concern slowly turned to warm, cocksure pride. “I will.” She and that skeleton had dueled before. “Promise.” And Nine willing, they’d have a chance to spar again one day, as brothers in arms rather than as strangers in a crypt. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The hunter nodded slowly. If they could smile back, they would, but they couldn’t, so a little bone rattle sufficed. It sounded in tune with the distant, but fast approaching sound of more boots and bones. The reinforcements were arriving, and the time for banter was passing. Amanda drew her blades and Constanze charged her weapon. The former pulled her hat down while the latter patted the hammer at her hip. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You got a plan for when we’re up there?” Asked Amanda as the hunters assembled behind them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm-mm.” Constanze shook her head. “You?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well… I got one.” Amanda chuckled and twirled Carnwennan idly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Lemme guess….” Constanze paused as she started up the ladder, ready to give the signal. “Make things up as we go?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda’s grin grew wider, a little fiercer too. “It’s worked for us before hasn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm….” Constanze couldn’t deny that. Live or die, she’d look back on these past few weeks with a strange fondness. “Plan or no plan, I trust you.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda would do the same. “Likewise.” The two shared that understanding with a long, quiet stare. It was a welcome peace before Constanze threw them back into the fires of war.</span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The wind carried ill omens and sparkling lights all the same; remnants of curses and spells slung in defiance and defence against the Bathory menace. Will breathed in that familiar scent, the stinging smell of lilacs aflame, of acrid earth, and sour ice; the strange scents of magic itself. She recognized all of it well, and looked upon the battlefield with a similar sense of recollection. It was not the first grand battle she’d seen fought primarily with magic, but by the gods she hoped it to be the last. Thus she exhaled fury; tired, ancient fury. From her mouth and nose, that exhaled air turned to magical powers of her own, the sympathic waves that connected her and the other Fates to the hordes of enthralled Fae. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She floated not far above the forest’s edge, finding herself about equidistant from both the offshore dogfight and the engagement taking place at the academy itself; a perfect place to reach as many of the already delusional Fae as possible. She gestured violently with her arms, raising them up and flicking her wrists in particular ways while contorting her fingers with equal precision. Each motion conjured up invisible symbols of pain, woe, hatred, and bitterness, emotions made manifest to spurr the Fae to enact their</span>
  <em>
    <span> will</span>
  </em>
  <span>, for lack of a better turn of phrase. At that moment, she was both keeping the thralls who had already launched themselves into battle under control and regaining control over the ones who were left to wander about the forests in a stupor of undirected and unfocused anger. They would form the hammer to crash against the anvil created by the first wave of thralls and knights. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>From Will’s perspective, with a renewed look over the battlefield, she knew that if they were able to successfully pull off that maneuver, then Luna Nova would be leveled for sure. But, in turn, from that same perspective, she could see how poorly the aerial forces of Bathory were fairing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“How infuriating.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She thought to herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s unlikely they could turn the tide all on their own, let alone assure the safety of all nine reclaimers, but….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>But she had her doubts, her fears. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“She’s still not here…. But if not here, then where?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The Deceiver’s magical signature yet remained elusive. Maybe it was clouded by all of the magical flakes that fell like snow? </span>
  <em>
    <span>“No…. No, it’s not possible. Not after she</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>it, after it revealed itself….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>In fact, tere </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> be eldritch energies all around Luna Nova, but Will sensed not even the slightest inkling of such powers that did not emanate from her sisters or herself, faint as it was in the latter. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You were given weeks, Deceiver…. Weeks to rally to your minions’ defences, and yet you still leave them for dead?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Will wasn’t fooled. She didn’t expect an alien from the space between stars to understand the concepts of “love” or “concern” when in relation to any mortal; oh how that knowing stung her heart though! </span>
  <em>
    <span>“But this is all wrong…. She has interfered in EVERY other attempt We and we have made.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She thought of the Claimh Solas and how it came to be in possession of the one they called “The Fool.” It was all too convenient to be anyone but Woodward’s doing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“So why would it abandon them now?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Was she the one who assembled the witches at Porthcurno? It seemed improbable, impossible even. Surely The Fates would have detected such intervention. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Surely it must have some sort of</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span>A flare in the sky, bright and green, fired off from the roof of Luna Nova. It interrupted Will’s train of thought, and brought her orchestrating hands to a halt. Her eyes leered, her carefully positioned fingers curled. “Speak of the devil.”</span> <span>Black clad figures burst from hatches in the roof; one group from the west, one from the east. They moved quick, almost as quick as the vampiric undead whom they engaged, and they wielded their weapons with equal, if not greater precision. They wielded magic too, though their powers were clearly muted: They shot off small bolts of arcane power, sped themselves up with boons, and cast barriers and small waves of flame to ward off the leech-knights. Their bandages flowed in the wind with their capes, and their bright blue eyes filled with flame could be seen across great distances, like beacons of hope for the defenders. The Balefire was resurgent. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That “hope” sickened Willed. “Tch.” She scoffed and lowered her arms to her sides.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Even Calixtus had… rather, has the decency to let the dead lie.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Or at least she did as far as the “soul” was concerned; the bodies were fair game. The animated hunters though were far too nimble, too precise and reminiscent of their former selves; they had to be true reanimations. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“That bandaged hag was willing to break many rules when it came to The Balefire’s ilk, but this?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was a step too far, even for the eight traitors. Will bit her lower lip. Her mind began to race even faster. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Then that means another party is at work here. Either Vaal and Jehanne planned for this…. No, no, they would have needed Calixtus or at least</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Unless….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Two options remained as possibilities, and neither warmed Will’s ever-broken heart. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Unless the Balefire is more powerful than either of them knew….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>An unlikely, but not impossible option. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Or….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Will’s cloak billowed as her blood boiled with suspicious rage. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Or it never involved any of them from the start.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Rageful suspicion turned to self assured hatred. Will’s brow knit itself into daggers. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“So now you show yourself, Deceiver? At the final hour, when so many have already died?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Try as she did, and assuming as she was, no sign of Woodward’s magicks. Will began to grind her teeth, overcome with disgust. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“So that’s it then? You really don’t have a limit to your apathy, do you!?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Worse yet, she felt something she hadn’t in literal centuries: Sympathy for Vaal and Jehanne. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You deceived us, ALL of us, and turned my greatest of friends against me! Turned mankind against itself!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The air grew heavy; gravity intensified. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You broke my heart… and yet you don’t even have the decency to play favorites with your co-conspirators!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her eyes went white as they fixated intensely upon the undead hunters. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You defile their souls like PLAYTHINGS! AND FOR WHAT!?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The very space around her began to distort and “wobble,” like a desert horizon. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What have you EVER had to gain from mankind’s destruction!? What kind of cosmic importance does that DAMNABLE WORM have that places it above the people who LOVED you!? Who WORSHIPED you!?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Every question she shouted in her mind met the void, and the void responded in kind; blissful echoing. The silence was exhausting. Will hated it more than The Deceiver’s own voice in that moment. She just wanted an answer, no matter how insipid, wicked, or complex; anything was better than nothing! That desire, above all else, started to break Will’s resolve. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why…?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She breathed heavily, wearily. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What existence do you intend to lead once all is said and done…?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her fists eased up, but only slightly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Did you not sow the seeds of this future? Did you not come with the promise of a flourishing humanity?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The question bounced around her mind as if it were a thorned pinball, and her brain was nothing but a series of fleshy, hypersensitive bumpers. Pain, agony, loathing; it permeated her very soul. “You may be a reaper, but even the scythe’s edge brings with it a harvest worth the efforts of the season.” The words escaped her lips; a rare lapse in composure. “But that thing… that… serpent… worm… whatever it is! It is… it is a beast! A blind, deaf, and dumb beast! It serves no master! Seeks no glory other than its own! It writhes and it wriggles and it FEEDS! That is what it does! ALL it does! Is THAT </span>
  <em>
    <span>senseless, idiotic, disgusting</span>
  </em>
  <span> excuse for an organism truly worth an entire world’s weight in life!?” The wind cut harshly across her cheeks, like a winter gale through sleeping forests. “Or has all of this merely been a footnote in you and your eldritch kind’s ‘great game?’” The discontented winter air flared and sparkled with the remnants of arcane warfare. It gave no further answers. “But if that’s true… then…. Then why would you build Yggdr—?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A strange sight caught her white hot eyes. Out there, on the rooftops, among the reanimated hunters; two witches clad in clothes not dissimilar to their undead comrades. They fought with a furious and fiery dynamism, pulling off feats of arcane acrobatics and stylish swordplay that Will had seldom seen in other witches. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It matters not.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her despairing mind refocused itself on what truly mattered upon realizing who those two witches were. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Whatever future you plan to bring about, Deceiver, is one that I… no,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Will slowly raised her right hand up to the sky as it began to emanate a bright, blinding light. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“One that we will see dismantled.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A pillar of white energy suddenly burst from her skyward palm. It pierced through the clouds both summoned and natural, serving as a clarion call from Will to her sisters. Together, they would rouse every single enthralled Fae and monster to fall upon the academy in a final, thunderous charge. The Bathory’s objective be damned; they should have disregarded their requests from the start. A scorched earth policy was, ironically or not, all that could save this world from doom now. </span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t give them an inch!” One vampire cried as he blocked blow after blow from a hunter’s flamberge. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“T-There’s too many!” A second found himself far outnumbered, having been caught all on his own when the ambush was first sprung.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“HRRRAAAA!” A third, astride a dread steed, screamed in from the south to aid the second. He gored one of the hunters onto his lance and forced the others to dodge backward as his steed beat them away with its wings and hooves. “DON’T WAVER!” He cried from the air. “IF IT BLEEDS! WE CAN KI—” Well that’s just it. The hunters </span>
  <em>
    <span>weren’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> bleeding. In fact, the hunter who that same knight had just gored began to drive the lance </span>
  <em>
    <span>deeper</span>
  </em>
  <span> into herself just so she bring her boney hands close enough to wring the knight's neck. “JESUS CH—” And strangle she did. “GGHHK! RRRRGH!” The other hunters below similarly defied death. They dashed toward the second, throwing themselves with zealous abandon to great success. A lost arm here, a slashed skull there; it didn’t matter so long as their bodies remained </span>
  <em>
    <span>loosely</span>
  </em>
  <span> cohesive. In the end, both the second and third vampires were brought low and tossed from the roof; or rather, in the case of the latter, the gored hunter killed the steed that was keeping the rider in the air with a swift stab from her belted dagger.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“When did they get necromancers?!” Another shouted just moments before he was slagged by a ball of pure flame. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda was to be thanked for that. “How many fuckin’ times do I gotta say it ain’t  necromancy!?” Two, apparently, but it was weird that it happened twice. “Ahh fuck it!” No point arguing with the undead about what is and isn’t necromancy; she got right back into the thick of it with a dashing strike aimed at one of the preoccupied vampires. She severed his left achilles with a quick cut from Carnwennan, affording the dueling hunter to thrust his sword right through the vampire’s slitted helmet. At the same time, Amanda raised Dyrnwyn high to catch a strike from on high as a knight rushed in from her flank. She turned that into another block, this time down at an angle, as the knight converted the failed overhead into a horizontal cut. Again, he found his blade blocked, but now Amanda’s other hand was free. She wheeled Carnwennan up and around just as the knight made a thrusting stab at her. She shifted to one side, allowing the blade to harmlessly gut the air just beside her chest as she lurched forward and got him in the neck with her dirk. He dropped his blade in a panic and tried to crush or throw off Amanda’s right hand so as to free it from the dagger, but that left Dyrnwyn all too free to find its mark in the vampire’s heart. He gurgled and screamed before turning to ash, freeing Amanda’s blades to let her go again, and go she did. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With a flick of her wrist, she dispersed into a cloud of black smoke as Carnwennan struck true in the back of another knight. The unfortunate vampire tensed up and hissed. His raised arms, wielding a great warhammer, went a bit stiff, preventing him from finishing off the hunter that was laid low just beneath his feet. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Haaaaaagh!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>With this newfound opportunity, that same skeleton upheaved the knight with unholy strength, tossing them forward and overhead such that they landed in a heap behind where the hunter was laying. Agile as they were, the vampire, with that nasty gash along his back and spine, couldn’t land to save his unlife, and Amanda made sure with a burning bolt that he wouldn’t be able to stand to save it either. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Igneosera!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The flame found purchase in his head, ending his life instantly. “Keep it up!” Shouted Amanda. “We’ve got these pasty bitches on the run!” Not that there was anywhere to run to, but she had the right idea. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bathory’s knights were being culled and quartered with brutal efficiency, thanks to not only the surprise assault from Amanda, Constanze, and their hunting party, but also from what Antiquarians yet remained in the air. They had fought valiantly, perhaps more so than anyone else in this battle, for how long they held out, and now their endurance was repaid with vengeance. They swooped in and bombarded the rooftops and grounds with dozens of spells. Knights were sent flying by the blasts, shocked and frozen otherwise, and some were unlucky enough to be cursed by madness; they saw illusionary terrors all about them, leaving them unable to defend themselves against the real threats. In turn, the groundside forces aided the Antiquarians. Constanze kept her eye on the sky, picking away at knights and monsters as they tried to tail and smack down any of the indigo clad witches. The hunters who remained in the backline offered their aid as well in the form of hand crossbows. Even in death, their aim hadn’t faltered, and so heart after heart was pierced from below, turning the sky into a veritable fireworks show of dying bloodsuckers. In tandem, the Antiquarian and Balefire forces were taking control over the battlefield, swiftly and surely.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze could feel the slightest of advantages come over her like a wave of newfound strength. She eased up on her blaster and took in the battlefield from her safer position in the backline. All around her, things seemed to be going in their favor, and better yet, once her scanning eyes brought her to look upon Maxwell and company as they fought in the far off distance, she could see the unmistakable light of the sun crest over the horizon. “Maxwell!” She snapped her blaster open and brought her wand to her lips, dialing up their elder hunter in an instant. “Press the advantage! Sun’s coming up and we have the upper hand! Get to the academy ASAP!” Just as she finished speaking, she could see the telltale flames of burning vampires come to light over the waters of the English channel. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait! The suns here!?” Maxwell could hardly believe their good fortune. “It’s here! It’s here!” The telltale shriek of his whistle blared through Constanze’s wand, causing her to flinch as he shouted orders.  “We’re winning! We’re damn well winning and the suns at our backs!” She could barely make out the relieved cries and shouts of those brave witches from the assault in the background. “Now don’t get sloppy on me! We’ve still got an academy to save! Get yourselves put back together and ride with me! Constanze and company need help!” Another round of cheers and battle cries rang out as Maxwell spoke up again, still overjoyed and ecstatic. “Did ya hear that Amanda!?” He damn near sounded twenty years younger.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m on the same roof as her you know!” Amanda shouted back, sounding a little strained as she was quite busy with mopping up the stragglers. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maxwell cleared his throat. “W-Well, Benjamin, Izak!? Are you hearing—!?” Just then, a sudden bright light erupted from above the canopy. It was a thin white pillar, immeasurably tall and intensely bright, so much so that all who looked upon it averted their eyes. “Bloody hell!” Mercifully, it lasted only for a few seconds. “What was that!?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benjamin came over the wand then. “I… I don’t know! B-But it seems to have gotten that creepy bug off our backs!” The old Brit was huffing and puffing like a man who just finished a marathon. “And what timing! We just finished bashing... the last of her fish friends up!”  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Urgh….” Izak was similarly winded. “Had they stuck around any longer, we’d be sunkl for sure…. Certainly there’s a reason for this retreat.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not all….” The Matron Sorceress interjected cautiously. “The firestorm that once blocked us off is fading, and I no longer sense the sorceries that kept it animed….” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda and Constanze could practically feel Maxwell’s eyes harden through the magical connection. “It’s those damnable eld witches I bet! No one else among the Bathorys could have done any of that!” In the distance, both sisters could see his forces reforming their aerial ranks and rescuing those caught in the channel with all due haste. “I don’t know if we can take them head on ,but if what you told me about them is true, then they won’t be able to fight back directly!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm….” Constanze couldn’t agree more with Maxwell and The Matron; this matter needed to be addressed immediately. “Benjy. Izak. Status: You said you were sinking? What about casualties?” But she couldn’t ignore the plight of the others either.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Benjy guffawed. “Now who said we were sinking!?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I did you idiot!” Izak roared. “Now get below deck! We’re still taking water, no thanks to your carless piloting!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Carless!? Now I’d like to see </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> try and steer this ship around a bloody sea serpent and live Mr.—!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Focus!” Constanze snapped. “Do you need immediate help!? Yes or no!?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A pause followed. “Nope!” Benjy seemed pretty confident, all things considered. “It’s not as bad as three-eyes is makin’ it out to be! He’s just a landlubber who never seen a bit’a water damage is all!” Croatian grumbling and swearing underlaid Benjy’s cocksure dismissal. “I’ll have it fixed right quick!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze sighed. “You better not be lying, Benjy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Lying!? Why would I ever lie!?” His grin could be felt just like Maxwell’s hard eyes. “Now quit worrying about me and stay focused on the academy! I’ll have my crew send up a flare when we’re right and ready at the docks.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze nodded to herself. “Copy. Stay safe. We’ll see you soon.” Both Benjamin and Izak cut the connection then, turning their focus to repairs and recovery while Constanze turned her focus to the roof. Amanda and a contingent of hunters had just finished off the last of the remaining knights. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As a unified group, the undead hunters and Amanda combined their powers to create a powerful Phos spell to send the silvered vampire over the ledge and across the campus at startling speeds. They lost sight of his mangled body somewhere in the forest's edge; good riddance. “That’s the last of ‘em!” She called over the magical connection. “Now get your ass over here Maxy! The skies are as clear as they’ll get and you’ve got all the room in the world to land.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Aye, aye! We’ll be there shortly. Sit tight for now and gather your strength. I’ve a bad feeling about this still.” The connection ended there, just as Amanda jogged over to her sister’s side. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re clear up here; what about down there?” She had her blades lowered, but kept a firm grip on them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm. Checking.” Constanze similarly kept her blaster close so she could whip the wand back in at a moment's notice. “Diana. Do you hear me? Report. What’s your status.” She knelt down low, keeping her smaller frame behind a bit of cover provided by a slight incline on the roof.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Static followed for a moment, then it dispersed to the sound of heavy breathing. “We’re… alright!” Amanda got down to listen in to Diana’s somewhat distant words; she kept her eyes peeking over the ledge and up toward the sky, watching the last of the aerial engagements die out as the battle entered a lull. “We made it to the main entrance… and… and we met up with your… undead companions.” Diana’s voice was mixed with all sorts of emotion, confusion still being chief among them. “The halls are clear… for now.” She seemed winded as well; an intense fight on their end had just come to a close. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lotte pitched in from her own wand. “The F-Fae are running! They might be crazy, but they’re still afraid…! Ohh…. I just hope we can fix them!” So many had died already. Lotte could hardly stomach any more. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda cocked her head to speak into the wand. “We’ll find a way Lotte, stay strong!” Satisfied that the skies were safe enough, she let her eyes drift down to the wand, as if Lotte could see her confident and reassuring stare. “Just take a few deep breaths and dig in. We’re all secured up here and help is on the way.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“O-Ok…. I will. We will. We’ll be ok.” Lotte listened to the instructions as best she could; Malitrix was no doubt blinking away sympathies and advice too. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What about the others? Wounded? Did they make it out?” Constanze leaned in urgently. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“H-Hannah and Barbara both went to the sanctum. So did Jasminka.” Lotte audibly gulped and cleared her throat. “Everyone else who was too h-hurt to go on went with them. Dino and Harper are still with us, but Drew took a… he….” He wasn’t dead, but it was hard for Lotte to break the fact that he’d been stabbed quite viciously. “I don’t know if he’ll be ok….”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze swore under her breath and wiped her chin. Her mind raced and rifled through different responses before the obvious and most painful of questions came to mind: “And Sucy. Did you see Sucy? Is she down there?” Lotte fell quiet. Eerily so. “Lotte?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Akko was forced to answer the question on her teammates behalf; she was no less mournful. “We haven’t seen her or any sign of her alchemy…. No poison in the air, no creepy magicks….” Akko trailed off as her memory tried to make sense of things. “Wasn’t she with you and Amanda when you went to get the bike?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She was,” Replied Amanda. “But we lost her when we started driving.” She bit the inside of her cheek, curbing her rising anger. She wouldn’t forgive the Bathorys or herself if Sucy died today, not after they’d all collectively been through; not after what she said to her in the arboretum. “There were knights and harpies and bats everywhere! She had help but… but I’m looking now and...” She felt her fists tighten as she scanned the skies once more. About six or so Antiquarians were hovering about the rooftops, regaining their strength, while about five more were engaged in chases off over the forests; none of them looked like Sucy though. “And I ain’t seeing sh—”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Amanda! Constanze!” A strong voice, deep, proud, and familiar, rang out from above and behind the two sisters. “Up here!” They turned sharply, eyes wide with disbelief; their hopeful hunches were proven true. Ibrahim had survived. “You’re alive!” He swooped in from the west atop a flimsy broom, his robes slightly torn, and his hat long gone in the wind, though he was not alone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A witch, clad in the selfsame indigo of his covenant, flew alongside him on a similarly battered broom. “Constanze! O’Neill!” Though she seldom needed an introduction.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“S-Sucy?!” Constanze shot up to her feet, dropping her wand and blaster frame wholesale as her mind blanked itself. She stood there, witless and overjoyed, while Sucy damn near crashed into the roof. The Filipino witch landed in a shambling and haphazard run, the kind Akko would do when she was still getting the hang of the whole “flying” thing, and dropped all pretense of care for anything else but her closest friend, alongside her broom. The bruised and near broken stick clattered to the rooftop as the two embraced. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze buried her head against Sucy’s chest, and Sucy in turn hid her face in Constanze’s hair. “Mmmm...” Words were more or less beyond Constanze at that point. The greatest of weights was lifted from her shoulders, if only for a few moments. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I made it back...” </span>
  </em>
  <span> The world seemed bright. “Mmmmhmm.” The battles seemed distant. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Like I said I would.”</span>
  </em>
  <span>  It was as if they’d already won. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Like I promised.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Were it so easy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I knew you would….” Whispered Sucy. “I was more afraid I wouldn’t be here when you got back.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze turned her head up just enough to peak at her beloved’s ever-tired and closed eyes. “Me too….” Her grip tightened around Sucy’s back and waist. Sucy returned the gesture in kind. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda took her hat off and let a genuine smile take hold. “Well I’ll be damned….” She was happy as hell to know both Sucy and Ibrahim were alive, but Amanda was all bewildered: It was the first time she’d ever seen Sucy hug someone so vigorously, so earnestly and emotionally. The only one who came close to matching her intensity was Jasminka, though the spindly framed  and ghostly pale witch was surely unable to dislocate shoulders so easily. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I guess she wasn’t lying when she said they had something together.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Now Amanda could only hope they’d all make it out so that this could become something more. Ibrahim burst that proverbial thought bubble of Amanda’s with a quick and quiet aside. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Amanda,” He’d landed more gracefully, or sensibly rather, and hoofed it on over to Amanda’s side. “I don’t want to interrupt the moment they’re having, so would you mind catching me up to speed? How did you get…” He stepped back and eyed her from head to toe and gestured in sync. “All of this?” He’d heard about the whole Horologium plan from Sucy when the two were reunited in a desperate battle back on the New Moon Tower, but he hadn’t really wrapped his head around it until now. “How long has it been?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda figured that out after a few moments of confusion. “It’s been three weeks.” She'd nearly forgotten the whole “time stop” shenanigans that even allowed them to get into this situation, even if they’d only returned about a half an hour ago. “And lemme tell you, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of shit happened in those three weeks.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I…” Ibrahim slowly scanned the rooftop. The realization that skeletons inhabited the dark and ragged clothes crept up on him eerily. “I can see that….” He was inches from inquiring about necromancy for the third time overall that night, but stopped short when he noticed that some of the hunters were communicating with one another. He couldn’t understand let alone hear a word, but their mouths were unmistakably moving. “You’ll need to debrief me another time,” He shook his head and ran a hand through his short curls all rough like. “For now I want to know what our next move is, and—” And he was cut short and startled by an unholy clamor; like that of a deranged gull. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A great white bird flapped madly behind and above Ibrahim, having dived in as if homing in on prey.“SCCRAAAWACK! ACK! ACK! ACK!</span>
  <em>
    <span>” </span>
  </em>
  <span>But Alcor was only here to scream and caw to no one’s delight; their words went on deaf ears, for no one could understand the magical bird. “KAWKRAWACKACK!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ibrahim inhaled slowly, heavily. “... And I need to figure out what this bird wants.” Lest his eardrums be destroyed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em><span>“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU NEED TO FIGURE OUT WHAT I WANT!?” </span></em><span>Alcor was resplendent in form. Their feathers were a pure and beauteous white, besmirched and ruffled only because the fighting had run the fowl ragged. </span><em><span>“WHAT I WANT IS FOR SOMEONE TO LISTEN TO ME!” </span></em><span>Their demeanor remained fouler than ever though.</span><em><span> “VAALS FUCKING BALLS! HOW HARD IS IT TO</span></em><span>—</span><em><span>!” </span></em><span>And their vocabulary was just as colorful as before.</span> <span>“—ACKACK CRAWCRAW SCREEAACKACK!” Not that anyone knew what they were saying. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda clamped a hand over her ears. “Wait, is that… Alcor!?” Alcor screeched and squawked even louder now that they’d been recognized, causing both Ibrahim and Amanda to wince. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sadly,” Sucy opened her eyes just a hair, and her disinterred frown deepened just a bit. “It is.” So much for not ruining the moment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda shook her head and rubbed her ears. “What the hell is he doing here?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We saw him from the New Moon tower, and Manbavaran recognized him as a familiar for one of your professors.” Ibrahim spoke to the group as he kept a semi-watchful eye on the sky. He brought his right hand into his cloak as he did so, rummaging about for his currently collapsed pike-staff. “He was being hunted by a mad beast, so we rescued him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“TOOK YA LONG ENOUGH!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Alcor squawked. “SKREEACK KAW!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> Ibrahim ignored the bird as best he could. “He’s been following us ever since.” He brought the thick metal cylinder that was his pike-staff out and held it in hand. He was ready to unleash the weapon at a moment's notice with the simple click of a button. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I knew Akko wouldn’t forgive me if we didn’t help him,” Sucy broke away from Constanze, but the two remained close. “And I had a bad feeling about letting him go.” Alcor cawed and chirped annoyedly. He turned toward Sucy with what must have been a bird-like expression for “disbelief.” Was Sucy implying she thought about leaving him to deal with the Were-Bat on his own? “If he was flying around like that, then that means Chariot’s in danger.” Her tone, which always seemed to lack the appropriate amount of urgency, sure made it seem like she did. “Or we’re already too late.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“OH! YOU DON’T FREAKIN’ SAY!?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Alcor gave their wings a rest and landed on one of the tiny chimney ports jutting out from the roof. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s not like I’ve been tryna tell you that for oh, I dunno, TEN WHOLE FUCKING MINUTES!?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Really, for a bird as old as Alcor was, they should have been aware of how a broken pact of familiarity would affect them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It was eight minutes you dumb parrot….”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Though it seemed Sucy managed to understand bits and pieces of Alcors squawking despite that. Little did she know herself that such a thing </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> be impossible for a witch, given the two were not pactbound themselves. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We weren’t too late to help you.” Constanze addressed Sucy’s worst fear directly. She squeezed her hand as a sign of good faith. “We won’t be too late to help her.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> Ibrahim kept a strong grimace on his face throughout the conversation. “We can only hope, Constanze.” The world was cruel, and his coven had suffered greatly. Too many promises of survival and protection were broken already. “We can only hope.” He cast his eyes inward on the academy, allowing him a view of the distant witches off the coast as they scrambled, and affording him a view down into the shadowed central courtyard. It was surprisingly unmarred. “Hmmm.” A bit too surprisingly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then let's stop chatting and start looking!” Said Amanda, fiercely. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ugh! If I wanted to go find Chariot, then I wouldn’t have flown AWAY from her to begin with!? I want to find DIANA and AKKO! Those names sound familiar!?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Alcor was desperately searching for the aforementioned loves as Chariot requested. The bird had no interest whatsoever in finding the supposed corpse of his dearest friend and former pact-bound witch. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Do you guys not understand a word I’m say</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>!?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze raised her wand back up to her lips. “Already on it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ibrahim leaned over just a tad to scan the grounds directly below them. Again, it seemed clear, though the shadows and dark clouds didn’t help. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Of all the places to not see any of the carnage….” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The statue stood tall as it always did, unphased and unbroken, and the surrounding shrubberies, while dying from the cold, remained perfectly in line. Ibrahim sighed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“At least something will make it out of this unscathed.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>How wrong he was. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze continued unabated. “Diana. Akko. We found Alcor. No signs of Chariot. Going to start looking for—”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“ACKACKACKKAWKAW—!” Alcor flew into a frenzy, flapping and cawing like a deranged parrot.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>YOU INSANE!? Calixtus wept, do you people tell each other ANYTHING!? She’s DEAD! They SAW HER F</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A swatting hand smacked Alcor upside the beach and breast. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“HERRK!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>It made them honk like a goose. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Back!” Ibrahim spun his head about to catch sight of the commotion. “Off!” He saw Amanda get in between the recoiling Constanze and the bird. Both she and Sucy warded Alcor off with bewildered and annoyed glares and swiping slaps. “Christ! What is wrong with him!?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s a magical pigeon, Amanda.” Sucy drolly intoned. “The fighting probably just has him spooked.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then something caught Ibrahim’s eye from the periphery. He didn’t register it at first, being too caught up in the nonsense just behind him, but there was a queer purple and red light shining from within the courtyard. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“PIGEON!?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Alcor snapped his beak on his tongue, cawing in pain. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“ACK!”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sucy rolled her eyes. “You heard me.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah? And you’re about to hear</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The moment passed and Ibrahim sensed it then. He shot his head right back around and saw it: A sickly dark crimson ball of energy coagulating in a pulsating and electric mass. Ibrahim’s eyes went wide. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze blinked. “Wait, who are you talking to?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alcor.” Sucy blinked in turn. “Why?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Words escaped Ibrahim in the immediacy. Another moment passed as the energy condensed further and further. The light intensified, chasing away the shadows. It revealed a man, tall, clad in blackest night and heavy steel, a cape flowing red like blood, and wielding a sword as sharp as the moon's crescent. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda put her hat back on and cocked her head, dumbfounded. “But... he’s just squawking…?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Another half second, another glimpse: Eyes filled with zealous rage, perverted obsession, wrath to the point of insanity. Illogical revenge taken to its logical conclusion. This was the face of the man who wielded the power of magicks and vampirism… albeit, not in any true sense for the former. This was the face of Nikolai Zrinsky. “Get down!” Ibrahim spoke up as he backpedaled. Everyone turned to look at him, silent, stunned. All too late.“GET DOWN!” Ibrahim leapt out of the way just as their eyes fell upon him. He cast himself off to the left in a dive, saving him from the worst of the ambush. The others weren’t as lucky.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The light hit their eyes first, and then the blast struck the rooftops slanted edge. Dust billowed, shrapnel flew, and bricks clattered down into the courtyard like jenga blocks. Screams were heard, and so was the sound of spellcasting. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“PHOS!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>But then all became quiet as the valiant defenders, those boney hunters and the Antiquarians who were flying nearby, made sense of the event. When the dust settled, they saw Sucy laid out on her back just a foot or two from the collapsed section of roofing. She looked injured, dazed, struck by shrapnel no doubt, but alive. Alcor was next to her. They were and truly unconscious, and had nearly been clipped in the wings by the shrapnel, but they too yet lived. Ibrahim was nearby, and far more responsive compared to his comrade and their tag-along bird, though he was on the other side of the gap. The gap itself then was… unusual to say the least. It looked like one that </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> have come from a pretty standard explosion, be it magical or mundane, but there were elements that just seemed </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span> about the damage. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The stone wasn’t just blasted, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>eroded</span>
  </em>
  <span>, turning to dust; fading. The wooden bits were similarly disintegrating, though perhaps </span>
  <em>
    <span>rotting</span>
  </em>
  <span> would be the more correct term. The cloud itself was somewhat off too. Streaks of red and purple and black mixed in with the more natural browns and greys of the dust. Any half-seasoned witch would be able to sense the magicks about the blasted zone, but hardly any would be able to identify its origin: “Necromantic…?” Ibrahim was among those few. “Was that…?” He lifted his head up and twisted his body around; sat up on his butt and his right forearm against the roof. “No…. NO!” He scrambled forward, clasping and grabbing at the ruined edges as they too rotted and faded away. The necromantic magicks, twisted and congealed into their purest forms, served less as a method of giving life, and more as a source of pure unlife, of true rot and unmaking; death at its core. Thus, it was no accident that Constanze and Amanda </span>
  <em>
    <span>survived</span>
  </em>
  <span> that blow, for Ibrahim could see them borth laid out in the thick shrubs down below. “Amanda! Constanze!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ahhh…. Christ!” Amanda writhed and groaned. She was twisted up in the branches with her sister, having been the one to save them from the fall with a well timed Phos spell. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm…. Mm… Amanda?” Constanze’s eyes fluttered open, and then her body seized into action in a sort of spasm, a delayed reaction to the passed danger. “What hit—US!” All it earned her was an uncomfortable tumble out of the bushes and onto the cold, hard dirt. “Mmgh….” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ibrahim felt relieved, but fear still gripped him. “Get up you two! Get up! You’re not alone down there!” He got to his feet as best he could and rounded the gap to aid Sucy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wha…? What!?” Amanda rolled herself out of the brambles with no more grace than her sister. But she managed to land on her hands and feet rather than her back. “What are you—!?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Amanda….” A deep, dark, and noble voice carried over the courtyard. It caught both sisters attention immediately. “Is that what they call you, hunter?” Their hearts sank and flared all in one motion. “What an unassuming and boresome moniker.” Nikolai had been waiting for them, and now they had fallen into his trap, just as “God” foretold. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda got onto one knee and drew her blades swiftly, firing out two bolts of burning lightning as she drew Carnwennan while Constanze rolled onto her stomach and slapped blaster together. She took aim at the motionless, smirking, and shadowed form of Nikolai. Two shots, but not a scratch upon him. The bolts and slugs fizzled just before impact; a flicker of purple and red, sparks and of magical static. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Shields!?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constanze couldn’t believe it. The bastard had been given a bloody arcane shield! Well, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmhmhmhm, yes,” Nikolai cracked his neck to the left, and then to the right. “It is good to see you again as well, Von Braunschbank.” Slowly, intentionally, he stepped from the shadowed arches of the open air halls and revealed himself in full. He was wearing the same armor he always had when facing the sisters and their ilk. Its dents had bene rebuffed, its scratches removed, and the damage repaired. More importantly though, he once again had two hands, though one was hardly natural. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze leered and squinted, and finally, once he was out in the strange twilight cast over Luna Nova, she could see it clearly: His left hand was part machine and part flesh, a misshapen clockwork and steaming reconstruction of what should be a natural mandible, or at least a fleshy stump. It possessed five fingers just as a normal human hand mind, but at the end of each fingertip were little red gemstones pushed into the salvaged flesh. They acted as conductors and gatherers of latent magical energies and drew them in from the air about him into the center of his palm. There laid a powerful purple gem, a conduit for necromantic magics, and through the twisted necro-machinery of Bathory’s Apothecarians, Nikolai was able to use this prosthetic to wield the powers of undeath as if he were not undead himself. Thus was his body protected from Constanze’s slugs and Amanda’s bolts.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikolai threw his arms out wide, grinning madly with his fangs bared “Oh? What’s wrong Von Braunschbank? Are you perhaps </span>
  <em>
    <span>afraid</span>
  </em>
  <span> to face me as your ancestor did?” Constanze stood up sharply, shakily. She could feel her hands begin to tremble, her legs begin to stiffen, her heart race, and her lungs quicken. “You hardly showed such concern </span>
  <em>
    <span>last time</span>
  </em>
  <span> we met…. Where’s that Von Braunschbank I knew? That Von Braunschbank I </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Nikolai made himself sound smooth and composed, but he was well and truly gone at this point. He was nothing but a mad dog out for blood, fit only to be put down as a mercy. Then again, Nikolai had long since forgotten the meaning of the word mercy. “Maybe she died along with her whelp of a father….” Constanze ground her teeth. Another pull of the trigger and pump of the barrel and still Nikolai stood unyielding. “What a pity.” She could hardly stand it. Amanda had to hold Dyrnwyn out in front of her just to ward her away from a suicidal charge.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>From on high, Ibrahim could be heard shouting orders. The hunters heeded him well, as did his fellow witches of the coven. An aerial surround formed on high while about twenty or so of the undead avengers lined the inward edges of the roof alongside Ibrahim and Sucy. Each of the undead brought their hand-crossbows to bear while the witches raised their wands, staves, and tomes of power, all of which were aimed squarely at Nikolai. And yet he simply stood there, undaunted. “Ah, but did you truly think I wouldn’t expect this?” His grin did not waver, but neither did the aim of his enemies. They unleashed a barrage of bolts and spells at the princeling vampire, but their target was all too ready, and all too quick. He dart out of the way in a blur, darting off to the right to take cover behind a pillar as bolts and blasts of magic followed him in a loose pattern. “Fire all you will,” He reached down to his belt and drew a small horn from his waist. “It changes nothing!” From the safety of the shadows he blew into it loudly, proudly. The blaring boom sent what few birds who remained in the forest trees off and away from their perches, and it turned the defenders' gazes elsewhere. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>From the treeline surrounding the school, dark horses sprang up, around fifty in total, ridden by knights, as expected. What separated them though was the black capes that draped down their shoulders, and the black marks upon their helmets; ashen signs of a crucifix. These were the Bathory's most zealous of warriors, having been swayed not only by their obsessive loyalty unto the mad-dog lord, but also by his claims of prophecy, of divine intervention and destiny.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With the overwatching foes now distracted, Nikolai remerged from cover. “God has shown me how this night will end!” He strode back out into the twilight calmly, but with heavy and foul footsteps. “He has shown me how the morning will come!” His blade twirled idly by his hip, as if this was but a sporting contest. “Dawn approaches, as does your end, hunters!” He raised his sword and pointed it toward Constanze and Amanda, his grin as wide as ever. “And yours, Amanda, Braunschbank…. Yours will come at my hand, and my hand </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” The sisters looked up as they heard Sucy and Ibrahim giving orders and rallying the defenders back toward the outer edges. Constanze and Amanda were alone now,  alone in the courtyard with their most persistent and loathsome of enemies. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> They were left with two options: “Sis?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmmm….” Constanze practically growled her grunt of acknowledgement. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m leaving it up to you, just like I promised.” Amanda took deep, long, and measured breaths. “Are we running, or are we fighting?” Help couldn’t be far. There were hunters on the inside too, and surely Diana would have their companions ready to aid them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze knew that to be true, but even with the aid of her forge song, common sense was… difficult to utilize. “We…. If we run….” She wavered on it while Nikolai simply paced back and forth, allowing them the “honour” of striking the first blow. It gave Constanze the time she needed to try and focus, to temper her rage and hone its edge into that sharp point that The Spirit of the hammer told her about. Time slowed, her head began to throb, her mind moved a mile a minute, and even with her eyes shut tight, she could see everything: Visions of fire, visions of hate. The nightmares of ripping and tearing. The lost broadcast where Nikolai first revealed himself, unwittingly or otherwise. Their encounters with him, first at the edge of the dome, then again on the mountain, and now for a third and final time in the midst of Luna Nova’s final day. Each painful moment washed over her like acid rain. Each tear was a memory that ran down her cheek as acrid droplets. She breathed in and out shakily, and as she did, the tears going down her face began to fade into mist and steam. She, like her flamingo haired sister, was burning up inside, but her fire was far colder than anything Amanda knew. She opened her eyes and had only one desire in her heart: To kill the man, no, the monster who faced them. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> him dead.” Her voice was a hiss, her expression merciless. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda nodded slowly and sighed. “Then we’ll give ‘em hell and more.” She wasn’t so sure about their odds, or her own ability, but she made a promise, and dammit she was going to keep it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>However, “He’ll die </span>
  <em>
    <span>later</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Constanze had sharpened her sense and wit, her fury, to the point of </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> sense of management. “Need to fall back. Lure him in.” She fiercely whispered. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda turned her head fully, slightly shocked. “You sure about this?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Very.” Constanze pumped her blaster once more and took a step back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda joined her in turn, raising her swords defensively. “What if he just shoots us?” Nikolai followed them slowly, inexorably. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He won’t.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda shifted her eyes between looking at Constanze on the periphery to staring at Nikolai. “How do ya know?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not his way.” Constanze almost hated the fact that she </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> him, in some twisted way. “Wants us to suffer. Wants to make it personal.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amanda found little comfort in that. “Fuckin’ a….” Even if it meant they wouldn’t be turned to ash. “So how’re we getting away from him then?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmmm….” Constanze was still puzzling that out. “Faster than us…. No easy way out.” A quick glance over her shoulder saw the doors were crudely broken and barricaded; Nikolai had prepared for this more than either sister could have. To say the least, it was disquieting to see the fathoms of his obsession take form like this. “We’d need to—”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maxwell’s voice coming over Amanda’s dagger interrupted Constanze. “We’re on our way! We can see the bastards from here! Just hold fast! We’ll drive them out sure enough!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze and Amanda both saw their eyes drawn to Carnwennan, and then to Nikolai as his grin slowly contorted into a disgusted scowl. “You heathens never could fight your own battles.” His seeming discomfort brought a slight bit of confidence to the sisters. They stepped forward now, matching Nikolai’s movements. He hissed and flashed his fangs. “Look at yourselves! Look how you cower when none ride to your aid, and how you advance you feel so sure of yourselves and your misbegotten ilk!” He cast his left arm wide in a sweeping motion. “All of you are cowards at your cores!</span>
  <em>
    <span> Craven! Worthless! Cowards!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And you're a sick and twisted sonuvabitch who should keep his mouth shut!” Amanda wouldn’t let him prattle on unchallenged. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nikolai thumped his chestplate fiercely. “If I am ill, then I am the </span>
  <em>
    <span>godsent</span>
  </em>
  <span> plague meant to punish the wicked! The unworthy!” His voice rang out over the distant sounds of battle; clashing steel and blasting spells.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze spat venomous words through her teeth. “You’re delusional.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmmph!” Nikolai wrly smirked. “You wouldn’t be the first witches to hide behind such </span>
  <em>
    <span>base</span>
  </em>
  <span> claims!” The din of war was then joined by the sounds of whooping, screeching, and howling; the sounds of maddened thralls on a warpath. “Speaking of those witches…” Nikolai’s grin returned in full. “I must admit, their heresy… has served us well.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Constanze and Amanda looked around hopelessly for the source. Neither could make sense of it, and finally, after a few moments passed, their eyes shot down to Carnwennan as Maxwell came over the wand again. “Bloody hells! We’ve been cut off!” The sounds of a stampede sounded nearby. “It’s the Fae! They’re rampaging!” They came in a tide, every last beast, monster, and Fae enthralled to The Fates sympathic magicks. They would level the academy wholesale. “Our formations all buggered! They came up from the trees! Dozens of ‘em!” Screams rang out in the distance; the reinforcements were scattered. “AMANDA! CONSTANZE! BRACE!” Those were the last words Maxwell was able to speak before the connection was cut. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maxwell!? Maxwell!”Amanda tried her damndest to speak to him, but the magic was growing so dense in the air that it was like a nuclear blizzard. No word would come in, and no word would get out; an arcane deadzone as far as communications went. “Damnit!” Now there really was no other option for them but to stand and fight.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you see now?!” While Nikolai “knew” none of this to be luck. “God has demanded that we settle this battle </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>, under </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> watchful eye!” He arched his back, turned his body to one side, and gripped his sword in both hands. “And neither he nor I will suffer </span>
  <em>
    <span>any further interruptions</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He put his right foot forward, taking a wide posture with a high-guard stance. “So come, hunters of the Balefire!” Amanda roughly matched his stance with her left foot forward, and Dyrnwyn held up while Carnwennan was kept low and forward. Constanze in turn flexed her fingers and shook off her shivers of rage. “Come and give me a fight worth killing you for!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Thus the wages of vengeance would be paid for in full. Paid for in blood.</span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<hr/>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. The Wages of Vengeance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's here! Part one of the thrilling conclusion to The Balefire Rekindled! I expected this to be the last chapter, but if you've been following my tumblr, you'll have seen that I wanted to make sure Nikolai's battle had the time and space it deserved. Furthermore, as you'll see, there's more going on here than just the stuff with Nikolai, though that is the chief focus of that chapter!</p><p>The next chapter will see our heroes raid the Bathory castle in an attempt to try and put an end to this nightmare, once and for all! Stay tuned for it, and comment if you have suggestions/critique you'd like to offer!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A storm had fallen over Luna Nova. A storm of blood, steel, and spell. It filled the air in a snow-like flurry, a terrible stench, a harrowing dread. The wind itself shrieked and shriveled as it carried those emotions, notions, and sensations across the isle, adding its own shrill howls to the cacophony of battle. Witches darted and danced on their brooms; knights upon risen and stitched steeds did much the same. Flying Fae and monsters on the other hand launched themselves into an unstoppable frenzy, both on the ground and up high. The combatants filled the air like warring ant colonies might fill a lawn. Numerous, chaotic, somewhat indistinguishable. Who was friend and who was foe? It was hard to say from a glance, and indeed, it was difficult to say from within the madness itself. Even The Fates, who involved themselves more directly in this particular skirmish, found themselves dizzied by the whirling tornado of action. They cast boons to aid their “allies,” or pawns rather, and either bound or hexed the witches in whatever ways they could; Pact permitting of course. </p><p> </p><p> This storm, this maelstrom of violence, served as the explosive and hopeless backdrop to the duel that was about to begin down below in the courtyard. </p><p> </p><p>Words were said, glares were head, anger was tempered and unleashed in turn, and finally, weapons had been raised. Now, silence, ephemeral and icy, took hold. Amanda made no sound as she shifted leftward, pacing outward toward the east fringes of the courtyard. Constanze similarly kept quiet, though she herself couldn’t help but hear the grinding of her own teeth as she moved to the right, mirroring her sister. That left Nikolai in the relative center of the would-be garden to advance, silently, psychopathically. To the witches, this storm was a nightmare, one that would never fully leave them no matter how much they drank, smoked, prayed, or dismissed; this day would forever haunt them. To Nikolai, it was much the same, but instead, the storm would live on in his mind as one of divine absolution. </p><p> </p><p>The silence lingered. A deep exhale washed over the three combatants. Then the silence left, just as quickly as it came:</p><p> </p><p>Quick footfalls. The sound of a gun. The roar of a mad dog. Thunder from on high. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> KA-KRACK THOOOM! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The “duel” began in earnest then. Nikolai had rushed forward to meet Amanda blow for blow while Constanze shot out yet another slew of fruitless slugs. Their blades clashed near the central statue. Nikolai turned his pointed high guard into a spearful thrust which Amanda caught with both blades and raised above her head as she took a lunging step forward and got low. Immediately she tried to dispatch Carnwennan from the block to get in a quick and easy stab at Nikolai’s chest, a bid to end the fight quickly, one Nikolai would not permit. He shifted himself in place, bending back and to one side, as he raised his sword up and curved it back around for a slash to Amanda’s left. The hunter disengaged, jumping back with a quick Phos just as Constanze laid another volley into Nikolai’s flank. His sword cut air, and the slugs fizzled to dust. “Hmhmhm.” Nikolai chuckled. Constanze sneered. She sent another spiteful shot his way to the same effect as the last five while Amanda and him postured for another clash. </p><p> </p><p>The Witch-Smith looked down at her blaster and swore. “Gott Verdammt!” As the curse left her lips, she dismantled it with a simple slapto one side and a quick pull on the release gauge. The blaster opened with a satisfying clack, and Constanze took her wand in hand. In that same instant, Amanda made her move. She threw Carnwennan up and at an angle to appear about ten feet above Nikolai with Dyrnwyn slashing down. The favored son of night heard her before he saw her strike, but his absolute focus and obsessive preparation for the fight had him ready. He glanced up for one fraction of a moment and leapt forward in a deft dodge roll in the next. Amanda landed hard, her blade cleaving a deep wound in the earth and shaking her core, while Nikolai counterattacked. A simple twist and twirl saw his roll converted into a one eighty spin at the end, his sword flashing from below and swiping up to catch Amanda amidst her recovery. Alas, a thick wall of stone and dirt caught his sword part way through. Nikolai could only turn his head, his grin fading to a ghoulish scowl for just a moment as he looked at Constanze from over his shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>She had her right hand forward, wand pointed and at the ready, and her left hand raised with two fingers. Just afore the free hand, a faint rune faded away. Her glare said it all: <em> “I don’t need my gun to kill you.” </em> Balefire willing, she <em> would </em>make good on that promise.</p><p> </p><p>“Hrrrrgg!” Nikolai growled and the wind whistled, except it wasn’t the wind. The sire of Bathory unlodged his blade and raised it to his left just in time to catch Amanda leaping out of a black cloud with Dyrnwyn poised to cut his head right open. Amanda again tried to go for a cheeky stab with Carnwennan, but Nikolai was already expecting it. He let go of his sword with his mechanized hand and grabbed her right wrist in turn. Her face twisted in pain. Carnwennan fell from her hand. </p><p> </p><p>But Constanze put a stop to that quick. <em> “ELECTRA MAGNARIA!” </em> The spell came invisibly, and unabated, bypassing the shield with ease, and causing Nikolai’s blocking blade to begin turning on him. The sword found his heavy metal armor to be quite <em> attractive </em> . Immediately, he was forced to relinquish Amanda’s hand from his near-bone-crushing grip and retreat from the melee. He stepped and stumbled back, throwing his metal hand high to catch his own blade while Amanda recoiled and recovered. The metal hand grabbed the weapon firmly, sustaining superficial damage, allowing Nikolai to turn his sword away by pure strength alone. Constanze repeated the incant furiously. <em> “ELECTRA MAGNARIA!” </em> Again the blade pushed hard, harder in fact this time, but Nikolai was ready, and while his shield couldn’t block <em> all </em> magical influence, his newly crafted hand would still be his savior here. It glowed with a queer crimson and purple light as Nikolai bore his fangs down. A few moments passed as the blade came closer to cleaving back with Constanze pushing all the while, only for a quick flash of purple light to have her blink and recoil. When she looked upon Nikolai again, she saw that her influence on the sword and his armor was nonexistent. <em> “How?” </em> It was the first and only word that came to mind. <em> “How!?” </em>And the only “emotion” to fall on her face. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai read it openly, sadistically. “Your witchery…” He lowered his mechanical hand and twirled his sword freely. “Cannot stay my blade.” He took a few steps further back as Amanda recovered from her tightly wrung wrist. He watched eagerly as Amanda scrambled for Carnwennan, and spoke when she was poising herself for another clash. “It does not matter if you try and bring your devilish powers to bear against me. God has already decreed my victory.” </p><p> </p><p>“To hell with your ‘god this’ and ‘god that’ talk!” Amanda spat her defiance. She resumed her former stance, this time with Carnwennan up high and Dyrnwyn down low. “That piece-a-shit hand of yours has magic all over it! You ain’t better or worse than any of us!”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh please!” Nikolai laughed. “Do you think me blind? An idiot perhaps?”</p><p> </p><p>“Took the words right outta my mouth!”</p><p> </p><p>“Tch!” Nikolai wrinkled his nose. “God has demanded I kill you here, and so I shall! By any means necessary!” He held the sword up with one arm out, the tip pointing at both sisters, and raised his mechanical hand up to examine it quickly. “A foul thing this is… but even the demons of this earth exist by the will of Providence!” He cast his mad eyes toward Amanda and Constanze. “But every soul shall have its day.” He brought his sword lower, hilt at his waist, and blade angled upward and away from him; a standard mid-guard. “So come. We are only just beginning.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda loosened her stance and shook off the shivers of their last clash. “Alright….” She mumbled to herself. “Let's do this.” She let her eyes drift to her left, expecting to see Constanze ready and raring to go. Instead, she saw a perplexed and befuddled witch; damnably, ruefully so. “C-Conz?” </p><p> </p><p>In through one ear. <em> “—Be impossible. Basic arcane principles would make such a small yet effective null-magical mechanism impossible to </em> — <em> ” </em> And out the other. “Mmm…!” Constanze was stunned, scientifically speaking. The machine Nikolai had incorporated into himself, it made no sense, not to Constanze at least. <em> “ </em> — <em> An equal or greater amount of magic would be required to nullify an existing amount, and to counteract a spell that quickly while not short circuiting the shield would require both </em> — <em> ” </em></p><p> </p><p>“Conz!”</p><p> </p><p>“HRAAAH!”</p><p> </p><p>The Witch-Smith blinked; Nikolai was upon them. “Phos!” Amanda pushed her sister out of the way, saving her from Nikolai’s vengeful lunge, and snapping her out of her engineering stupor. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai shot past where Constanze once stood, coming to a skidding halt as his boots dug in, and swinging his body around from the waist up with his sword to meet Amanda’s expected counterattack. Their blades clashed again, sending sparks from their metal and from Amanda’s flame-like flamingo hair flying. She threw Carnwennan past Nikolai then, just as their blades began to slide in the clash, and disappeared in a puff. Nikolai was growing wise to this trick of hers though, so he spun around again with a great sweeping strike, and again their blades met with a resounding:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> CLANG! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>On and on the exchange went, for another fifteen seconds at least. Amanda would throw her shadowed dirk in one direction, and Nikolai would respond in kind with a wild swing the moment the black smoke billowed up. From the outside, it was hard to even see what was happening, but once the exchange had passed, it was clear that neither side had gained any significant advantage: Amanda was breathing heavy, having let Carnwennan fly much farther so as to gain distance. Her posture was low, and her wrists a little shaky from the residual force of having to withstand clash after clash. On the other hand, Nikolai didn’t breathe harder at all, but that wasn’t strange. Were it not for a few new scratches along his armor, and one legitimate wound on his right forearm, one would think he’d perfectly countered her every attack. Alas, the gash, while having pierced his forearm’s protection, was nothing more than a passing annoyance as the vampiric regeneration quickly took hold. “Hmmph.” They were practically back at square one, though Nikolai didn’t mind. <em> “I suppose it’s only fitting for God to test me like this again. </em> ” He thought of Čachtice, of the hunter who came to Emanuel Von Braunschbank’s aid. The way Amanda wielded that dagger, the very properties of that dagger; it was all quite familiar. <em> “Though her sword hardly compares to that burning blade.” </em>And yet he couldn’t help but think there were more familiar things about the young hunter. </p><p> </p><p>It was that passing curiosity that gave Amanda a chance to figure out what to do next. “Sis!” More importantly, a chance to figure out what in the hell was wrong with Constanze. “Sis! Do something!’ She was just sitting there, stunned, but not witlessly. “Constanze!” Still, it took a hissing whisper from Amanda to snap her back to reality. “What’s wrong!?”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze’s gaze darted between the pacing Nikolai, and her guarded sister. “Doesn’t make sense. It <em> doesn’t </em> make sense.” She shot up to her feet as quick as she could and raised her wand, her focus now solely on Nikolai. “Shouldn’t be able to dispel magic like that.” The blasts from her rifle were one thing, but even they should have been at least difficult to diminish in full. “Shouldn’t be able to <em> ignore </em> magic like that.” A direct hex though? That should have been impossible to dispel without a proper counter-incant, or some other means to disrupt the caster. “Doesn’t. Make. Sense.” She reiterated. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, well saying that ain’t changing shit!” Amanda met Nikolai’s disdainful yet inquisitive stare; it sent a chill up her spine. “Let’s just kill him and—”</p><p> </p><p>“Amanda.” Constanze interjected quietly, yet loudly all at once. “How am I supposed to <em> kill </em> him if nothing I can do <em> works </em> on him.” A question, but also not; more a statement. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda waffled for a response, both to Nikolai’s careful movements, the signs of a predator preparing to pounce, and to Constanze’s point. That’s when a switch flipped in Amanda’s head, one that made her feel similarly disempowered. “... Shit.” But before she could even voice it, Nikolai made his move. He came at the two witches in a blur, his blade dragging hard along the ground behind him. Sparks flew, and a fine cut was dug into the stone and dirt, one that terminated when he came just upon his quarries and flashed the blade upward with terrible strength. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda let Carnwennan ferry her away to the right while Constanze poised her golden gauntlet on the central statue and let the dagger fly true. She zipped away in sync with her sister, just as Nikolai’s blow struck home, and rounded the statue once before landing in a run. <em> “Mmmm… hmm! </em>” Amidst her momentous stride, Constanze flicked her wand wielding wrist up, down and to the side three times, one for each spell: One conjured icicles and shot them forward. The next was a hex of rust put upon Nikolai’s armor, and the last was an earthen spell that sent a craggy shockwave snaking toward her hated foe. Nikolai faced each of these arcane assaults in kind. </p><p> </p><p>The icicles came in a small cloud, cutting through the morning air like bullets, but Nikolai was hardly outpaced. He shunted himself to the left in a blurry sidestep, then to the right all the same. His blade moved with him in figure eights, shrapnelling the thick pikes of frosty death as he dodged back and forth between each hail of daggered ice. He’d moved about fifteen feet in moments when the storm of cold ceased, and his joints began to lock up; the rust took hold, turning his armor into an even greater burden, giving Amanda an opening. She ran up behind the vampire lord as fast as she could and brought Dyrnwyn around in acleaving strike meant to leave him legless, but all her blade found was frosted steel to block her way; an over the shoulder block. In the next instant, Nikolai was returning the favor. He shifted his body around, slower than he normally would, but quick enough to be deadly, and opened up on Amanda in a series of five quick strikes. Amanda was put back on the defensive as metal flakes fell from Nikolai’s moldering armaments. He was hindered, but hardly halted. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda blocked the first easily enough, a simple sidelong swipe, but then she got sloppy. Dyrnwyn caught Nikolai’s sword at the end, allowing it to slide off and leave a superficial but piercingly painful cut on her left arm, and the third blow similarly left a glancing blow on her hip. The last two strikes she avoided entirely, if only because she Phosed herself away in retreat, landing her fifteen feet back. Nikolai raised his mechanical hand and let loose another flash of dispelling light to rid himself of the rusting curse just before he made to chase after Amanda. But before he could, the sound of craggy earth, roused to wrath and ruin, became just too great to ignore. Then the earthen snake launched him into the air with a powerful blow from below his feet, and now he really had no choice but to try and land softly. </p><p> </p><p>He was shot up high, nearly cresting the courtyard’s statue in terms of height, and was met again by Amanda’s twin blades. The daring hunter lurched from below in a puff of smoke and emerged with eyes aflame. Dyrnwyn and Carnwennan were both brought to beary in a quick flurry of blows as she Phosed her body around in a tightly wound aerial spin, done at a diagonal. <em> “Typherious…!” </em> Nikolai flailed his blade up to block, but the first few strikes dashed it aside with ease, allowing the rest to strike true. <em> “Phos…!” </em> A series of cuts found their home on Nikolai’s breastplate in a matter of seconds, each digging deeper into the same spot than the last did. <em> “Elara Elera!” </em> It ended with a final strike from Dyrnwyn, aimed down, and empowered by a powerful wind spell. which sent Nikolai plummeting down to the earth. He struck the courtyard like a comet, his body bruising and chipping the cobbled walkways and digging into the dirt as he rolled along a straight path away onto the opposite side. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda landed gracefully, firmly. Her knees hurt, and her legs trembled as the force of her fall caught up with her, but damn if that wasn’t good. “Hah!” Nikolai lay motionless; it seemed like a resounding win for the hunters. “I think God left out the part where you get your ass kicked!” Were it so easy. </p><p> </p><p>“Schwester!” Constanze ran over as she jabbed her wand over at Nikolai. Her less than jubilant tone chased Amanda’s grin away in an instant, and forced her to face the reality before her eyes: Nikolai rose from the cracked cobble with little difficulty, and his wound, wall sizable, once again proved ineffectual. “Need to hit the heart and head!” Constanze scolded her sister, but not out of anger, out of fear; the very real fear that any other vampire should have gone down like a sack of bricks from a battering like that. “<em> Heart and head </em>!” Instead, Nikolai was rising steadily, regaining his composure with a disturbing level of ease despite what his agony twisted expression might say. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I know!” Amanda brought the twin ivories to form an X in front of her; a caged stance, one that hardly spoke to confidence. “Easier said than done!” Especially when you’re airborne. </p><p> </p><p>“An <em> interesting </em> tactic...!” Nikolai bellowed and rolled his neck. Amanda could have sworn she heard his bones pop into place from all the way across the courtyard. “But just like your order, it is impotent!” He pushed each of his shoulder guards back into place with a forceful crunch before running one hand over his already healing chest wound. “And your blade is just as ineffective!” He was in immense pain, but pain had led him to defeat time and time again, and on this day, defeat simply wasn't an option. </p><p> </p><p>“Sunnova…!” Amanda swallowed back spit as she caught her breath. “Does he really gotta brag every time he regenerates!?” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze snapped at Amanda. “Focus!” And so she did, taking advantage, again, of what little time Nikolai allowed them. “Figuring him out. Bit by bit.” Constanze gestured to the earthen spike left in the ground  with her wand while still watching Nikolai. “Can’t block objects. Only pure magic.” In the distance, Nikolai collected his sword and his wits as his mind ran through a similar thought process, albeit quietly. “Need to keep trying things. Need to uncover his weaknesses. Need to exploit them.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda rolled her neck and flexed her fingers along her blades’ hilts. “Well he flew about as well as a brick….” </p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm.” Constanze bit her lower lip. “Won’t be easy to pull that off.” He’d already come to anticipate a few of Amanda’s moves. Constanze had no doubt he’d learn her own spells just as well. “Not many ways to throw him.” </p><p> </p><p>“And I got a <em> bad </em> feeling fire ain’t gonna cut it.” Fire magic at least, which was all Amanda really had in the offensive spell department. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze grumbled again, more tensely this time, but then it clicked. <em> “Fire!” </em>She went to unholster her blaster and put it back together, but just as she began to do so, Nikolai came at them again. This time though, he wouldn’t be catching them flatfooted; not Amanda at least. </p><p> </p><p>The brazen hunter moved the instant Nikolai did, and went to match his path to buy Constanze time to do whatever it was she was doing. It led to the two swordsmen clashing again, once, twice, and then not at all; Dyrnwyn and Carnwennan cut the air. Nikolai had gone. Amanda blinked. She’d been letting her swords fly on instinct, on feeling, and it was working, but it left her brain a half step behind the action; a half second behind the realization. “CONS—!” She couldn’t even finish her sister’s name before she saw it. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai was past Amanda now, not by much, but by enough to be in reach of Constanze. His sword was arced up and slightly behind him, and his posture was slightly hunched. Constanze was just beyond his hulkish frame, on the ground, sat on her rear end with her hands flat and behind her. Fluid was flowing out of something and onto the grass below. It was dark, discoloured, a bit hazy looking— “A weak plaything,” It wasn’t blood, but oil. Gasoline from the tank of Constanze’s now sundered blaster. “For a weak woman.” Slowly and surely, he was realizing just how weak a link Constanze was against his necromantic shield.</p><p> </p><p>But Balefire be damned if Amanda was going to let this chain break. “BASTARRRD!” She screamed in from behind him in a blind rage, too fast to be countered, and too reckless to be predicted. Carnwennan struck first, a knife to the back, and Dyrnwyn came next, but again found only the air. Nikolai had lurched to one side after the dirk stuck itself deep in his lower back, and in turn Carnwennan was ripped from his back in the midst of his evasive motion. Amanda’s rage filled mind immediately went after him, but her eyes caught sight of Constanze’s yet living form before her body could communicate the emotion into action. “C-Conz?” Amanda felt relieved, but her voice was still laden with that misplaced horror. Constanze in turn could only nod and scramble to her feet, recognizing all too well what had happened from Amanda’s point of view. “Thank god….” She would have done the same were the positions switched. </p><p> </p><p>“That…!” Nikolai chortled forcefully, painfully. He backed away in a slight stumble, his sword held up in a warding posture as his back recovered from the <em> wicked </em> gash that had been rent across his back and waist. “That is what I want out of you wretches!” He licked his lips, his fangs; he was salivating. “True zealousness! True devotion!” The fact that a metal dirk had just been about five inches deep into him no longer mattered. “I want what I saw in your eyes, Von Braunschbank! I want what I heard in your voice, Amanda!” His instinctive backpedaling slowly turned into a plodding advance. “I want to see just how willing you are to die for this…!” And then it became an insatiable advance. “I want to hear you SCREAM!” Nothing was stopping him at that point, and nothing did.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> CRASH! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He strode and struck with the swiftness of death’s scythe, but the wound he left was hardly clean, and his aim was as animalistic as his gaze. His blade struck the cobbled path between the sisters, sending Amanda and Constanze stumbling back as the stone heaved and shattered into shrapnel on the wind. Vampiric strength, combined with the all out disregard for anything but pure and total victory, turned his overhead swing into a monstrous hammer blow, and that was only the beginning of his assault. He came again, first for Amanda, but then for Constanze. Amanda jumped back, and Constanze ducked low. Nikolai’s blade cut just inches away from either. The former blocked the next underhanded strike, and the latter hastily conjured a shift in the earth beneath them, just in time to send Constanze out of the stab’s reach. On and on Nikolai went, pinballing between the two as if he were possessed; his assault was incessant. </p><p> </p><p>After what felt like an eternity, but was in truth a mere ten seconds of unrelenting offense, Amanda found herself knocked around and to the ground by the gnarliest backhand she’d ever received in her life; pommel and gauntlet and all. She collapsed and rolled a few feet away, her blades discarded, and a piece of a tooth along with them, but Nikolai didn’t pursue her further. No, instead, he did as he had been, and <em> shared </em> his wrath with Constanze; ever the <em> fair </em> murderer. He made for the young Von Braunschbank as soon as his body had wheeled around to face her. Nikolai fluidly followed the motion his heavy and backhanded pommel strike gave before he got low and sprinted forth. Then, with a deft leap, he lurched forward. “HREEEEE!” Nikolai screamed and hissed like a rabid bat as he wound his sword back up and over his shoulders in both hands, ready to relieve Constanze of her own head. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> KAKRACK-THOOOM! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Thunder sounded from above, adding to the already raucous chorus of war that swirled over them. Meanwhile, down below, Nikolai’s blade was kept at bay by a hammer held high, radiant and powerful, illuminating the tension and rage on Constanze’s face; malice barely restrained. The two were deadlocked in a clash that Nikolai <em> refused </em> to break. “That’s it….” He luridly growled. “There’s the hate I was hoping to see.” He sounded almost <em> fond </em> of it, that expression, and all the emotion Constanze carried with it. “Hmhmhmhm…!” The two stared into each other's eyes, Constanze out of necessity, and Nikolai out of bloody, <em> bloody </em> desire. “Why were you hiding it, Von Braunschbank?” Flecks of spit hit his cheek in response. Nikolai’s insane grin tightened. He continued: “Why have you been holding yourself back?” Constanze tried to shut his words out, but even her forge song was not enough to quiet her broiling mind. “In fact, just how did the <em> proud </em> and <em> mighty </em> Von Braunschbank bloodline become so… diluted?” Images of her father, mother, aunts, uncles and cousins, their faces flashed in her eyes, all of them before death, in their flawed but peaceful lives. Then she forced herself to blink, and suddenly they were mutilated, torn, and brutalized beyond recognition. “Was it a matter of lethargy on your patriarchs part?” Corpses all, taken far before their time. “Or has your wicked kind simply gotten too <em> comfortable </em> with their place in this world?” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze could suffer him no longer. “GO TO HELL!” She screamed and brought her hammer head down to redirect Nikolai’s blade away from her. Then she wildly swung it up to meet his cheek, only for their blades to become locked again, this time in Nikolai’s favor. And yet he didn’t take <em> full </em> advantage of it. </p><p> </p><p>Instead, he twisted the psychological knife even harder. “Answer me, Von Braunschbaaaaank!” With all the cheery and casual candor of a close companion, uncanny valley as it was. “Tell me what you’re doing here! Tell me why you’re bothering to <em>resist</em> anymore!” A quick twirl of his blade and thrust of his head turned the clash into a disarming flourish and headbutt, throwing Constanze’s familial hammer off to the side, and sending Constanze herself back in a stupor. “I want, <em>no</em>, I NEED—” Unphased by his own bruised and bleeding forehead, Nikolai trudged forward and grabbed the stunned Witch-Smith by the collar with his fleshy hand. “—I NEED you tell me...” He held her up by the scruff of her neck as if she were weightless, eyeing her with rapturous endearment. “What it is…” A slow, careful turn of his body saw him and Constanze poised toward the distant, grounded, and writhing body of Amanda. “YOU’RE FIGHTING FOR!” And all it took was one heavy handed toss for the two sisters to be united in dull, thudding pain. </p><p> </p><p>Their bodies collided against each other in a ragged heap, with Constanze bowling over Amanda in an awkward tumble, pushing her stomach-side-down sister over onto her back in the most painful way possible. Amanda clutched at her face and back equally, unsure which pain was worse, but very certain that she was more than a little incapacitated by the overwhelming sensation. Constanze on the other hand was far more fit to pick herself off of the cold earth with a shaky push from her arms. She got onto one hand and both knees, raising her free hand to touch her forehead, and then the back of her scalp, if only to confirm that she was bleeding in both places. The warm sensation of her blood combined with all the noise from above and the biting cold air nearly froze her in a similar fit of overstimulation to her sister, but Nikolai’s heavy metal sabatons thunking along behind her kept her all too present and aware. They were distant, slow, and repetitive; pacing steps.</p><p> </p><p>“So what will it be, hunters?” Nikolai was off and away, on the other side of the courtyard, walking back and forth as he eyed the witches. “Will you die like the dogs you are?” Constanze raised her head up enough to follow his steps with her own rueful gaze. “Or will you at least explain why you bite and snap at the hand of God that feeds you?” Again their eyes were joined in hate, if only for a passing few moments as Constanze forced herself up and fumbled for her wand and hammer. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda hissed out a response. “You don’t make any—Tch!” She rolled herself onto one side, clutching the left side of her face with one hand and propping her body up with her right. “FUCKING sense!” A sharp shove brought her to her knees and then her feet. She watched him prowl with a similar but lesser disdain when compared to her sister. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t I, Amanda?” The usage of her name made Amanda wish she was named something else. It was as if his very utterance defiled it for all time. “Are you truly going to reject my one attempt at decency?” If this was what Nikolai called decent, then Amanda was sure she’d puke at his “rudeness.” </p><p> </p><p>Before Amanda could make that insult though, it was Constanze of all people who interjected with something besides defiance and anger. “What do you want?” Her cold unflinching tone, devoid of nearly all emotion, her eyes, fierce, and piercing, and fists, clenched to the point of whitening, all spoke to an anger beyond comprehension. </p><p> </p><p>“Have you not been listening, Von Braunschbank?” He was met with silence and scorn, and so he continued. “Then use your eyes and behold!” Nikolai stretched his arms out wide and cast his gaze to the war torn sky above. “Behold the glory of the day!” Witches, vampires, monsters, and Fae;  none of them were safe from death at the hands of each other. “Behold and witness not just the beginning of a new era, but the triumph of ideals!” </p><p> </p><p>“Your ideals suck shit!” Shouted Amanda as she called Dyrnwyn and Carnwennan to her by way of magic. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai was quick to counter. “And yet I haven’t even told you what they are.” He drew his eyes down sharply to meet Amanda’s gaze then and lowered his arms to his side. “So why don’t I tell you in less uncertain terms why God has chosen <em> us </em> to be rulers, and <em> you </em> to be ruled?” The proposition left Amanda and Constanze bewildered and even angrier. They gave each other sidelong looks of shared disgust, only for their heads to jerk back around when Nikolai continued. “It’s not like you have a choice, of course, but think of this more as… an invitation from me to you:” His interruption did little to chase away their disbelief and resentment. “I’m not a fan of one sided conversations,” Constanze had to hold her hammer out in front of Amanda just to stop her from bringing up the mountains of evidence against that claim. “And so I do <em> genuinely </em> want to know what it is you hunters are fighting for.” </p><p> </p><p>“Didn’t come to talk.” Constanze bitterly retorted. “You came here to kill us. We came here to kill you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t mistake my desire for understanding for a sign of mercy.” Nikolai’s playfully taunting, and wicked tone fell away with those words. His more familiar yet equally unhinged grimace had returned. “I <em> will </em> kill you, and I expect you to at least <em> try </em> to kill me.” He got low and spread his legs as he raised both hands up to point his sword out toward his prey; a high guard position, and an aggressive one at that. “But I haven’t waited over four centuries for my vengeance to be realized imperfectly!” As if a mask had fallen from his face, Nikolai let slip the most honest words he had in his wicked body. “God has delivered you to me! He has given me a second chance to face you as I faced your forebears, but this time! Yes, <em> this time </em> , he has ensured that there will be <em> no </em> chance for escape!” He could see it in his mind. The rendition of that first grand battle between Bathory and the forces of the “unwashed” world. It showed an immaculate and heroic day…. The lie he crafted to cover up the simple failures of a bodyguard and son to protect his queen and mother. A quick bit of bladework, a distraction here and there, and the battle that SHOULD have been Nikolai’s greatest ended up not even being a battle at all. Just a half-successful assasination attempt. “You two WILL face me! And you WILL die by MY hand!” He wouldn’t let history repeat. “But should you be willing…” Though he was quite eager to see how it rhymed. “Then you will heed my invitation and perhaps be granted a chance before death to… <em> recant </em> your ignorant ways.” The thought of Amanda and Constanze begging for reconciliation under his blade had him salivating again. “For I have tested the convictions of your compatriots, and I found them to be…” And so his wicked grin slowly returned, as did the mask. “...Wanting.” Though he had failed to realize that no corpses marred the courtyard. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda and Constanze were similarly oblivious to the matter he was referencing with Chariot, but now they clearly understood his intentions: They would duel, just as they were, and in the midst of their bloody battle, they would, for lack of a better term, wax philosophical. “Sis…?” As if he couldn’t get <em> more </em> insufferable. “Are we seriously gonna bother with this?” Amanda muttered her query, as did Constanze with her response. </p><p> </p><p>“Could be useful.” She never thought she’d be saying such a thing about a monster like this, but she had unwittingly come to the same conclusion that Chariot did: “Likely to draw out the fight if we keep him interested.” Because all they needed was for him to “cut loose” and open up on them with another bestial assault. “Buys us time to find an opening. Figure out how to get past that shield.” Without it, Nikolai would be at a SEVERE disadvantage, isolated and outnumbered like this. </p><p> </p><p>“I guess….” As if Amanda had many other alternatives to offer. “But all we’ll need to do is bust that hand up.” She gestured to Nikolai’s left claw. “Right?”</p><p> </p><p>“My PATIENCE is WANING, hunters!” Nikolai maintained his pose, but he was visibly trembling with anger, hunger, and anticipation. “Answer me now or raise your weapons!” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze looked back to Amanda, expressing her sentiment through expression and a grunt alone. “Mmmhm.” She nodded. <em> “Easier said than done,” </em> But there was more to it; an exhale of slight confidence. <em> “But we didn’t sign up for an easy job.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Amanda returned the sentiment in kind, just as silently and subtly as her sister did. <em> “Damn straight.” </em>As long as they fought together, they’d never be hopeless; both sisters were certain of that. “Fine!” Amanda called out. “We’ll play your shitty game!” She got down into a defensive posture, a much more proactive one this time, with Dyrnwyn held out and up vertically while Carnwennan was held out horizontally. “Just don’t blame us when you win a shitty prize!” Nine how she hated her brothers. But dammit if they didn’t give her a decent line to use here. </p><p> </p><p>“If childish taunts are all you have to give me,” Nikolai squinted and bore his fangs, sharpening his rage to mirror his blade. “Then I will be <em> sorely </em> disappointed.” Again the thunder sounded on high, and the battle swelled with it. “Now…” The sisters tensed and held their breath. “Let us begin again…” While Nikolai leaned forward by just a hair, the only warning of the violence yet to erupt. “One… last… time.” And finally, after one last long moment, their duel resumed in earnest. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> At the same time…. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Reality refracted. Lights danced. Screams echoed. Day broke. Chaos took held of the skies above Luna Nova just as it had many nights ago, and Chaos commanded her namesake to see this battle won…. At least, that was what the Witch in Black would do, were it not for the crushing weight of knowing, of a thousand dark futures marching toward the present in deathly lockstep. This terrible truth in her mind made the battle itself seem almost pointless, an emotionless and passionless affair, from which the eld sorcerer could draw nothing but slow burning dread. </p><p> </p><p>She floated up high above Luna Nova’s wracked edifice, in the eye of the proverbial tornado, flinging her claws and antennae about to perform profane and complex gestures to twist the marionette strings of the Fates sympathic magicks. Degrees of separation aside, she knew well that more than twenty lives had been snuffed out by her hand, and yet none of them felt like anything. There was no vengeful glee, no wrathful release, and certainly no prideful sense of conquest in her actions, just the dull, monotonous motions of time. Maybe it was the matter of her unfettered precognition, leaving her numb to the deaths that she had already seen hours before actually causing them. Maybe it was the despair she’d welled up inside her for centuries, let loose only by the sobering clarity of her now <em> perfectly lucid </em> self. Or maybe it was just the fact that she knew how it all ended, not just for her, but for so many, that made what should have been a moment of righteous retribution about as eventful as watching paint dry. </p><p> </p><p>Another gesture, another snap of some mad beast, another downed broom and rider. <em> “We were fools,” </em> Chaos chittered lazily, mumbling words in her mind. <em> “We were such damnable fools to think anything but doom would come of this.” </em> Slowly, uncaringly, she lifted her left claw up and erected a barrier of swirling eld magicks, black and purple like a toxic nebulae. A spell intended for her was sucked into the void, one she didn’t even need to turn her head for to know that it was coming. <em> “We should have simply left well enough alone.” </em> With just as little attention given, she startlingly flicked that same claw and shield at a downward angle, just as the same spell was shot out of the barrier, now changed and charged with powerful eld energies. <em> “Maybe then there would have been a chance for survival.” </em> The backfiring spell struck its original caster, one of Beck’s crew, on their side. It stuck to their jacket like napalm, and it sizzled like acid. Then it started to grow triple jointed and chitinous limbs, claws, tentacles, tongues, eyes, and talons; hungry, <em> very </em> hungry. <em> “Just a few lives. That is all we would ask for.” </em> The hooligan tried to bat it off, but every crushing blow served only to make the eld-thing take on a new more insane shape. <em> “They could be sent elsewhere as a kindness for our cooperation.” </em> His screams joined the chorus as the unbidden slime-thing’s mutated flippers allowed it to leap at his face and begin to feast. <em> “At least then humanity might have some sort of future.” </em> First he was drowned out by the rest of the violence, and then he went silent as he crashed into the roof. <em> “But would she truly allow that?” </em> Chaos wasn’t even sure who she was talking about. Was it Will? Cause? Effect? Ime? Or The Deceiver itself? Chaos would never know. <em> “Unlikely….” </em> And it didn’t really matter. Nothing did. </p><p> </p><p>Pain from within! A splitting jolt of agony up her chest, like lightning along her spine! Chaos tensed, clutched at her carapaced neck, and wretched up another torrent of black bile. The pain echoed, first going up her body, then down, until receding entirely; all within the span of a single second. “Ughh….” An awkward twist of her neck to one side let a wayward spell whisk by her harmlessly. Then she rose up and parted her robes slightly; just as she feared. “So, it’s nearly time then?” A small series of cracks had formed at the center of her bosom. Like her mandibles, it leaked that awful black fluid, but worse, a light was shining out from it; faint, but undeniable. “Yes…. Yes, I suppose you are just about—” Chaos paused briefly, but only to shunt herself to the left as one Antiquarian made a pass at her with a shamshir. Her slash caught nothing but air, despite having quietly charged in from behind. “—Ready to be on your way, Child.” The bellowing of a sea beast. The courageous cries of a young woman coming into her own. The sound of rushing water; or was it gasoline? Yes, it was unmistakable; Chaos knew this moment well.</p><p> </p><p>Her body shivered and chittered. “Krkrkt….” The unhallowed hour, the moment Chaos dreaded most, would soon be upon them. <em> “But not yet,” </em> Chaos closed her robe and returned her focus to the battle at hand, casting her eyes down and around. <em> “Just a few minutes more….” </em> She watched as three figures danced, dodged, dashed, and daringly dived at one another in a duel of wills and bodies. <em> “And our future will be chosen.” </em> Needless to say, there were <em> many </em> outcomes to this fated duel, and it was quite difficult to tell which was the most likely to come about. Regardless of which came to pass though, each would greatly influence the course of the histories to come. <em> “If only we wouldn’t end up at the same destination regardless of who lived and died.” </em> Then Chaos would have considered intervening, perhaps even on the witches’ behalf rather than on Nikolai’s. <em> “But nay, we are cursed,” </em> She brought her eyes back up and resumed her maddening gestures of puppeteering. <em> “Bound to very thing we named ourselves after, the very thing we swore to change….” </em>The Witch in Black sighed deeply. She made peace with neither gods, nor men, nor herself, for how could she? The fate that awaited her was a harrowing one indeed, one that even the old Titans of her peoples ancient mythology would shutter at. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Am I a fool then? A fool to pray that what is about to transpire may be painless?” </em> Indeed, it would be foolish. <em> “I see….” </em> Her expression eased. Her tense limbs softened. The world became weightless. <em> “Very well then:” </em> It had taken the better half of the past millennium to reach this point, <em> “Come what may. Black stands at the ready for its reprise.” </em>But now, at the very least, Chaos could ease into her doom with the solace of understanding, knowing that— </p><p> </p><p><em> “No punishment lasts for eternity.” </em>… Indeed. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Back down below…. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>What once was untouched was now just as ravaged as the rest of Luna Nova. The grass was singed by little flames, the remnants of Amanda’s failed assaults with fire magic, and upheaved by both sword and wand wounds, the results of Nikolai’s wanton wrath and Constanze’s earthen fury. Cobbles were strewn, and flecks of blood no marked some of the stones; their most recent engagement had left Amanda bleeding from her left shoulder, and Constanze from her right thigh. Nikolai too had suffered wounds, but, much like the rest, they healed all too quickly to be relevant, and what little blood stained his forehead meant nothing. </p><p> </p><p>They were stood apart, in a loose triangle shape, far and away from one another, as they began Nikolai’s would-be “debate.”</p><p> </p><p>“This world,” Ane he would start them off just as he did with Chariot. “Certainly you must know it to be a world in pain.” He flexed his fingers, regripping his sword with redoubled zeal. “A world of corpse-like people perpetuating corpse-like empires, rotting from within, godless and barbaric, built on and driven by greed for greed’s sake alone….” He put his left foot forward and readied his blade in his fleshy hand, leaving the mechanical one free. “Even the most <em> ideologically </em> inept of your misbegotten kind knows this to be true.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze panted heavily, slowly. “And? Your point?” Her hammer and wand both were beginning to leave faint imprints on her palm. </p><p> </p><p>“I haven’t invoked God’s name and will without reason, Von Braunschbank.” Nikolai eyed Amanda’s attempt at subtly readying a spell of sorts, and met her “underhanded” tactics with biting steel. He rushed at her, forcing Amanda to cast a less complicated, more instinctive spell. A heavy gust of wind buffeted the raging vampire with the arcane ash that fell from on high, blinding him partially, and allowing Amanda to counter his high and then low strikes with well placed blocks. Constanze came in at the same time with a flask of Draco-lichen oil, having chucked it from afar with telekinetic magicks, aimed squarely at Nikolai’s busied body. But he was no man, and so his preternatural senses and speed allowed him to react to even the faintest hint of something flying in at him from the periphery. His mechanical hand caught it easily, just as he opened up on Amanda with a third strike, again to her lower half. Again it was blocked, but his intent was never to hit her. Instead, he tossed the flask to their feet, such that it shattered and spilled out toward Amanda, and then dashed back with that selfsame inhuman speed while dragging his swords tilt on the ground. Sparks flew, and a fire ignited on Amanda’s coat and boots. </p><p> </p><p>“Wh-AH!” Amanda jumped back, startled, and quickly went about blowing the flames and oils away with her full focus and windy magicks. Nikolai chuckled, but only for a moment, for Constanze interrupted him, or rather, her hammer did, as it floated on over at surprising speed and began to flail itself around as if wielded by an invisible foe. The chain that connected it to Constanze rattled and clattered like an entire prison gang as it assaulted him with swift and devastating blows. He caught the first attack with his sword, one aimed for his head, and the second too, as it went to smash down on his right shoulder, but there was no sensible move he could make with his sword to block a whirling strike to the chest from such a small yet powerful hammer. </p><p> </p><p>“Grrgh!” The blow cracked his armor further, and the blow resounded down his chest to where the old wound Diana and Akko made yet resided. Pain flooded his senses, only to leave a moment later, returning him to the numbness of false-life. From his stagger, he tried to grab at the floating hammer, but it retracted from him too quickly, and so his mechanized hand grasped nothing but air as the Von Braunschbank heirloom returned to the hand of its rightful wielder. A growl of annoyance escapes Nikolai’s barred fangs. “I speak of him only because he has spoken to me first.” He continued on with his prior rambling as if nothing had occurred in between. “And by his decree,” He straightened himself out, and began to pace again while Constanze went to her sister's aid. “We will see this world revolutionized and returned to its natural state.” </p><p> </p><p>A few moments passed as Constanze conjured water to douse Amanda’s burning coat. Luckily, it was undamaged, all thanks to that ingrained resistance to heat in the enchanted leathers, and so Amanda reconstituted herself quickly. “Hold up!” She yelled. “Tell me what the hell is natural about a vampire!?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ours is a gift given by god and—”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, yeah, save me the bible lesson!”</p><p> </p><p>Nikolai snarled like a bull. “The rule of kings and queens is the natural state of things. It is the way God intended us to live.” He focused his rueful eyes on Amanda’s own sparking orbs. “It is our divine right to reclaim what is ours and depose the sinners of this world who have forgotten their place.” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda pointed Dyrnwyn out accusatorily. “That’s horseshit and you know it!” </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai scoffed. He was beginning to fear this would be a repeat of his argument with Chariot; a true shame. “You can muster passion and rage into your strikes, but if vulgarity is all you can offer to this dying world, then you and yours are <em> unfit </em> to continue existing!” His dismissive glare turned slightly wide eyed when she saw the chained dagger soaring toward him. He shifted to the right just before it struck him and followed it with his eyes. It landed smack dab in one of the distant arch-pillars just beyond him, embedding in the stone. Then he looked back to the witches and saw Constanze screaming in with her hammer as the chained gauntlet worked its magic. Another deft dodge was the only thing that kept his head from being caved in, but Amanda was all too ready for him to be distracted like that. She appeared just behind him, airborne, in the same instant he dodged Constanze’s hammer blow, and delivered a swift roundhouse kick to the back of his head. He stumbled forward, unsteadied and confused, only to quickly whip around with a wild strike meant to counter whatever followup assault Amanda employed. Except it didn’t work; the next thing he knew, his blade had soared over Amanda’s ducked head, and Dyrnwyn was deep in the left side of his chest. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai gasped. Amanda grinned. Constanze dislodged herself from the pillar in a haste and fell to the ground clumsily, only to look on in shock…. And then the realization struck when Nikolai’s grin began to return. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Motherf </em> — <em> ” </em> Terrible, <em> terrible </em> force came over her. Brute strength, but also deathly, stinging numbness, like a deathly curse. Amanda’s neck had been seized by a cold hand made of necromantically charged machinery. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai raised the young hunter up high. “You hunters—” Though he was interrupted by a hate stricken Constanze charging up a powerful spell.  “—Don’t seem to get it—!” In turn Nikolai interrupted her spell with a harsh toss of his own sword, horizontally, toward the Witch-Smith, forcing her to go to ground as the blade cut <em> deep </em> into the pillar behind her. “Do you?” Then he casually threw Amanda to the side, sparing her so that this little game of his might continue. “God has… already decreed me the victor!” He paused if only out of pain while he pulled Dyrnwyn from his chest. “Hnnngh! Agh!” It came free with a sickening sound of cutting meat, followed by the even more disgusting noise of that same meat mending itself. “You live…” He examined the blade curiously as he spoke. “Because I,” The sword seemed mundane at first, but the ivory color of the hilt, and the fiery gemstone on its pommel; they looked familiar. “Have yet to be satisfied.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda hacked and cough like never before, clutching at her neck as if she were choking, and writhing on the ground in a bit of a panic. Constanze hurried to her aid once more while Nikolai occupied himself with inspecting Dyrnwyn. “Schwester!” She knelt down and examined Amanda’s bruised neck. “Schwester!” Amanda let loose with another series of whooping coughs before she was able to breathe again, albeit desperately. </p><p> </p><p>“J-Just—!” Amanda rasped. “—Peachy!” A weary thumbs up confirmed her <em> relative </em> well being. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze shot her wrathful gaze up just as Nikolai spoke again. “So satisfy me!” He bellowed, dissatisfied with Drynwyn and the convictions of his foes, thinking both to be false. “Or shall I just end this charade here and now?!” He <em> really </em> didn’t want to, despite his threats. He had neither sated his ego nor his bloodlust. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze felt a warmness in her mouth; blood. She had unwittingly bit down on her cheek as she mustered up a response. <em> “Verdammt it all!” </em> Like so many times before, she felt she was at a loss for words. <em> “What the hell does he want us to say!?” </em> Constanze had no doubts that the monster before them was so delusional as to practically exist in a fantasy. <em> “He thinks this is right. Thinks this is justice.” </em> And by extension, so was Ludinghal. <em> “All to fix what?” </em>Corpse empires full of corpse people…. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze waffled on the words as time seemed to slow. She thought of the days and years before their world turned upside down, and even of the times before magic was restored; her days as a child. Life didn’t so much as flash before her eyes as did the understanding of what her existence was like: First, it was simple, safe, <em> convenient </em>. Life was laid out for her, like so many other children in Germany and the world beyond. Go to school, learn a profession, and thrive. She enjoyed tinkering, making things, but found the reach of her mind extending well beyond the grasp of her father’s simple tools. </p><p> </p><p>Magic came into her life, and suddenly <em> she </em> was making her own path. Sure, her life hadn’t been completely decided like Amanda’s was in regard to her over controlling family, but it seemed like society at large already knew what to do with Constanze, and so many others, before they had even become free legal agents. Magic was what shook that formula up and landed her in Luna Nova, but even there, life seemed… decided. What would she do when she grew up? She was happy to live a simple life, one of manufacturing and creation, the same life she lived as a youth. But that wasn’t the question being asked: Who would she work for? Who would her labours of passion and sorcery belong to? Who would profit from her genius? And in turn, who would suffer for it? That feeling of distrust and dispassionate uncomfort was upon her again, the same one that overtook her in the final months before tragedy struck, in the moments where Croix would badger her about contracts and interviews. And now she stood here, after a long and winding journey fraught with peril, blood, and frayed emotions. <em> “What was it all for?” </em>The question sounded in her mind not against her will, but inexplicably still. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze blinked blinked slowly, achingly so, her eyes shifting from Amanda’s sore and pained form up to the sable armored shape of her tormentor. In the midst of that fleeting half second, between the darkness that came with the closing of her eyelids, and the return of light as she opened them again, she thought deeply on the journey that had brought herself and her newfound sister here. <em> “To think….” </em> She began, but the words escaped even her mind’s own mouth. <em> “Schwester.” </em> The word had become second nature to speak now, in regard to Amanda, but to imagine such a thing merely a month ago? <em> “Strange….” </em> But comforting all at once. <em> “Been through a lot before that. Been through after.” </em> Her eyes drifted up past Nikolai, up toward the aerial war. <em> “And we’ll be through a lot more before we’re done today.” </em> The sight of strange witches, not in the sense of aesthetic and sense, though some did dress rather queerly, but in the sense of familiarity. <em> “Couldn’t name more than a dozen of them.” </em> If that. <em> “Not just from England. Or France.” </em> But from all over the world. <em> “Not a lot…. Few hundred strong.” </em> But that was more than most covens could say of their membership. <em> “All coming together to fight against </em> — <em> ” </em>Constanze caught Nikolai as he began to turn his eyes upon them, and only now did she truly take in the fullness of his being:</p><p> </p><p>The paleness of his face. The unkemptness of his hair juxtaposed by a careful level of care given to its health. The flowing cape on his armor, and the selfsame regalness that tinted his midnight armaments. The stoic, but undeniably haughty posture with which he stood. The air of arrogance, malice, and death all about him. His words too spoke to conquest, to the triumph of betters over lessers, to extermination. And yet it was nothing new, just an intensified reflection of every other vampire they’d slain or seen that night. <em> “ </em> — <em> Against these monsters.” </em> Constanze’s knuckles tightened. <em> “They’ll be all that’s left if they get what they want.” </em> She didn’t even know how deathly true her conclusion was. <em> “Gott gab mir meinen Arsch.” </em>But she knew all too well how important it was to prove this son of a bitch dead wrong. </p><p> </p><p>“Well?!” Time ‘resumed’ its normal pace, so to speak. “I’m waiting!” Nikolai standing tall, just as before, and the wound in his chest, right below his heart, had only then begun to heal in full. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze let her head drop as she helped Amanda to her feet. “How would you fix anything.” </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai blinked, insensed. “What?”</p><p> </p><p>“Beantworte meine verdammte Frage.” Roughly meaning: <em> “Answer my fucking question.” </em> Said with all the viperous intent one would expect from a woman scorned so. “How could monsters like you fix anything wrong with the world.” Constanze’s determined yet hateful expression became clear again as Amanda steadied herself, allowing Constanze to stand just as tall and proudly as Nikolai. “What purpose would rulers like you serve. What makes you any different than the systems already in power. What about your massive castles and your priceless belongings makes you any less obsessed with money.” She stepped forward, her wand held out toward him, and the other held up at about shoulder height, gathering metal magicks in her palm as a radiant ball of silver and gold. “What does a vampire like you know about doing anything for anyone else?” It was the only question which she phrased as such, but only because it was the only one she didn’t feel confident in the answer to.</p><p> </p><p>In response, immediately at least, Nikolai could only purse his lips, and arch his brow. He chewed on the questions like he might chew on the savoring meats of cooked lamb. “How childish of you,” Ultimately, his only response was to spit it out in disgust. “To think that the task of ruling demands any amount of generosity.” He seemed almost insulted to have even been questioned in the first place, despite having literally asked for it. “Kindness is not the way nations are kept strong. Wars are not fought with compassion.” He took one final look at Dyrnwyn and wrinkled his nose, dissatisfied. “Man is a violent race of beasts who must be tempered as such,” Then he tossed it at the feet of the sisters, convinced it to be nothing more than a fanciful reconstruction of the burning blade, and strode over to dislodge his own sword from the pillar. “And I am no exception.” The terrible cracking and screeching of steel on stone sounded as Nikolai ripped his blade from the pillar as a woodsman might rip an arrow from their kill. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze hardened her heart for the conflict to come as she mustered a rebuttal in her head, but Amanda beat her to it: “Last I checked the history books….” She wagged Carnwennan up like a knowing finger as she huffed and puffed, bringing Dyrnwyn to bear quietly in turn. “All the places that tried to beat their people into submission ended up falling apart at those folks’ hands.” It didn’t take a historian to tell you that; hell Amanda could have been illiterate and known it. “But you know what, since you like goin’ on so much about how great you are...” And because Amanda still kinda needed to catch her breath from a nearly crushed windpipe. “Why don’t you tell us just how this monarchy bullshit of yours would work.”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze blinked, surprised. “Mmm?” She couldn’t believe it: Amanda was actually <em> asking </em> for Nikolai to talk more! <em> “You serious?” </em> And Constanze <em> really </em> wished she hadn’t. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai chortled. “Hmmph!” And decided that he would live up to the image Amanda and Constanze had conjured up of him in their minds, “Very well,” In the <em> worst way possible </em> . “Then I should hope you are skilled enough to hear me in full.” He was going to sword fight <em> and </em> ramble at them; lovely. “For I have <em> quite a few </em> words for you, hunters….” He spun his sword around to the left, and then the right, and finally resumed a pointed high guard position before grinning like the demon he was. <em> “En garde.” </em>He mouthed the worst just before bolting forward, the wind whistling with his passing. </p><p> </p><p>Fast he was, the witches were ready for him. His charging stab, Amanda dodged. His following swipe to the left, Constanze blocked with her free hand after coating it in a layer of metal. “This world—!” She made to cast a spell with her wand, but he was on the move again in the next instant, engaging both sisters in another flurry of blows. “—Must be humbled!” Amanda blocked high and jabbed low with Carnwennan, only to block on her left with Dyrnwyn in the same motion. Before her knife could even jab into his hip, he was making a swing at Constanze, who dodged back from his low diagonal cut. Then Carnwennan cut true, slicing into one of the weakest points in his armor, cutting away no small bit of flesh. “Tch! And it will be made to kneel—!” And yet all it did was interrupt his speech. “Through our newfound power!” He dashed through the two then, and made a wide sweep at them from behind. Amanda caught sight of it quickly and managed to leap forward into a deft roll, but Constanze was just a bit too slow and earned a nasty gash along her back for it. Wordlessly, she stumbled forward, her mouth wide as a silent scream escaped her one moment, and left her the next, her teeth biting down hard on her lips. She whipped around and fired off her prepared spell in retaliation; a freezing ray cast to the ground, causing great spikes of ice to coalesce from the dew and sprout upward like spears from the earth. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai jumped back, his cape flowing in the twilight winds of war, and landed gracefully, low to the ground in a crouch. “Power rightfully taken…” He glanced down at his unbleeding wound, watching it mend. “From the bodies of your own captured compatriots.”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda was initially preoccupied with Constanze, but the German witch waved her off as she unbottled a curative flask and poured it haphazardly on her own back. It nearly staunched the bleeding wholesale, but it stung like a bitch, and was nowhere near as potent as any form of vampiric regeneration, to say nothing of the hunters’ limited supply. “So that’s why you’ve been kidnapping instead of killing, huh!?” That left Amanda to take the wheel as far as counterarguments went. </p><p> </p><p>“Indeed!” Nikolai sharply rose. “Though, I’ll admit, it wasn’t my idea.” He looked on high to the castle-blimp just barely peeking through the clouds. “I doubted her at first, my queen and mother, but now! Now I see why we have taken them!” He turned his chin back down suddenly, just as suddenly as he resumed his assault. “For it will grant us—!” Amanda met him in stride.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Clang! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“—POWER OVERWHELMING!” Thunder roared. Lightning flashed. A twinkle of bright light sprang from the three crossed blades, just before the two swordsmen opened up on each other furiously. </p><p> </p><p>“What kinda power—!?” Amanda flashed Dyrnwyn from below and cut from on high with Carnwennan. Nikolai blocked the low blow with his own sword, and stopped the shadowblade with a raised gauntlet. “—Are you gonna get—!?” A raised boot and a bit of silent wind magic to the gut sent Nikolai skidding back in the muddied dirt. “From fucking KIDS!?” </p><p> </p><p>Two clean lines in the grass were made, one for each of Nikolai’s deeply dug greaves. “Their age means nothing!’ He roared and charged again, his blade drawn in, and his right elbow pointed out. Amanda’s eyes widened and then disappeared in a puff of black smoke, just as Nikolai made a <em> wide </em> cut. “It’s your foul magic—” Her trick had grown old to him though, and so Nikolai kept his momentum going, twisting his hip to turn right and slash down on Amanda’s head. “—That will let us ascend!” Amanda blocked the killing stroke with an X; her wrists and arms buckled under the strength of the blow as sweat dripped down her face. For mercy, Constanze had recovered.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Electra Magnera!” </em>Nikolai’s blade shuddered and defied him, but not for long. He was even quicker to catch and dispel it on the return now that he knew what it meant, though this hardly mattered. He was still left wide open, and Amanda made sure to take advantage.</p><p> </p><p>She brought the twin ivories down with a cry, making two deep cuts along Nikolai’s chest in an X shape, ones dangerously close to his heart, but more importantly, ones that sundered his armor even further. He was spared the stab with both blades meant to follow it up with a masterful twirl to the right, and a blurring dash to make distance. He came to a halt in the shadow of the courtyard's statue, his face marked by the slightest hint of pain, and the much greater hint of amusement; things were getting good. “We consider it a <em> small </em> price to pay! A sacrifice in the name of world peace that <em> surely </em> you are willing to make!” He held his chest, feeling for any warm fluids, but found none, allowing him to once again pay no mind, all too confident in his superhuman powers, even as he cast aside the jagged and ruined plates of armor about his chest. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze furrowed her brow, <em> “World peace….” </em> And drew her hammer while Amanda spoke. “I’d ask who gave you the right,” The Witch Smith tapped the tip of it with her wand, conjuring forth more telekinetic magicks to ensorcle it. “But I know what you’re going to say.” Amanda slowly approached Nikolai, her blades ready. “So why don’t you tell us how the fuck that’s supposed to justify you ruling jack-shit?”</p><p> </p><p>The final chunk of ruined armor was cast from Nikolai’s chest with abandon, “This transformation, this ritual! It will grant us the powers of the angels themselves!” Leaving the section from his collarbone down to his right breast partly exposed, covered only by cut-up patches of plain clothes. “Instant travel to lands far and away from here! The ability to kill with a single look! Powers of persuasion yet unseen! A form even more undying than our nigh invincible bodies!” Both sisters felt something catch in their breath as his words reached their ears. They knew all too well what this “ritual” would bring about. “And that is only the <em> beginning </em> of the boons we will receive!”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze grunted, unamused. “Mmm.” She set aside her worries about the ritual as her hammer took flight, though she stayed her invisible hand for now. “Pretty broad definition of ‘nigh invincible.’” She taunted humorlessly. </p><p> </p><p>Luckily, Nikolai’s ego could make up for Constanze’s stoicism tenfold when he returned the taunt. “And yet I stand before you, virtually unharmed,” He puffed out his chest and chortled. “So tell me, is it your blades and aim that need honing, or are you simply no match for a being blessed such as I?” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze squinted hard. “Mm—” She started to growl unwittingly, but then her eye caught sight of something.  “—Ask him.” She gestured flippantly to the air, where one of Nikolai’s chosen met a gruesome end when a gnarly blast of pure shining magic shot from a Sister of Starfall’s staff blasted his body away as the two passed each other by in the air; his armor fell to the earth, the chestpiece shattered, and all else filled with ash.</p><p> </p><p>Nikolai grit his teeth, disgusted with the weakness on display, and rebuttled hastily. “It’s your knavish skill then? Good!” He snapped his neck back around, wrought with bestial fury, “Let me test it further!” And made to charge them down again, his sword thrusting forth like a lance. It was meant for Constanze, but all the blade found was the stone pillar behind her as she swooped away by way of her daggered gauntlet. Thinking he was again left open, Amanda teleported in close and went to remove his head from his shoulder, but got a facefull of shrapnel and rocks for her trouble when Nikolai violently wrested his sword from the pillar, toppling it in a cloud of smoke and debris as part of the upper edifice crumbled in. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze made a running landing as the sound of destroyed stone crashed in all around her. She looked over her shoulder to see nothing but the dust cloud, bringing her to a skidding halt. She bit her cheek and reeled her discarded hammer in with magic so that it was afloat once more. Her worst fears seemed realized when Nikolai was the first to exit the wreckage, coughing and partly blinded, but ranting confidently enough so as to be disquieting. “It is through this power that we—Hkhm…! Will reign!” He threw his cape back over his shoulder and shook off a thin layer of dust on his head and face so that he might look Constanze in her eyes. “World leaders will fall. Resistance will be crushed within minutes. And the laws of the land, the laws of our one and only God, shall be made the one and only set of laws to govern humanity.” </p><p> </p><p>“So what,” But a familiar voice eased Constanze’s already weary and tense spirit. “You bitch and moan about ‘corpse empires,’ only to say you’re gonna—Ahk! Kill everyone who doesn’t listen to your bullshit laws!?” Amanda stumbled out from the opposite side of the cloud, taking a wide path for space as she flailed and batted away at the cloud. She was just as dust addled as Nikolai, and her face was all scraped up and dirtied from the debris, but she was hardly bested. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai shot her a gross look. “Dissent will be stamped out as <em> we </em> see fit!”</p><p> </p><p>Amanda wiped her face with her sleeve. “Hkhm! Sounds like your societies gonna be more corpsed up than ours!” </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai scoffed again. “No revolution is without death!” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda threw her arms wide in disbelief. “You call taking us back to the dark ages a revolution!?” </p><p> </p><p>“Need I recite a dictionary for you?” The vampire lord drolly rolled his jaw from left to right.</p><p> </p><p>Amanda leaned in, her frustration deepening. “I don’t care what a dictionary has to say! I care about what you creeps winning actually means for people!” </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai leaned in and shouted back even louder. “It means that their lives will be well spent, and their souls saved!”</p><p> </p><p>Constanze jumped in, just as furious, and just as loud. “It means you’ll be the kings and queens of a dead rock!” Then silence took hold in the air, each of them breathed heavily. “Your plan won’t work. Kill all of the world leaders you like. It won’t matter.” Constanze sweeped her right arm wide, cutting the air. “The world has changed. Humanity has changed. We can’t go back. We <em> won’t </em> go back.” She stepped forward ruefully. “Your monarchy isn’t ready to rule the world, and it never will be. It’s bigger than you ever will be, more complicated than you’ll ever know.”  Her boots left deep imprints into the cold earth. “Delusional. You’re delusional if you think you can manage everything from cities to towns and villages across <em> every single continent </em> .” And the length of her floating hammers chain dragged its own faint imprint across the threshold as Constanze plodded forward. “You’d be delusional even if you just wanted England. Or Hungary. Or anywhere. Doesn’t matter. <em> The world doesn’t work like that anymore </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>Step by step, inch by inch, she drew closer to Nikolai. “Even if you become as strong as you say, no, <em> especially </em> if you become that powerful, you’ll be wiped out in a week.” Nikolai could only watch as she did so. He was stunned by such bold-faced, unrepentant, and pure zeal. So too was he stunned by his own anger, his wounded pride, to be attacked so. “You and everyone unlucky enough to get caught in the crossfire.” Or blast radius, should the nations take a more <em> drastic </em> but <em> thorough </em> approach. “Either you’ll die, or there won’t be a world left for you to rule over.” A tear or two welled in the corners of her eyes, “If your reign was supposed to start with Ludinghal, then it’s going to <em> end </em> like Ludinghal.” But they quickly retreated as rage triumphed over sorrow.  “Everyone dead…. Everything ruined….” Constanze sharply inhaled composure through her nose, “You're pathetic.” And exhaled hate through mouth. “And so are your delusions. Delusions that should have died hundreds of years ago when the world moved on from monsters like you, but no.”</p><p> </p><p>A long, heavy three breathes interrupted her. “You couldn’t accept having to give anything back to the people you enslaved. You couldn’t accept being wrong. Couldn’t accept being held accountable. Being human.” Her mind, now awash in rage, could not stop her inexorable advance. “So you became parasites. Literal parasites….” The iron taste of blood tinged her tongue; her throat stung with bile. “And then you hid behind whatever was convenient to justify yourselves. Divine right. Physical superiority. Self importance.” It rose into her mouth, forcing her to gasp and heave. “<em> Widerlich…. </em> ” The word escaped her lips in a hissed whisper. Nikolai bristled at it: <em> “Disgusting….” </em> </p><p> </p><p>She stopped only ten feet from her nemesis and straightened out her hunched over posture, her eyes unwittingly aflame, sparking ever so faintly with a bright blue fire. “Maybe we replaced you with different monsters. Maybe the world is broken like you say. Maybe we’re all doomed.” She pointed her wand and floating hammer toward Nikolai’s face as their gazes met. “But no matter how many lives you ruin, you’ll never be able to dig yourself out of the past and back into relevance.” Nikolai’s right eye twitched. His knuckles tightened. “And no matter how powerful your verdammt clan becomes, it’ll never be anything more than a pervertiert group of dried up <em> leeches </em> who would rather <em> eat people </em> than face the god they claim to love and serve so much.” Veins pulsed and tensed for the first time in centuries. Was that a heartbeat in Nikolai’s chest? “In short: Your plans aren’t just cruel. They aren’t just insane. They’re <em> obsolete. </em>” </p><p> </p><p>Deafening silence. The battle raged overhead. The wind blew as it always did. The ashen magic drifted along calmly. The three fighters remained motionless, relatively speaking. Their chests rose and fell. Nikolai’s brow kneaded itself. Feet shifted ever so slight. But none of them moved from their places, much like living statues, picturesque, almost renaissance like with their—</p><p>Amanda whistled flatly. “Damn.” She looked more shocked than anything; genuinely bewildered even. “Didn’t think you had that in ya, sis.” And so the picturesque moment was gone. </p><p> </p><p>“Von Braunschbank….” The name came as a low guttural growl, one ladden with a wrath unheard, a vengeance unending, a horror inhumane. It snapped Constanze’s mind away from its own rage stricken focus, allowing her to realize <em>just how close</em> she was to a <em>very deadly</em> and <em>very angry </em>vampire lord. “<em>Braunschbank….</em>” His face, one partly shadowed by the twilight of morn, twisted up and to one side, affording Constanze and Amanda the <em>dreadful</em> clarity of his emotions: He had been twisted by abject hate, no sickness, no madness, no—! There is no singular word that could be summoned to describe him! <b><em>“Von Braunschbank….”</em></b> From a growl to a gurgle. From a gurgle to a hiss. From a hiss to a roar. <b><em>“VON BRAUNSCHBAAAAAANK!”</em></b> Knights and witches, The Twin Fates included, felt a wave of instinctual fear run down their spines; a jumpscare to interrupt the lowest of skirmishes above for precious, precious seconds. </p><p> </p><p>One thought crossed Constanze’s mind: Run. But only one sight filled her eyes: A fist rocketing toward her gut. Then everything stung, her stomach felt like it was in her throat, and the world was spinning. Constanze had been sent flying back by a singular blow; the proverbial bell to restart the paused battle, beginning a new round of carnage. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai bolted forth in pursuit of his tumbling and rolling prey, his blade dragging behind him like a rebar-club in the sand, leaving messy and deep cuts in the earth. He flashed it up high and took it both hands as Constanze’s body rolled to a halt, and brought it down hard to cut her in twain, but a burst of black smoke and the resounding clang of metal denied him yet again. Burning eyes, green in color, but bright red and pink in truth, met his wild stare through the blackness. <b> <em>“OUT—!” </em> </b> Three lightning fast strikes were met by the twin ivories as Carnwennan’s smoke began to settle. <b> <em>“—OF MY WAY!” </em> </b></p><p> </p><p>“CONZ! RUN!” </p><p> </p><p>A thunderous overhead blow struck in sync with the storm above; Amanda’s arms quaked, her blades shook, the pressure was <em> immense. </em> A flash of lightning illuminated Nikolai’s face. Death and madness; that was all to be found in his expression. Death and madness born of an ego edifice as fragile as a card-castle, as sharp as glass rose bushes, as all consuming as the infinite shadows of night.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He had asked for this, he wanted to be challenged, but never had he encountered a being, a mortal no less, so furious, brave, and or foolhardy to attack him with such naked disgust! He had met many impudent peasants. He had killed them all. He had crossed swords with rival lords. Their heads rolled nicely. And he had argued with a small handful of “eminent” minds from time to time. None of them could dislodge his devotion. But now a woman only a few years over her second decade had stabbed at his soul with words alone, and in the wound she roused something Nikolai thought himself immune to: Doubt.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Constanze squirmed away, dragged her hammer and body along while clawing at the ground. She tried to get on her knees but Nine above and below did it <em> hurt </em>. What was it? Everything. Everything remotely near the center of her body throbbed with pain. She dragged herself away as Amanda kept Nikolai’s bestial strikes at bay, her mind racing with a thousand different thoughts, most of which were about how much pain she was in, and the rest being fruitless ideas about how to not die, or do anything for that matter, in this terrible situation. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Was it the logic Constanze used that sowed the seed of doubt? No, not necessarily. Of all things, logic was the least of Nikolai’s concern, especially coming from “heretics.”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Over and over, again and again. Nikolai was physically pushing Amanda back with every swing of his sword. His strikes were slower and more powerful, inexorable and plodding like a boulder’s descent down a steep hill. Amanda saw openings, dozens of them! At any point, she could make a stab at him, but never at the places she really needed or wanted: The head and heart, and any of the other places she could strike at were just too dangerous! One wrong move of her feet or one erring twitch of the wrist and her guard would be broken! Worst of all, just by the aching in her wrists, forearms and all, Amanda knew in a deeply primal way that it would take only one solid hit from Nikolai’s blade to leave her nigh unrecognizable.  </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Was it the attacks on his person? His being? Not quite. The references to parasitism and insanity dug deep when coming from a Von Braunschbank, if only because he had a more invested hatred of them compared to The Fates. But ultimately, that too was just an annoyance really, something he had mostly dulled himself too in his fanatical state of mind.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Amanda held her ground for dear life, that of her own and Constanze’s as the latter sputtered to all fours and finally to her feet. Amanda evaded and blocked everything she could: A series of repetitive back and forth slashes aimed down and across her body, stabs and punches at her face and chest, backhanded bashed and blunt blows from Nikolai’s pommel. She raised her blades and caught many, or blinked away to one side with Carnwennan just in time, only to be immediately met by yet another attempt on her life. Attempts that got closer and closer to actually succeeding. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The notion that the Bathory clan might fail? Was that it then? Again, no, not entirely…. Doubts about that had crossed his mind before, but that wasn’t the kind of doubt that plagued him now. Ultimately, those concerns were more centered around the inherent obscurity of this brave new world he found himself in as both a relic of a bygone age, and a so called agent of change. Surely God would light the path for him and his own when the time came, right?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>But Amanda would be damned if she didn’t keep on fighting regardless, knowing well that she was being out dueled here. The crimson and purple barrier mocked her, and did little to obscure Nikolai’s ghoulish visage. Had she but a singular chance at an offensive spell, or any genuine freedom with her witchery, then Amanda was certain that she and her sister could have had this bastard bagged and tagged long before things got this tense. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Then all that left was the accusation: Hypocrisy. Hypocrisy and non-belief in the very things he claimed to fight and kill for; God, some sense of salvation and justice, law and order. The idea that he might be no better than a serial murderer out to impress his mother, all while fooling himself into some sense of divine purpose.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>So too was Constanze certain of that fact as she spun about and began to backpedal. Her clouded mind summoned forth a barrage of basic arcane spells, Murowas and things adjacent, but every single one of her bolts fizzled upon getting close to their targets, just as the earlier ones had. It seemed hopeless. <em> “Think!” </em> She cried to herself as her body froze up. <em> “THINK!” </em> The shield had to have some sort of weakness! There had to be a logic to it!</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> That notion could not be allowed to exist without being met by a harsh rebuke.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>A singular strike, from below and to the right, slashing up across Amanda’s form, and charged with immeasurable disdain, collided with the Twin Ivories. <b> <em>“PERISH!”</em> </b> Immediately upon clashing, shards of metal were scattered to the twilight winds of morning. Amanda stumbled back, her arms covering her face instinctively, while Nikolai simply stood there, inhaling air, and exhaling anger. His eyes slowly drifted down to his sword; it was in pieces, ruined from about three inches beyond the hilt his wrath was simply too great for any mundane metals to contain. Amanda looked at her swords in turn and found the opposite to be true: They were neither broken nor worn, eternally sharp and stalwart against such reckless hate. <b> <em>“So that sword of yours isn’t a replica….” </em> </b> While capable of speech, his tone had devolved into guttural growling; understandable, but unsettlingly so. <b> <em>“And yet it doesn’t spark like it used to.”</em> </b> Amanda’s eyes widened and focused on Nikolai: He was staring right at her, hunched over and trembling with frenetic, murderous intent. Amanda breathed sharply, intensely, having damn near forgotten to in the midst of that furious exchange. <b> <em>“How fitting,”</em> </b> Nikolai straightened his back out, towering over both witches. <b> <em>“That your blade be as cold and dead as your wretched Balefire.”</em> </b> He cast aside his own ruined sword and rolled his neck; it gave off a sickening crack. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda’s fists tensed. “And your stupid clan is about to be as busted up and broken as yours!” A less than confident clap-back, and a petty attempt at saving face against her own doubt. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai snarled. <b> <em>“I don’t need my sword to strike you down.” </em> </b> He raised his claws up, palms out, and took on a hunched posture. He opened his mouth wide and let loose a screeching howl as he charged forward like a man possessed. <b> <em>“SHRRRAAAAAA!”</em> </b> Amanda met him head on, Dyrnwyn lancing out to gore him in the chest, overconfident in Nikolai’s own overconfidence to her own immediate regret. He was moving faster now, and more savagely, having sidestepped the stab with ease whilst swiping up hard on Amanda’s side. A scream of pain got caught in her throat as she staggered away and fell into the forced rhythm of retreat against Nikolai’s bestial assault.  He swiped and he slashed and he stabbed and he snapped, truly he was a mad dog now in the full sense of the word, and Amanda just couldn’t pin him down for it. This wasn’t a sword fight anymore, and all of the rules therein flew out the window. Now in deep pain, bleeding from the side, a nasty hole torn into her coat, Amanda could only strike ineffectively at Nikolai’s body, leaving more pointless gashes that scarred over in mere moments. </p><p> </p><p>All the while, Constanze fired dart after dart of arcane energy, all in a desperate bid to try and make sense of that damnable shield. <em> “Should have overloaded by now!” </em> And yet reason seemed to be working against her, for every bolt faded into nothing. <em> “There has to be a limit!” </em> But none seemed obvious. Another flick of the wand, another cast of Murowa, another failed attempt, and Amanda was only going to get more tired. <em> “Verdammt it all! How is anything supposed to get past </em> — <em> ” </em> Carnwennan stabbed deep into Nikolai’s shoulder, faltering him, but only for a moment; their dance of death continued. <em> “Wait….” </em> Constanze captured the image of the embedded shadowblade with her mind’s eye; the shadows remained, the magic persisted. <em> “But the spells….” </em> Everything magical faded on contact, save objects flung by magical means. <em> “So that means </em> — <em> ” </em> It was so simple, and yet she hadn’t even considered it until now. “AMANDA!” Constanze called out. “CAST INSIDE OF HIS SHIELD!” </p><p> </p><p>The words hit Amanda’s ears just as Nikolai lept at her like a pouncing lion. <b> <em>“HYYYYAAAGH!” </em> </b>The two were knocked to the ground, tumbling along with Nikolai ending up on top. Amanda tried to make a stab at him, but she found her arms pinned all too quickly. Left with no other options, Amanda heeded the words of her sister: She took a deep breath and prepared a spell on the tip of her tongue.Then, without an ounce of hesitation, Nikolai reared his head back before lurching it forward to rip Amanda’s neck apart.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “INFERNA!”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He got a mouthful of arcane fire instead. </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai shot up in a panic and clawed at his own face. <b> <em>“GAAAAAAHAAAGH!”</em> </b> Amanda had set him alight with a blown stream of flame from her lips! It engulfed his face, took to light on his hair, and started singing away the pinned ends of his crimson and black cape. Nikolai screamed and hissed and howled; words were being said, but it was all nonsense amidst true, genuine pain, pain like he’d never experienced, not even in life. The fire stuck to him like nothing else, both ethereal and unwavering, no matter how much he tried to put it out. He stumbled back as Amanda shakily stood up and Constanze came to aid her. The two put one arm over the other until they were each steadied and watched as Nikolai flailed about in a mad dance, one that sadly did not end with his death. Just as Amanda and Constanze both gave each other a silent nod in agreement, the go ahead to finish this once and for all, Nikolai put his metal hand to his face and activated the mechanism. Amanda and Constanze instinctively raised their arms up to shield their eyes from the flash. When they realized what that meant, they hesitated for an extra second before lowering it, fearing for what they might see, and indeed, their fears were proven true.</p><p> </p><p>Nikolai slowly let the metal hand covering his now burnt visage drift away, revealing the terrible damage done. His face was ruined, in the most literal sense of the word.  He looked… <em> wet </em> , no, <em> shiny </em> , as if a new, unfinished layer of skin had been revealed. The flesh was there, but it was discoloured in the worst way possible. Black spots mixed with gag inducing greens and reds; the signs of scabbing let on by his vampiric bodies failed attempts at healing the damage. Worse yet, there were <em> holes </em> in the left cheek, made so by his own armored hands in the midst of his panicked attempts at putting the fire out; he had lost control of his own strength, and the flames did the work of cauterizing all that he sundered. His lips and nose were particularly grizzly sights as well, reduced down in size into uneven and malformed shapes, the lips and sides of the nostrils partly melted. Bits of bone were visible across his head, and his hair had been all but entirely shaven off, but the true terror to be found in the desecration of his form lay in his eyes; those damnably hateful eyes. Constanze and Amanda had been unsettled by them before, by sheer weight of his eerie expressiveness, but now his face was frozen, ironically enough, into one singular expression. The eyelids were melted in such a way that they could not properly close or open. The eyes themselves were flared, tinged red, and the irises clouded; the left was permanently shut half way, stuck in a sort of sleepy looking squint, and the right was wide, <em> wide </em> open. <b> <em>“Hrrrrghh…. Ahurghhh….”</em> </b> Like a zombie, he seemed only capable of gurgling and wheezing. <b>  </b></p><p> </p><p>Amanda took a step back, “Jesus wept….” Before she took two more steps forward, swords raised. “What the fuck does it take to kill you!?”</p><p> </p><p>But then Amanda had to open her big mouth and give Nikolai a reason to say anything. <b> <em>“More…” </em> </b> He shambled forward a half step before freezing up in brief agony. <b> <em>“Hghk!” </em> </b> Every motion was a tutoring in torment, every stubborn second he spent persisting, a lesson in pain. <b> <em>“Then you will ever have….” </em> </b>And to Nikolai, these were all God sent teachings, a final challenge before absolution at the hour of divine reckoning. Thus did he advance, slowly at first, but surely enough, he was gaining speed, as if learning how to walk and kill all over again. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze cursed to herself, “Schwester,” And spoke hurriedly, knowing time to be as fleeting as their foe’s patience. “Follow my lead.” She gave Amanda a sidelong nod, one the two understood well enough, only for her eyes to refocus on Nikolai as a horrible purple light filled her eyes. “Scheiße!” </p><p> </p><p>“Duck!” Or dodge, rather, which is what Amanda and Constanze did, the latter by way of chain and grapple, and the former by way of Carnwennan. The grim fate they avoided was the same fate they nearly fell to on the roof; necrotized grass and dirt flew away in the breeze as ash, what stonework was struck by the explosion eroded, and a faint malaise of death lingered in the now stale air. Both sisters looked on, breathing heavily, as the weighty realization sank into their guts: Whatever twisted pretense of an “honourable duel” Nikolai had at the start of this affair had been well and truly dropped with but a single shot from his mechanized gauntlet. </p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“I… have had… enough!” </em> </b> Nikolai continued to approach, but rather than split his focus, his war path was clearly set on a collision course with Constanze. <b> <em>“I have had enough of your magic,” </em> </b> He said just as Constanze tried to impale him with more conjured icicles, ones he dodged, albeit less cleanly than before. <b> <em>“I have had enough—”</em> </b> Amanda was upon him in the next moment. She appeared from a puff of smoke, propelled forward by wind magicks, with Dyrnwyn aimed at Nikolai’s chest. Nikolai tried to side step this as well, but again, his senses were starting to fail him. The burning blade, cold as it currently was, had been plunged deep into Nikolai’s right shoulder as Amanda’s boots collided with his chest. He slid backwards, his heels digging into the dirt, but he did not fall. <b> <em>“—of your amateurish swordplay,” </em> </b> Amanda didn’t even have a chance to think about going for a stab with Carnwennan before Nikolai had clocked her in the face, earning her possibly the worst black eye of her life, and an undoubtedly cracked cheekbone. The blow sent her flying, and she hit the ground in a backward somersault; she had been laid out flat. <b> <em>“And I am tired….” </em> </b> Constanze retaliated with a hammerblow meant for Nikolai’s scorched face, sent forth by telekinetic magicks. This time though, when he went to grab it, he didn’t miss. <b> <em>“Of your unearned confidence!” </em> </b>A harsh yank pulled Constanze off of her feet and into the cold dirt. She tried to collect herself quickly enough to call it back, but Nikolai was having none of it. He pulled Dyrnwyn from his chest with his mechanical hand and used it to sever the chain with one fell swoop. From there he let the hammer drop, only to crush it underneath his boot. The hammer head itself remained intact, but the handle was broken into splinters. </p><p> </p><p>The Witch Smith bristled; her heart flared. The two looked at each other deeply, ruefully. Constanze’s newfound sense of familial honour and her nightmarish hatred for Nikolai told her to lash out for this slight, but for once, a drawn out fight like this had been a blessing. She had grown somewhat accustomed to Nikolai, in a strange sense, for by speaking her mind on what she believed to be his nature, she came to realize that Nikolai was more pathetic than he was detestable. He was both worthy and unworthy of her hate, but with every passing moment she saw her hatred wane, saw it be replaced by an even greater desire to simply be done with this man, this monstrosity, and move on to better things.  Inversely, she could see all too clearly that his hatred was only growing for her like a mold might grow on a corpse; rotting, festering, cannibalizing its own being. <em> “Now I get it….” </em> Constanze put one knuckle to the dirt and pushed herself to one knee. <em> “I know why you warned me, Vater. ” </em> She raised her head to the sky briefly. <em> “I know why you were afraid, Sucy.” </em> Her love was up there, somewhere, up in the hellish battle above. Nine willing, they would not be apart for long, one way or the other. <em> “Danke.” </em>She leveled her eyes, for hopefully the final time, on Nikolai, her expression as firm and stoic as she always liked it to be. </p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“You have no right to look upon me with such assurity!” </em> </b> Nikolai waved Dyrnwyn wildly in her direction. <b> <em>“You should be cowering before me like the worms you are!” </em> </b> He resumed his approach with Dyrnwyn in hand, it's safety sheathe remaining intact. <b> <em>“No! You should be HONOURED—!” </em> </b> He shunted forward, slamming Dyrnwyn down. <b> <em>“To die at my hands!” </em> </b>Constanze snapped to her feet in the knick of time and hopped backward. She brought her wand to bear and began to parse the incants to a spell, only for Nikolai to raise his machine hand up as the crystal within began to glow. Two explosions of necrotic energies followed, leaving behind a harrowing cloud of disintegrating dust that blew away in the wind. Nikolai heaved and huffed, as if genuinely exhausted, and growled low and long when the glimmers of magic yet peaked through the smokey crater just before him. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze yet lived, but only by the grace of her warding spell; a shield of magic, a small dome held in front of her, absorbed the worst the bolts of decay had to offer. It was hardly a surefire defence though: The shield itself was decaying, as if being eaten away by invisible magical termites, and while Constanze began to counteract it by channelling even more magic into her wand, she knew all too well how this would go as Nikolai readied another blast. <em>“Schwester,”</em> She let her eyes wander to where Amanda was laying. The young hunter yet stirred, but she was in terrible, debilitating pain. <em>“I’m sorry.” </em>It didn’t seem like help was coming this time. Another bolt struck Constanze’s shield, and again it was flensed of its power, only for Constanze to push herself even harder to sure up its strength. And again a bolt hit her hard, and again she nearly buckled under the force of the blast. At this rate, her well of magic would run dry, and she would be at Nikolai’s mercy, or lack thereof. <em>“Can’t die like this.” </em>It wasn’t even a matter of avoiding death at this point, more a matter of dying without practical benefit. <em>“Need to get him close. Need to draw him in.” </em>She just needed one chance to get close to that mechanized hand of his; one fleeting moment of contact and she would ensure he’d have no chance of winning the day. <em>“But how?” </em>The question rang in her mind as another blast rang in her ears. Every explosion of necromantic power was silent, strangely, or rather, it possessed a non-sound, or maybe the very nature of the magic itself was eating away at all other sounds. Regardless of reasoning, it left her ears ringing hollow. </p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“Give up already, Von Braunschbank!” </em> </b> Nikolai bellowed doggedly as he fired another shot into the smoky, purple and crimson haze. <b> <em>“We both know how this is going to end!” </em> </b></p><p> </p><p>And for once, Constanze was glad Nikolai talked so much: It gave her an idea. <em> “By my own hands….” </em> She repeated his pompous decree to herself quizzically, and then again aloud: “By your own hands!” Nikolai faltered, but only for a moment. What <em> could </em> be described as confusion wracked his burnt visage. “You said you’d kill us with your own hands!” Stiffly, she pointed at his mechanical appendage with spiteful eyes; the message was clear. “So do it! Do it or prove that everything I said about you was right!” Nikolai’s expression twisted monstrously; flakes of burnt skin fell from his cheek as disgust consumed him. Constanze forced back a half-cocked grin, the kind Amanda would have worn were she the one standing there: He’d taken the bait. “Come on!” She shouted loud and proud, near tauntingly, again calling on her sisters own tactics. “Prove you’re the man you say you are!” Constanze lowered the shield slowly, cautiously. “Oder lebe für immer mit dem Wissen, dass du ein Heuchler bist!” Only when Nikolai began to advance did she truly “let her guard down.” </p><p> </p><p>He shambled forward a few steps before coming to an abrupt halt and pointed Dyrnwyn toward her. <b> <em>“Your wand…. Away with it.” </em> </b>He wouldn’t be fooled twice. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmm.” Constanze tossed her wand aside, her eyes unwavering in their focus. </p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“Hmmph.”</em> </b> Nikolai cracked his ruined jaw one final time, preparing his fangs for what he expected to be the best drink of his unlife. He resumed his stride silently, approaching Constanze such that his shadow engulfed her much smaller form. As the darkness overcame her, she couldn’t help but gulp and sweat. But then he stopped again, just shy of arms reach, <b> <em>“Now tell me,” </em> </b> But <em> well </em> within sword’s length. <b> <em>“What did you hope to gain from this gambit…?” </em> </b> The wind was cut by Dyrnwyn; the cold steel stopped a mere centimeter from Constanze’s neck; she froze up. He’d seen through her after all. <b> <em>“Don’t bother answering. I know your kind is simply treacherous at your very core.” </em> </b> From the corner of her now wide eyes, she could see Amanda starting to rouse herself from her dazed half-slumber; she needed time. As much as Constanze could give. <b> <em>“So listen well, and take these final words with you into the lowest pits of Hell:” </em> </b>Panic started to set in; any wrong move and she was dead. But if she made no moves, she was dead as well. Her eyes darted everywhere, high, low, and all places in between. </p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“You know nothing of who I am, what I am,” </em> </b> Above them, the battle raged, the lightning cracked. <b> <em> “What I stand for, or what our rule means for this world.” </em> </b> Below them, the ground was ruined and deathly, <b> <em>“Your order has always said you stand and fight against injustice, but it knows nothing of the word,” </em> </b> But looking closely, she saw her hammers severed chain snaking out from her hip, along the dead grass, and in between Nikolai’s heavy metal sabatons. <b> <em>“And you less so…. You are but unwitting servants to the corpse empire that rots this world. You stand against the will of God, the will of rightful royalty, and offer no alternatives….” </em> </b> Amanda got to one knee in the background, stumbled, and then forced herself upright holding her bleeding head in one hand. <b> <em>“And how could you? There is no alternative! Mankind was designed to be ruled by its best!” </em> </b>  Constanze flexed her fingers; her hands were at her hip, mere inches from the chain-cord on her belt. <b> <em>“All your victory would have done here was return us to the status quo, the everyday decay that you fester and wallow in!”  </em> </b> Nikolai wound Dyrnwyn up for the killstroke. Constanze took a long, deep, and solemn breath, <b> <em>“So die, Von Braunschbank! Die knowing you were little more than a spawn of sin, and join the rest of your misbegotten lineage in the grave!” </em> </b>And with but one tap of her index finger, and a single word of power spoken, Constanze sent lightning through their bodies. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> KA-KRACKTHOOM! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The sensation was overpowering. The colors, the lights, the sounds, the smell, the taste; Nikolai’s mind and body was overpowered. Constanze felt it too, the prickling pins on her brain, the dancing bolts that burned the inside of her eyes, the waves of corusscating hurt that washed over her tongue and gut, but she persisted. She persisted on sheer willpower, her own arcane mastery, and the sharpened blade of hate that her heart would bear to strike these final few blows; the grip on her waist bound chain tightened. Dyrnwyn shook with Nikolai’s arm, frozen in a state of spasming tremors, and Constanze in turn trembled. Her eyes were alight with blue fires, her teeth were ground down hard, as were Nikolais, and together, the two reached for one another: Nikolai for the throat of his unyielding prey, and Constanze for that self same hand made of machine and magic. Their appendages locked with one another unevenly. Constanze laced her fingers in between the mechanical facsimiles of Nikolai’s own, and with all her might she surged with power. Lightning engulfed the cannon-hand and travelled fast up Nikolai’s arm. He howled and shrieked, but Constanze remained dead silent. </p><p> </p><p>She pushed through the screaming, past the sorrows, and carried on both by way of the memories she was burdened with, and with those same memories carried on her back. They were united together by a chain unbroken, inseparable and indistinguishable. There was pain, there was hopelessness, there was despair. Alienated from her family, disillusioned with the path laid before her, and then robbed of a chance to repair was broken.But there was also joy, inspiration, and actualization. She had come into her own as a witch, found herself accepted and protected among a new kind of family, and was just now finding their calling in the long lost legacy of her bloodline. On some days, she would fall, and on others, she would be forced to crawl, but in both cases, she could never claim to be alone, and unloved. Needless to say, she bore the burden of living well…. And she’d be damned if she let that burden go now. </p><p> </p><p>One final surge, one last push, one resounding cry to the heavens, and then a bang.</p><p> </p><p>Smoke filled the eastern half of the courtyard, purple and crimson and all wispy like. It billowed out quickly, silently, cancelling out sound as it went, and then fading into nothing as the necromantic energy, now unbound from its crystal and mechanisms, cannablized itself. Three bodies yet remained in the would-be arena, Amanda’s being the only one which was stood upright. She had come to mere moments before the electric exchange began, and barely had time to react when all was said and done. It went by in a mere ten seconds, and Amanda had only reached the halfway point between her and them by the time the explosion came. She coughed and hacked up a lung and a half as she took in air so stale it made thousand year old bread look fresh, and waved Carnwennan about flippantly as she conjured the winds to be rid of the smoke. </p><p> </p><p>Quickly enough, fresh air returned, and with it, the good sense to take in the battlefield: Constanze was laid out on her side to the north, and Nikolai on his back to the south. Amanda, still in a slight stupor, kept a steady amount of pressure on her forehead as she approached the two bodies. With but one eye to see out of, her left one being covered by and otherwise injured, she could clearly make out a mortal wound on Nikolai’s form: His left hand was nothing more than a messy stump of rust and wrought steel now, having imploded due to an intense overload of magic. It was hardly fatal, but he was barely even moving outside of the occasional twitch and convulsion. The human body, even when vampirically enhanced, had its limits. As she stumbled forward, Amanda turned her eye onto Constanze, and was oh so very relieved to see that her sister was alive; her chest rose and fell evenly. But all was not well: Her hands were badly burnt, and her left one especially so, but worse, it was bleeding heavily. Metal shards and decayed holes in the flesh pocked her palm and fingers; simply put, it wasn’t looking good. Panning her vision out so to speak, Amanda saw that the two were about five feet apart, with Dyrnwyn laid out somewhat in between them. Her feet kept moving, but her mind was awash in any number of ideas on what to do:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Get the sword. Finish it first.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “He’s done. Fuck him. Get Constanze.”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Get the sword. Then get Constanze.”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Just use Carnwennan! Kill him now!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> “Get Constanze and kill him if he </em> — <em> ” </em></p><p> </p><p>Her feet decided for her in the end. She fell to her knees in between Dyrnwyn and Constanze, keeping both in careful reach. “Conz….” She stuck Carnwennan back in its sheath and reached for her sister first, shaking her shoulder to try and gauge her consciousness. “Conz you with me…?” The Witch Smith’s body shuddered. She exhaled sharply, coldly, as if overcome by frost, but said no more. “Easy, easy.” Constanze grunted uneasily as she turned her head downward to catch a glimpse of Nikolai’s body. Amanda followed her sister’s gaze and replied. “Sit tight…. I’ll get ‘em.” She blinked away a brief bout of dizziness before she turned her head toward Dyrnwyn. Her hand drifted from the shoulder of her sister to the ivory hilt and took it up firmly. She got to one knee again and used Dyrnwyn as a support, stabbing it into the ground so that she might rise with ease. Just as she stood though, Nikolai made his final move:</p><p> </p><p>He lurched up from the ground with what strength remained in his now blasted body and flung himself forward. Landing on his chest, he gripped Dyrnwyn by its blade as Amanda recoiled in shock. He pulled on it hard, as hard as he could, digging the blade deep into his own palm, but caring not. He hissed and grunted, growled and frothed, and it just wasn’t enough; Amanda cut him loose. </p><p> </p><p><b> <em>“Gaahaaagh!”</em> </b> Armless but alive, Nikolai face planted into the cold dirt. <b>“Mrrrmmghm! Ahrmm!” </b> He writhed around, wormlike and weak, struggling just to lift his face from the bloody mud. <em> “Ahhhuuughh…!” </em>Little by little, he managed to roll himself onto his back. “Aaaahhhhh...! Hahahaaaargh...!” And in doing so, he revealed his cries to not be of pain, but of sorrow; he weeped. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda breathed steadily, slowly, and slower still with each passing moment. In removing his arm she had removed the hand from her head, revealing her bloody, pained visage. “That’s it.”  She sighed aloud. “You’re done.” And this time, she was right. </p><p> </p><p>“Schwester…?” Constanze’s voice travelled faintly through the war filled sound-scape. “Are you—?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine.” Amanda nodded to herself. “I’m fine….” She sheathed Dyrnwyn in full, her eyes cast down and away from the softly sobbing Nikolai; the sight was just a bit too much for her to linger on. Instead, she refocused on Constanze. “Come on, lemme get you…!” She bent down to pick Constanze up right when her vision started to go all spinny like. “Shit—!” The sisters were brought low by gravity, again. They coughed and groaned in shared annoyance. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm…!” Constanze glared at Amanda from their less-than-ideal resting spot on the ground. Amanda could only hold her face and shake her head in response. Constanze sighed deeply. <em> “So much for feeling fine.” </em>Standing up seemed like more trouble than it was worth right then and there, but Constanze also couldn’t help but catch glimpses of the fight above, and hear the frankly depressing moans of their defeated nemesis; something had to give. She rolled herself away from Amanda, onto her chest, and put her palms flat to the ground. Immediately she hissed loudly as the metal bits dug deep into her flesh, but fleeting pain was a price she’d pay any day. Up on her feet, she rubbed her eyes clear and centered herself before helping Amanda up in turn. Now on their feet, the sister witches dusted themselves off and quickly checked each other for wounds. They were both in need of aid, but nothing was killing them right away, so they had enough time to finish their business with the dying monster who laid before them. </p><p> </p><p>His cries and whimpers were surprisingly bone chilling. To see a man who wanted them dead and worse so deeply, so genuinely, in such a desperate and destitute state…. Neither witch were sure what to make of it. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda wiped sweat and blood from her brow. “Christ….” Even if Nikolai was a monster, seeing the human body and soul in such a state was unsettling for all. “Should we just—?”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t you dare touch me!” Nikolai cried and writhe, defiant and prideful unto the end. “I forbid it! God forbids it! He—! He—! This isn't—! There is no justice in this! No justice! NONE!” To call him manic would be mild. “No justice! No—! No sense! No—!” And to call this act of his a tantrum would too be an understatement. “Heavenly father! I beg you!” His words, now muffled by sobs and distorted by his ruined face, warbled out most unpleasantly. “Show yourself! Your son! Her holiness Mary! Mother of mercy! Someone! ANYONE!” The heavens did not part, nor did the trumpets blow to signal the breaking of the seventh seal. His delusions of an end of days where he and his clan served as the arbiters of heaven’s will slowly crashed down around him with the ashes of magic. “No…! No, it cannot end like this!” Amanda could only rub the back of her head and avert her gaze, while Constanze could only glare with a hint of emotionlessness. “S-Surely this is j-j-just a part of your… your plan! Yes! The lord works in mysterious ways! And, even though I may…. I may…. I….” Nikolai’s heavensward gaze, his ghoulish, burnt expression, it collapsed into despair before Constanze’s very eyes; a sight she would never forget. “Devil’s work….” Nikolai murmured to himself, his chin stuck in the dirt, his eyes frantically scanning every blade of cold grass in search of a sign. “This has to be the work of the Adversary…. Of all the devils of Hell!” Despair turned to fear and anger again, but a more mournful kind now. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze wrinkled her nose. “Only one devil here.” </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai upturned his ravaged skull and spoke. “You have… no right!” Had his tear ducts not been scoured by flame, his cheeks would be wet with them. “No right to call me a devil! Both of you—! You—!” His teeth chattered, and what remained of his lips and tongue smacked as he rambled on “You are whores of Satan! Hunters sent from the infernal plane! Yes! That is why you worship a fire! A fire to—! To consume this world and—!” A shiver ran along his spine. A nauseating feeling welled in his gut. “You’d doom us all… all of mankind… to a damned fate…. And for what?” An awkward silence followed. Nikolai coughed up a small bit of blood. “What greater purpose do you serve? What end do you strive toward?” His questioning needled at Amanda’s mind. She peaked at him from the periphery. “We were not enemies long…. But I have known warriors for far less time whilst coming to understand them.” He <em> sounded </em> defeated, but more so, he sounded human and genuine in a way he never had before. “But you two… no, all of you witches, both new and old…. I have never understood your causes, your motives, none of it!” Amanda could ignore him no longer. She turned and listened more intently alongside her sister.  “You heretics… you are an eclectic bunch. A strange and mysterious sort….” Any semblance of hate fell away into depressed resignation and annoyance at the universe for bringing him so low. “You hail from around the world, you follow esoteric and pagan gods so varied it’s useless even cataloging them, and you divide yourselves so strictly into cults and covens and…. Urgh…! It boils my blood!” He thrashed his head once in frustration. “What binds you witches!? You <em> heathens </em>!? You share nothing amongst each other! Nothing! Nothing save your use of foul magics, and your opposition toward US! Toward your BETTERS!” He spat spitefully, uselessly, and took a deep breath.  “So tell me now, before you kill me: Why would you resist what God has ordained?” </p><p> </p><p>Amanda pursed her lips. Words bounced around her head, words she’d always wanted to say in response to sentiments such as this, the kind not too distant from her own blood family’s politics. But the words she wanted to speak were all jumbled, and gods did her head <em> hurt. </em> “Already said it.” Constanze beat her to the punch anyway. “We’re against you and your clan. You hurt our loved ones. Threatened our way of life. Wanted us dead.” She folded her arms about her chest calmly, firmly. “We don’t need another reason.”</p><p> </p><p>“No! No! NO!” Nikolai pathetically tried to thrash himself upright, as if he could still fight without arms, but failed, as expected. “I refuse to believe it! I refuse to believe that I was bested by men who subscribed to the ideology of <em> children </em>! If that’s all that drives you mongrels then kill me now and let us be done with this! I will suffer this humiliation no more!” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze didn’t flinch. “I already told you why your bullschit plan wouldn’t work.”</p><p> </p><p>“Damn you, and your so-called ‘reasoning!’” </p><p> </p><p>“Get over yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine then! Let us say I…. Let us say that I am wrong!” A pure hypothetical in his mind of course, but dammit Nikolai wasn’t about to die without trying to prove some wretched point. “Perhaps none of what I spoke of would have come to pass! We would have failed! I would have failed!” He inched closer, speaking through grit teeth as he did so. “But if we don’t stop the decay of the human soul and society; if the empires of rot and greed are not toppled by the divine might of God’s chosen, then who!?” Had he arms with which to grasp, he would pull upon their pant legs. “Who will come to save us from ourselves!?” </p><p> </p><p> Silence followed, as much as the war would allow at least.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> As above, so below, they say; true and false. A lone actor, The Witch Clothed in Black, came to a sudden halt.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Constanze stood irreverent, Nikolai glared impetuously, and Amanda felt her hands tighten as the bouncing words fell into place. “Well!?” Nikolai bellowed. “Have you an answer…? Or am I truly cursed to die at infantile hands?” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze exhaled long and slow like, as if venting excess rage. She calmly and cooly turned her head toward her sister and gave a look that said more than her words could have at that moment: <em> “You’ve got something on your mind, don’t you?” </em> Amanda blinked. Constanze nodded. <em> “Say what you need to. I don’t mind.” </em> As much she hated the man asking these questions, she couldn’t deny both their relevance and their value. <em> “I have my own ideas. But I think you’ll speak better for both of us.” </em> A little gesture with her head gave Amanda the floor.</p><p> </p><p>“Right,” The American Hunter nodded and formed the weakest of smiles. “Thanks, Conz.” But a smile was a smile, no matter which way you sliced it.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you blubbering about? Have I not suffered—!?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Suffering; he knew nothing of that. Worse things were yet to come, but not for him, no…. A pressure was building in her chest.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Can it! I’m answering your damn question!” Nikolai simmered, groaned, and let his head fall flat against the dirt. Amanda supposed this was his way of “listening.” She sighed, wiped her now bloody, but now dry, forehead, and then took a deep, soul-searching breath. A moment came, and a moment went. It seemed absurd to even be spending such precious seconds arguing ideology, or explaining it, or whatever else. Hell, Amanda <em> hated </em> this sort of thing. She was a woman of action, not words, and the pen was <em> certainly </em> not mightier than a well wielded blade in her eyes.“Lemme get something straight first: You and your clan? You’re the worst kind of people. I’d have tried to get as many people as I could to kick your asses even if you weren’t ruining everything we’ve cared for….” And yet there, in the eye of the tornado of battling witches, Amanda could not doubt the power words held; the strength inherent to a cause, to a united purpose and driving ideology. “And not just because I hate pompous jackasses like yourself,” Amanda thumbed her chest. “But because I know that you’re no different from the other pompous jackasses in the world that <em> you </em> claim to be against.” Amanda furrowed her brow, tightened her fists. “You’ll do anything if it benefits yourself, and you’ll use whatever justification you can to get by while feeling like a hero.” </p><p> </p><p>“Get to the point.” Nikolai growled. “You do nothing but repeat what was already sa—”</p><p> </p><p>“No, no, no, it’s <em> more </em> than that!” Amanda cut him short. “So unless you wanna just get things over with, I suggest you shut up and listen for once!” Nikolai shifted awkwardly in place, not that he had much else to do. A weary sigh escaped him: He would endeavor to hear her in full. “Good.” Amanda found her place again quickly. “I ain’t just shit talking you because I get a kick out of it,” Which she <em> totally </em> did by the way. “I’m doing it because everything Conz said was true. And I know it's true, because I <em> came </em> from that life! I know how the ‘better’ half lives!” With each statement, her volume grew louder, her tone more confident. “And let me tell you: You’re both spot on and dead wrong.” Nikolai’s fire-scarred face contorted in confusion. He turned his blurry eyes upward. “They’re a bunch’a hollow, rotten, self serving sonsabitches! And if anyone’s gotten the world into the sorry state it’s in now, it's people like them!” She pointed off and away toward nothing in particular, as if her family, and all like them, were in ear shot. “But we ain’t digging ourselves out of this pit by going back to how things used to be!” </p><p> </p><p>“How then?” Asked Nikolai softly, hopelessly, “How could anyone but the chosen of God set the world right?” Self assuredly, cynically. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> How? How could anyone but a being empowered by the divine stand against the inevitability of fate? The pressure built. Chaos felt something lurch in her chest.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Amanda turned her head to the left, her mind’s eye wandering. “By going forward…. Going forward and making something new. Something that’s not afraid to call bullshit when it sees it, and not afraid to fix it either.” The sayings of Jehanne, the creeds of the Balefire, they were well within the forefront of Amanda’s mind. “There’s millions of folks out there fighting and dying every day for no good reason. And a billion more dying because they couldn’t make ends meet. All while rich SOB’s and politicians play games with people's lives.” The time she spent on the road, out in the world, meeting every kind of person she could and couldn’t imagine, it flashed by her like scenes on the highway horizon. “I know I said I’d fight you vampires even if you didn’t come after us, but I gotta be honest…. If you never came for Luna Nova, for my family?” Her eyes drifted around, settling on Constanze. “I can’t say I’d ever know you even existed.” The two shared a fleeting, mournful gaze. “I wanted you dead because Constanze wanted you dead. She wanted vengeance, and I’m not about to let someone I care about that much take on a fight like this alone.” </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai lightly wheezed. “How<em> touching </em>….” Undying or not, his body felt like it was failing him more and more with each passing moment. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda ignored his prodding. “Now though? After all we’ve been through? I can’t say it’s just about sticking with my friends and family anymore, because it ain’t.” The faces of Porthcurno’s locals, the many witches she’d seen come to fight and die for strangers, all to do something <em> right </em> in a world that was so full of things that were <em> wrong </em>. “I’ve seen too much good come out of all this bad for me to write it off as a fluke. All because we stumbled, got lured into, or for whatever other fucking reason, this order of the Balefire decided to come into our lives.”</p><p> </p><p>Nikolai’s resigned cynicism fell away, if only for a moment. “You knew nothing of the order prior…?” Amanda and Constanze shook their heads. Salt fell into Nikolai’s wounds. “To be bested not just by heretics…. But <em> upstarts </em>….” His frown could go no deeper, even without lips.</p><p> </p><p>“Oi! I may be young, but I’ve been around the block, and just about everyone older than me knows that something’s gone wrong with the world!” In some places, life was a carefree and routine thing. “A lot of those same folks tried talking it out, working things around the way we have it, making slow and steady change….” And yet in those same places, life was also entirely commodified; a thankless struggle enjoyed by the hoodwinked minority, and a sisyphean endeavor for the disillusioned majority. “That was <em> decades </em> ago.” Amanda turned back toward Nikolai.  “We’ve been stuck like this for more than a century. No matter how advanced things seem to get, shit just keeps gettin’ worse for everyone who isn’t running this show!” She spoke plainly, and from the heart; fire trailed every word. </p><p> </p><p>“So we’ve tried talking things out. We’ve tried letting the people who caused all of these issues fix them. We’ve waited around for things to get better all on their own.” Ruefully, spitefully, Amanda shook her head. “I’ve had enough waiting around. I’m only twenty-fucking-two and I’m tired of waiting!” She threw her right arm wide. Frustration seeped from her every pore. “So you know what? You’re right about one more thing:” Nikolai raised what remained of his brow. “We’re gonna need to get our hands dirty and fight for change the old fashioned way. But I’ll be damned if we go back to an old fashioned way of life! It’s that old fashioned thinking that got us where we are today!” She cast her far flung hand to the sky, pointing to her comrades. “And it’s common folks like us who are gonna have to wise up and stand up or shut up!”</p><p> </p><p>The defeated vampire lord’s curiosity slowly turned to familiar disgust. “A <em>peasant</em> <em>uprising</em>….” The day of his clan's great defeat loomed over him. No grand battle came about that day, but Nikolai would not forget the fury in the eyes of the combatants who yet waited in the wings…. “That is what you’re after…. Isn’t it?” If only they had been afforded the chance to meet the forces outside castle Čachtice. Nikolai chortled and coughed. “Was it not your ancestor, Von Braunschbank, who halted just that?” Asgall’s and Maxwell’s recounting of the tale came to light in the sisters’ minds. “And for what? To save their pathetic lives? Were they not all too willing to give themselves to a cause?” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze snapped back. “That was then. Now is now.” She seemed so calm, so disinterested, so <em> flat </em> , that one might think she wasn’t as furious as she truly was. It was <em> that </em> kind of anger that was overtaking her. “Things have changed. They had their reasons. We have ours.” </p><p> </p><p>“Bahhh….” Nikolai laid his head out flat on his cheek. “You are undisciplined, idealistic, and outmatched.” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Undisciplined? Perhaps. Idealistic? Absolutely. Outmatched? If Chaos could laugh, she would. The crack spread. Her carapace weakened.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Amanda wiped a bit of dried blood from her face. “Big talk coming from a guy who got thrashed by ‘upstarts.’” </p><p> </p><p>“Spare me your gloating.” His tone had become as flat as Constanze’s now, but for oh so very different reasons. “You will amount to nothing, just as all the others who came before you who tried to rise above their God given stations did.” His eyes closed as best they could; the best he could hope for was a peaceful entrance to heaven. “You will be a blip on the records of history. An abnormality that is crushed…. “ He shook his head. “You will fail, like the re—” But Amanda wasn’t about to let this bastard get off easy. </p><p> </p><p>“Who the fuck are you to say that!?” Nikolai opened his better eye wide, surprised by such zealous confidence. “You’re the one who came here spouting off about how terrible this system is! So unless you never thought you could win to begin with, I don’t wanna hear your dismissal!” He could do little but bear the brunt of the rhetorical assault. “So what if that’s how things like this went!? “People are <em> dying </em> out there! Hell, more people day in and day out are accepting that the world’s just… over! This is it! Give it fifty years and we’ll be done! Gone! Extinct!” She threw her arms out wide, desperate, and let them fall to her side effortlessly. “I’m not about to become one of those people! And I’ll be damned if I let this chance to change things slip by!” </p><p> </p><p>“You would let us slip into barbarism….” Nickolai spat the words out like soiled food. </p><p> </p><p>Amanda snapped back fiercely. “Newsflash asshole: Hardly anyone <em> wants </em> to live like that!” She pointed out toward nothing in particular. “Answer me honestly: Do you really think anyone who’s been forced to turn to crime, or feels like they’re trapped down in the pits, or whatever the hell you wanna come up with; do you really think, if you gave them a chance to do it over again with the bare minimum guarantee that they could have some food in their belly, a decent, safe place to sleep, and some clothes on their back, that they wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to live a peaceful life?” Amanda huffed and puffed. Her throat was growing sore, but the discomfort was well worth the realization. “And don’t you come at me with that excuse that people would just sit around and do nothing! People want to <em> live </em> their lives, not waste ‘em sittin’ around gathering dust!” </p><p> </p><p>Nikolai grumbled to himself. “You live in a fantasy….” His eyes fell upon the soil. </p><p> </p><p>“Then I guess it’s about time we make this fantasy a reality!” The weight of such a responsibility was heavy on her shoulders. Heavier than saving Luna Nova was, heavier than being the new leader of the order, heavier than changing herself for the sake of not just her lovers, but herself; heavier than all of that combined. “I may not know exactly how we’re going to fix things…. Hell, I <em> know </em> The Balefire can’t do it alone. But we aren’t alone, and we’re never gonna be alone.” Again, her eyes were cast upward. “There’s too many folks out there looking for a reason to keep on hoping for us to ever die out like that…. We’ll figure things out together as we go along…. We’ll learn from all those groups that came before us and failed. Hell, the Balefire failed like all the rest! We’re coming from damn near nothing here!” As her fists tensed and her heart beat proudly, Amanda spoke one final statement on the matter of their purpose: “But even if all we have to start is me, Conz, and Maxwell, then I know we’ll at least be able to do <em> some </em> kinda good. Because I know that we’re not going to sit quietly and let the world burn: No, we’re gonna stand up and fight fire with fire.” <em> This </em> was her <em> justice </em>, from now on and forever more. </p><p> </p><p>The wind howled. The battle raged. Amanda had said her piece, and Constanze could only nod once in solemn, wholehearted agreement. Nikolai could only exhale, exhausted, and accepting of the painful reality he could not escape. “So be it.” Though he was no less bitter about it. “Your fate is yours to waste. I pray that God is merciful to you….” He blinked slowly, purposefully. “At the least, I hope he grants you something less agonizing than the <em> worst </em> Hell has to offer.” He shot Constanze specifically one final glance before fully settling. “For a sinner with the best of intentions deserves a better fate than the sinner with the worst.” Constanze’s nose flared. Her stonewall of white hot anger, so placid as to be perceived as neutrality, began to fade. She was <em> beyond </em> insulted by such an insinuation. “Now kill me. Kill me and let me go to my heavenly father who art in heaven,” She began to grind her teeth invisibly at first, but then she let her lips part as her face contorted into a monstrous mirror of Nikolai’s <em> worst </em> expression of disgust. “For I must admit: Blessed as we are with nigh eternal life on Earth….” Amanda couldn't help but take notice. Her eyes slowly widened, and she took one step back unwittingly. “I am long overdue for my eternity in his kingdom.” Only for Constanze to take one quick step toward her sister, surge forward with her right arm, and draw Dyrnwyn from its primary sheathe. </p><p> </p><p>“Conz what are you—!?” A raised finger shoved in her face shut Amanda up quick. “Conz?” The held out hand trembled slightly. Constanze breathed deeply, heavily. She needed to do this, above all else. “Just… be careful.” Amanda conceded the point and straightened out her startled posture. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze retracted her left arm and took Dyrnwyn in both hands. She raised it high, the blade poised to stab downward, and shoved it into— “Look. At. Me.” —The cold dirt. Nikolai flinched at the sound of the sword, but did not open his eye. “Look at me!” Not until Constanze demanded it. He saw a rage all too familiar, a desire for vengeance all too powerful. He felt anxiety wash over him, a most alien feeling for the vampire lord indeed. “Do you know what this is?” Constanze pointed at Dyrnwyn. </p><p> </p><p>“... It is the burning blade.” Said Nikolai, flatly. “Are you going to use that to kill me?” Constanze did not nod, but her glare said enough. “I suppose I should be honoured…. It will be a fitting death.” </p><p> </p><p>“Do you know how it works?”</p><p> </p><p>Nikolai scoffed. “Think me a witch like yourself?” Constanze’s rancor intensified. “<em> No </em>. I don’t. And I don’t care to learn how.” </p><p> </p><p>Too bad. “Did you know it was first wielded by a king.” Less a question, and more a very threatening demand for an answer. Nikolai blinked, confused and annoyed. He shook his head. “A king who probably believed in the same god you do.” </p><p> </p><p>“W-What does that have to do with anything!? Simply kill me and be done with it!” He felt something… strange grow in his chest.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Another crack formed; a break in the Black. “Hrrgh…! Agh…!” Light began to glimmer through her. Nikolai wasn’t the only one with something growing in their chest.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“It ignites when fully drawn.” Constanze put her left hand on the safety sheathe. “<em> Fully </em> drawn.” Nikolai swallowed back blood and dread. “Do you know what happens when I remove this.” </p><p> </p><p>Nikola snapped back a little <em> too </em> quickly. “Wha—!? How am— How am I supposed to know!?” He squirmed and wriggled like a maggot, bearing his fangs all the while, as if he was still capable of hiding it; the fear in his heart.</p><p> </p><p>“It catches fire.” Constanze grabbed at the lip of the safety sheathe and summoned little blue flames to her fingertips. “Then one of two things will happen:” They traveled along the lunar inscriptions slowly, intently. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The lines ran along her form like roots. Ironic. And worse so that it wouldn’t even kill her. “Gods…! Ahaagh!” Bile dripped from every newly formed crevice. Light smothered the darkness.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Either the sword stays lit and serves the wielder...” The arcane lock was released with a slight snap as the leather unbounded itself. Constanze held it in place with her fingers. “Or the wielder is considered unjust, and the fire consumes them instead.” Nikolai’s eye widened, enough that the other opened in turn. Constanze let the sheath drop. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>FWOOOSH! </em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Krkrk! Kurrrkrrrk!  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Fire. Bright and blue. White at its core, dark like the sea on the edges, and cyan in the frayed flickering flames between. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Her body glowed black and white. Dark light. Shining shadow. A spectrum of color. Chaos’ eyes flashed rapidly.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Constanze stood tall. Her hands were alight with fire, but she experienced no pain. Dyrnwyn burned the ground around where it was lodged, and the flames licked at Nikolai’s already burnt face. “No….” The word escaped his lips against his will. His eyes ran the length of the blade, up Constanze’s hand, and up to her eyes. They too glowed with that self same hue of bright blue; her irises were the gateways to an inferno. <em> “But…. But that means….” </em> Constanze drew the blade from the ground with a heave. She raised it up high in both hands, the sword flashing in the rising sun’s light. A final, chilled whisper escaped the mad lord: “Isten bocsásson meg.” And thus his life was ended with a singular strike to the head. His skull was cut open like a melon. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The seizures intensified. Her body mutated at an alarming rate. Warriors and witches who came to look upon her shrieked and steered clear; a hole in the battlefield was forming where Chaos floated. </em>
</p><p> </p><p> Amanda looked to her sister, but nothing was said in haste. Heaving breaths were had on the latter’s part, while Amanda stood there, stunned. She couldn’t believe it. “... Constanze….” She almost <em> refused </em> to believe it. “You…. You drew it!?” Because the truth was making her green with envy, “Are you insane!?” And the fact that it <em> could </em> have burned her sister to ash for any number of mysterious reasons just made her pissed. After all the hammering Constanze did about not taking “unnecessary risks,” and she goes and does this!? </p><p> </p><p>Constanze didn’t respond, not immediately at least. Her eyes were wholly fixed on the freshly killed corpse of her tormentor, unblinking and fire-filled. Dyrnwyn lay still within Nikolai’s head, as clean as a whistle, made so by the fire that burned away every speck of blood and grime. Constanze’s chest rose and fell like waves on the open ocean, rogue waves and crashing tides, her expression of malice, of revilement and hate, slowly but surely, melted into one of solemn, blissful contentment. “Mmmmmph—” In through the nose. “—Haaaaaa….” Out through the mouth. <em> “Finally.” </em> She blinked and her eyes were no longer alight; all, for once, seemed right with the world.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> But all was not right with the world. The first of many ill fated things was about to transpire. Onlookers gawked in horror, staying their blades and wands in an alliance of the few combatants, vampires, witches and even Fae, who had been entranced by the sight of Chaos’ grand metamorphosis.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Amanda didn’t know what else to say. She was tempted to try and grab her sister’s attention again, but she knew her concerns to be moot, her petty jealousy to be an ephemeral thing; this was a moment of power for Constanze, and she had every right to enjoy that moment without interruption. <em> “God damnit….” </em> Amanda wiped one hand over her head, through her flamingo coloured and spiky locks. <em>  “At least she’s alright.” </em> In the end, Amanda knew that her sister’s well being was all that really mattered. <em> “And… hey, maybe this means...” </em> Her eyes shifted focus onto the blade itself. The fire enticed her, called to her, from within and without. She blinked, and for a fleeting moment, her eyes too caught fire; her hair fluttered in the wind, ashes flying from the tips. <em> “That I’ve got a chance to </em> — <em> ” </em> It was left as quickly as it came. </p><p> </p><p>“Schwester,” Amanda perked up, her focus changing from Dyrnwyn’s fire to Constanze’s face. “Danke.” With just two words, and a sight for sore eyes, that of Constanze’s soft, teary smile, Amanda’s worries were chased away. </p><p> </p><p>She smirked and put what little knowledge of German she had to use. “Bitte.” The sisters shared a long, well deserved moment of respite, a soft stare of camaraderie, and a silent understanding of a triumph over a great and terrible threat. It was a minor victory, in the greater scheme of things, but to them? To them it seemed like the first sign that this battle might well and truly be one they could win; one they could survive. Then Constanze started to sway a small bit. Her hands loosed from Dyrnwyns hilt, and the fire began to fade. Amanda didn’t notice it at first, and neither did Constanze, not until the whole world started to spin for the latter, and she quickly found herself falling. “Conz!” Amanda lurched forward and caught her sister on the way down. Again, so much for being alright. “Oi! Say something!” She lightly tapped Constanze’s cheek, earning a lazily swatting slap in return. </p><p> </p><p>“Mmmgh!” Constanze was awake enough, but gods did she feel disoriented. “... Fine!” Her whole body felt like it was falling into hibernation</p><p> </p><p>Amanda grunted and shifted herself to sit in a less excruciating position; her legs felt like they’d been tenderized by a jackhammer. “People who are fine don’t fall over like that.” </p><p> </p><p>Constanze peaked one eye open. “Mhmmhmm…. Mmmm.” She pointed a finger at Amanda’s bloody forehead. <em> “They don’t ignore the fact that they’re bleeding from their skull either.” </em> </p><p> </p><p>Rustling from behind them. Not too loud, but not too soft not to possibly notice. The thick shrubs were disturbed. “Am I the one who can’t stand up straight?” They were too engrossed in their pain and chatting to realize it though.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Constanze grunted and forced herself to sit up such that she needed to only rest against Amanda, rather than be held up by her. “But you look like shit.” A heavy yet small footstep was made every other second. The sound of a dragging foot filled in the gaps. Whatever was approaching them was slow, no, hurt. </p><p> </p><p>“I <em> feel </em> like shit, Constanze.” Everything around her head-wound throbbed like a comic bomb just moments away from bursting. “So pardon me for not coming out of this all pretty like.” If it didn’t hurt so much, Amanda might’ve actually tried to grin there. </p><p> </p><p>Constanze was similarly disinclined from smiling, “Mmm. Probably don’t look better.” But at least they could share in the humor regardless. “Do I look worse?” She eyed her body from toe to chest, and it seemed kinda bad, but also not. </p><p> </p><p>“Uhh,” Amanda peered to her left, the side Constanze was laying her against. She hissed and covered her mouth slightly at the sight of the already scabbed wound along her back. “From the back you do.” Her immediate inclination told her to use her own bottle of regenerative draught to further treat the wound, but the instant Constanze heard the cork pop on the bottle, she raised her right hand up flatly. </p><p> </p><p>“Mm-mm.” She shook her head. “You use it.”</p><p> </p><p>“You sure?”</p><p> </p><p>“Posi—”</p><p> </p><p>Finally, the approaching thing had come close enough to speak up, meekly, weakly. “C-Cons-s-stanze?” Still rife with tension, both witches tried and failed to get in a danger-ready position, stood up and wands drawn and all. “Amanda?” All they ended up doing was falling over themselves, making their already sore bodies even more wracked with pain. When the two opened their eyes, they saw a dirtied, battle scarred woman, standing not far from them with one mangled hand held by the wrist of another less ruined appendage. “Oh… thank goodness—” Through sheer grit and timely wit, “—You’re… alright.” Chariot Du Nord yet walked among the living. </p><p> </p><p>The sisters exclaimed as one: “Chariot!”</p><p> </p><p>“S-So much has happened, hasn’t it…?” Then she was stumbling among the living. “So… much….” Now she was falling among the living, and—Oh dear. “Much….” A facefull of dirt was all she needed, but it was what she got. Constanze mustered up their strength, gave each other a quick look, and then rushed to the fallen professor’s aid. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>The next few moments went by in a flurry; everything felt faster, more electric, more so than the battle even. </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Amanda and Constanze slid and tripped into position beside Chariot. Both were quick to check for basic signs of life, cuts and bruises, the works. Without thinking, Amanda used the bottle of restorative she’d popped for herself on Chariot’s gnarled hand; anything to stop the bleeding. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> THUNK! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Wood slammed against stone across the courtyard. A knight of Bathory was blasted through the northern doors by some sort of arcane attack. He rolled and tumbled along for a few feet, only to use his claw and sword to anchor himself. He did his damndest to reverse his momentum and get back at whoever his enemies were, but an ethereal sword, green and blue in hue, stabbed at his heart before he had the chance. He burst into flames, his armor and weapon clattered into the ash pile. Diana burst through wide-flung doors, wand raised. “Are we clear!?” She shouted back as the sword returned to her side, floating just over her left shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Chaos resisted it as long as she could. She fought fate with every fiber of her being up until this moment. She could bear the burden of resisting no longer.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“U-Um!” Akko and Lotte followed suit. “Yeah! Yeah, that’s—” The latter tried to reply, but the sight of the courtyard caught her off guard. “AMANDA! CONSTANZE!” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Her black cloak billowed, and her wings buzzed furiously. Six more arms, all insectoid and variant in shape, violently broke free from Chaos’ thorax. They spread themselves out wide, contorting into horrible, jagged configurations.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Eh!?” Akko looked all around before focusing forward. “I thought you guys were on the r—!” It took a moment to realize whose body was laid in between them. “C-Ch-Ch—!” The scarlet red hair, the outfit, the wounds. “CHARIOT!” Her heart practically stopped.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Her body came to resemble a black star of chaos, coloured by all hues known and unknown, shining its baleful light on the world for the first... </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Guys!” Amanda flagged the trio down. Give us a hand here!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> … And final time. “Lo! Thine d-d-dread empires!”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> Diana dropped her wand. The ethereal sword vanished in a puff. “Chariot….” She couldn’t believe it. “You’re—” And before she could even think to finish the obvious statement, her body bid her to sprint forward. Akko did it too, and Lotte was expectedly late to follow as a duo of skeletal hunters and a few Antiquarians looked out from the door and into the courtyard. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Each arm, whilst outstretched, angled its claws such that they pointed inwards toward the center of Chaos’ chest where the breach was at its greatest. “L-Look upon me and know!” Scattered far across the skies, Red, Green, and White, took notice.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The five reclaimers formed a small huddle around Chariot, with Diana damn near bulldozing Constanze and Amanda aside just to get closer to her mentor, and Akko frantically trying to find an angle from which to help. Lotte on the other hand circled the group in a panic, looking all over, unsure of herself, until she settled her eyes back on the way they came and whistled for the Antiquarians; they’d need all the healing help they could get, and not just for Chariot. </p><p> </p><p><em> Red and Green were mortified. They believed their sister possessed, insane, or worse. They knew not how to help her. </em> <em> White on the other hand went slack; her body, and the air around her became deathly cold. “No….” </em></p><p> </p><p>Diana scanned Chariot’s body with all due focus. She took mental note of every cut, bruise, blemish, and blood stain before moving on to heal the worst of her wounds: That ruined hand of hers. “Gauze! Splint! Now!” Amanda patted her coat down fruitlessly for gauze while Constanze got to work trying to whip something basic together out of what paltry supplies she had. None of them really came prepared as medics. “Beatrix’s sake!” So Diana dug her teeth into her partly torn sleeve in the most Un-Cavendish manner and jerked it away; a long section of cloth would do for staunching the blood. “Draught!” Amanda handed that over quick enough; Diana was even quicker to apply it around the area where the forearm bone had been nearly served. “Wrap it and apply pressure! Don’t unless I tell you!” Akko joined in with Amanda, having torn a section of her own sleeve up haphazardly to aid in the process. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She couldn’t believe it. Of all the people to do this to her, all the contingencies she had accounted for in the plan, Will couldn’t have prepared for something like this. A cannonball lay heavy in her gut. The space behind her eyes throbbed with dull pain. She had experienced this sensation only once before across her many lifetimes.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The best Constanze could do involved some transfigured stone, now turned to foam-like padding, and a length of rope she’d cut into sections. Upon presenting it to Diana, the Cavendish was clearly displeased, but she knew they had little else in the way of options. Silently, she shook her head, swore a curse to herself, and accepted the hastily made splint. She tried to slot Chariot's mangled arm into it, but even just lifting it up from its awkward, bent position on the ground made Diana’s blood curdle. Too much force and the bone would break all the way through; the frayed musculature connecting it would weaken further. Chariot’s heart rate was there, and so was her breathing, but even with the best field treatment, if they kept that forearm attached, she was bound to either bleed out or contract some truly damning infections. Gangrene, or any other kind of necrotization would make amputation an inevitability, and worsen the chances that she’d keep the rest of that arm. Diana would never forgive herself for this, no matter how necessary it was. “Apply a sleeping spell, hold her steady, and get me my wand!” Akko and company looked at her with confusion over the whole “sleeping spell” bit. “It has to come off!” Was all she answered them with. A tense silence fell over them. “DO IT!” But it didn’t last long. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It was the sensation of betrayal.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Akko and Constanze moved Chariot’s body as best they could while Amanda threw her jacket down to serve as a tarp of sorts. At the same time, Lotte received the fast approaching Antiquarians, received Diana’s wand from them, passed it along, and did her best to explain what was wrong in as few words as possible. “One of our professors is hurt! W-We need to amp-amputate and—! Just cover us!” The Antiquarians nodded and began to form a wide perimeter, joined by the hunters who were all too quick to take notice of the strange lights coming from on high. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Chaos’ human eye sank deep into her face. Carapace overtook the final bits of human flesh, but her metamorphosis had only just begun. </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> “Hraaaah!” </em>One of them pointed their bony fingers up toward the black star, and in turn, the other hunters came to a slow halt. The living witches too turned their gazes skyward, struck by the strange, almost intoxicating aura that the shape had about it. They could neither look away nor close their eyes, no matter how much they wished to. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Mournfully, the Witch in Black Chittered her epitaph:  “Know that this symphony ends in blood!” The eightfold claws tensed, the pincers clacked once in unison, and then they all plunged inward, becoming buried deep in the glowing cracks that emanated from Chaos’ chest.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The light intensified, the colors out of space slithered and permeated every inch of air. Not even Diana could resist the morbid and curious urge to look upward and behold. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Krkrkrkrkrk…!” The hooked claws pulled hard and strong. The crack grew wider. The plates of carapace snapped like bark. “Kraahagh...!” The pain was infinite and all consuming. It bore deep into her mind, bringing each wretched voice bound to her soul to scream until their throats bled black bile. “KGHAARK…!” Then, in one fatal instant, the being Chaos once knew to be her own imploded as her carapace, or rather, her cocoon of a body, exploded.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> “KRRRRYYYYYAAAAAAAA </em> <b> <em>AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA</em> </b> <b>—!”</b></p><p> </p><p>The wind shrieked, the air fouled, the light refracted in on itself, creating infinite rainbows of color. The battle was halted wholesale. Everyone shielded their eyes or turned away. Bits of black carapace rained down in little smoldering fragments. Screams of terror permeated the night. No small amount of witches were sent into a full on rout in all directions, and even the Bathory’s seasoned warriors took flight away from the field. Unlike the witches however, the knights did not take kindly to the sun’s cresting rays, and thus those who did not flee to the castle itself were burned to a man. </p><p> </p><p>All those who yet remained in the air, and those who dared look on from below, were left to face the thing that once knew itself as Chaos. It was an insect so alien as to defy conventional categorization, and the light that emanated from it was so great such as to make understanding its full form near impossible from a distance. What was certain of its shape was this: </p><p> </p><p>It stood around seven feet tall when only accounting for its body, and bore a chromatic and reflective carapace that constantly shined with that same black light which first shone out of Chaos’ body. It had eight appendages in total, each a seemingly ever shifting mass of flesh and biomatter; sometimes a tendril, sometimes a claw, sometimes a facsimile of a hand with too many digits, or mismatched fingers. It floated by anomalous means, unaffected by the wind, and in complete disregard for gravity, but it also possessed three pairs of wings, each of which were currently folded up behind it. All else was obscured, blurred, or warped by the light, its other body parts, or the haze of eldritch magicks which swirled around it…. All except for <em> one </em> thing: </p><p> </p><p>A twinkling thing, a stone perhaps? A firefly maybe? An arcane orb of sorts? Whatever it was, it was pure, and shined unlike the rest. Where terror fell in the wake of the void creatures’ shadow, hope trailed behind the sparkling thing like a comet’s tail. It floated just a foot or so from the creature’s face, drifting away from it slowly, almost entirely unnoticed by all but the being of black itself. The thing that was Chaos chittered and twitched its many horned head, much like a curious reptile would upon seeing something for the first time. It watched with unknowable emotion as the ball of light seemed to bounce and sway. The creature responded with humming, buzzing, chittering. Were they speaking to one another? The words could not be heard, or understood; an argument of sorts, one the creature wasn’t taking very seriously.  </p><p> </p><p>The ball of light pulsed once, blinking brightly, causing something truly miraculous to occur: The Fae’s eyes softened; the red hate fell away. Their minds began to return to them, and confusion quickly followed. They were unaware of all that had transpired since they fell under the spell of The Fates, and so they were naturally quite disturbed to find themselves in a strange land, likely bloodied, and surrounded by similarly abused Fae and even wounded humans. Another chorus of screams and yells rang out in the night as the Fae and monsters fell into panic. The ball of light seemed to nod aggressively, as if urging for something. The insectoid monstrosity simply shook its head, using the last remnants of its humanity to communicate with the light; a one sided promise between two souls was made.</p><p> </p><p>And then the ball of light was off: It shot straight up into the air, creating a needle thin pillar of light in its wake. It disappeared into the clouds in a flash, leaving nothing behind but an ephemeral trace of stardust, and the creature it would one day meet again. </p><p> </p><p>Now alone with the frightened and delirious mortals, Fae, and monsters that were scattered across the isle, the eldritch horror borne of Chaos, spread wide its dreadful wings wide: Numbering six in total, the wings stacked from the top of its back to the bottom of its vaguely oval shaped body. Each was spread about twenty feet out, with the middle most being the greatest, and the top most being the smallest. The closest thing they resembled in shape were butterfly wings, and they were even marked by patterns, but to call those patterns natural would be an affront to nature itself. Eyes, the dark outlines of lips, teeth, and noses, all human, set to a void black backdrop; that was all that could be made out with ease, and none of it stayed the same for long. Each wing beat about a hundred times a second, and for each beat, the image shifted: The pupils moved frantically. The rows of teeth chattered and flew wide, as if to scream or laugh. It was a stop motion show of distilled delirium. The entity clacked its pincers twice and drooled black ooze. Its baser instincts had taken control: It was time to fee—</p><p> </p><p>Another ball of light, a much, <em> much </em> larger one this time, tackled the butterfly thing from the west. The sound of thunder, the echo of the sound barrier breaking, came a moment later. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> FRRRRWWOOOM! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The noise shattered glass and ear drums alike, sent witches, Fae, and knights all spiraling in the air, desperate for stability. A great rumble and explosion of earth came a moment later, far off on the eastern side of the island. Then all was quiet, relatively speaking, but not like before: The sounds of battle were gone now, for the most part. There were a few monsters who were just that: Monsters. They were arcane beasts that needed to be subdued, like a certain hydra, but many more were either frightened, or had enough awareness and sapience to realize that order needed to be established. The witches and hunters quickly formed an alliance with the newly freed Fae and monsters, and the knights were more or less given leave to retreat if they wished, for none retained the will to fight, and so they did. A weakened, disparate flock of dread-steed mounted vampires made for Castle Bathory. Their fight was not done, but a temporary ceasefire was in quiet effect while all of the involved parties got their wits about them. </p><p> </p><p>The courtyard bound reclaimers were just as caught up in the insanity as everyone else, though they were deathly quiet: “What. The hell. Was that.” Until Constanze of all people decided to break that silence with a half deadpan, half horrified look on her face. All she got were deer-in-headlights stares and slow heads as a response. </p><p> </p><p>Needless to say, it was going to take a while to make sense of things. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The newly formed crater smoldered. Smoke rose from it in great big clouds, and at its center, a great mass of bright white light, stood atop the black, chitinous, and writhing thing; The Black Hierophant, The Dread Herald, The Eightfold Harbinger, The Beast of Chaos. </p><p> </p><p>“You….” Wills’ hands were around its “neck,” if you could call it that. “You ruined <em> everything </em> ….” Splintering wounds let blood red spots appear on Will’s otherwise pristinely white cloak, and black bile further tarnished her sleeves. She cared not. “Why?” Sadness and rage formed a knot in her throat. “Why did you let this happen?! <em> How </em> could you let this happen!?” Will shook the creature violently, her own aura flaring up in tune with her humors. The creature gurgled and chittered. Its many antennae twitched, and its mandibles snapped at Will, but the Witch in White simply focused her mind and magic on the creature, forcing its limbs to become “locked” to the ground. “Now you strike at me…?” Will’s anguished, angered expression, winced. “Do you know what you are doing!? WHAT YOU’VE DONE!?” Tears of regret and loathing made it only half way down her cheek before turning to steam. Her body was hot and bright like the sun. </p><p> </p><p><b>“Krkrkrkrreeeek!”</b> The Beast tried to lash out again, snapping its head up and struggling with its arm, but it was for not; the power of The Mantle kept the entity in check, as did the wounds it received on impact; they would regenerate in time. </p><p> </p><p>“ANSWER ME!” Will refused to accept it. “ANSWER ME OR BE BROKEN!” She refused to accept that one of her most trusted friends, fraught as their relationship was, had turned on her, and taken the form of the eld. </p><p> </p><p>“Stop!” Cried Cause. </p><p> </p><p>“Cease!” Yelped Effect. </p><p> </p><p>“This must be some mistake!” They said as one while their floating bodies screamed in from the east. Will turned her head around to spy The Twins approach, and catch a glimpse of the destruction her charge had left: A fifty foot stretch of forest had been sundered. It looked like a meteor had crashed by how deep and wide the tail of the crater was, and from how mangled all of the trees near the ditch were. She lingered on the sight too long, and lost a mere fraction of her focus, but that was all The Beast of Chaos needed. It’s top right most appendage, currently in the form of a mantis’ talon, scythed up to try and gut Will, but a surge of earth and ice caught it mid swing. “Chaos please!” The Twins pleaded, their arms extended, elemental magic swelling in their palms. “Come to your senses! WAKE UP!” No matter how much the twins pleaded, The Dread Herald remained deaf to their frets and cries; sisters no longer. “Chaos…!” Their eyes too welled with tears. Sorrow overcame them like a tidal wave; their arms lowered, slowly, faithlessly. </p><p> </p><p>Will growled, her head turned around to face the thing again. “You WILL obey!” She drew her right hand up and put it firmly against the entity’s forehead. White light surged from her palm and across the things head like spreading roots, vines, and creep; Will was trying to probe her mind using all of the psychic magic she could muster. “Yield to me your secrets!” The Herald’s antennae twitched and flailed. It screeched in pain, but Will began to gasp and scream as well; the suffering was shared.”Ghaaaagh!” Still, she persisted, for the sake of the world, herself, and her sister. “Y-You… will…!” The light began to fade, the creeping roots decayed. Chromatic tendrils replaced them, writhing out from behind the things incomprehensibly complex and bulbous eyes. They touched Will’s fingertips and shocked her with energies from beyond, visions of All. </p><p> </p><p>“AAAGH!” She saw it! IT! What was it!? Who was it!? Where was it! Everything! Everywhere! Everyone! Splitting atoms and the dance of electrons! The universe unveiled and witnessed from a panopticon! After images flooded before and behind every moving thing! Sound echoed off of itself and combined to reveal secret messages! A voice was among them, no, a thousand voices, each more familiar than the last! Out! OUT! THEY WANTED OUT! </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Thmp-skrsshhh! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Black overtook Will’s vision. Flashing lights followed. Whispers of unbidden knowledge lingered in her ears. She was on the ground now, having tumbled a few feet away. Cause was atop her, and Effect was floating over The Herald. The former had tackled her to safety while the latter freezed the eld entity solid from the “neck” down, effectively containing it for a time. “Will?” Asked Cause. “Are you—?” Will shoved her red cloaked sister off. Cause grunted, lifted her head up, and looked to Will with anger; it all fell away in favor of despair when she saw Will’s face. </p><p> </p><p>Will was sat up, her palms raised, her eyes upon them with disgust and rage in her eyes: Her fingers had been touched by the colours. The spots where the tendrils of eld met her flesh throbbed with chaotic chromas; her hands twitched with energy. “Our own sister…. Taken in and trusted as if of our own blood,” Will’s knuckles began to tense. Fists took form. “Now a betrayer! Like the rest!” She growled and turned her head sharply to face the still struggling creature, its unfrozen head flailing about wildly. “Why…” She asked again, colder this time. “Why did you do it!?”</p><p> </p><p><b>“KHRREEEA—! AEEERII—! AEEERRRAAA!—” </b>Nothing but nonsense. It wasn’t even traveler’s cant, or anything else remotely close to a language of eld. It was just… noises. Noises of a thing that had seemingly lost its minds aeons ago. </p><p> </p><p>Will “You have no idea… do you?” Chittering, buzzing, chirping; nothing more. “No…. You don’t know….” Will vented white hot air from her nose. Her knuckles eased, her hands went limp. “You couldn’t know…. Not even if you wanted to….” </p><p> </p><p>Cause felt her lips tremble. “She’s—”</p><p> </p><p>“—Gone.” Effect covered her mouth, stifling a sob. “Kosm—” The utterance of Chaos’ true name was halted by a sharp glance from Will. Even now, in this most wretched of times, their old identities must remain as such. Effect’s ability to keep it together broke down at that point. She cried deeply, but quietly, as if still desperately trying to hide it. Cause could only bow her head; her breath unsteadied. </p><p> </p><p>Will paid her crying sisters no mind. She turned her head slowly back toward the entrapped Herald and spoke to herself: “Yet again, those who betray me are shielded from punishment….” It was sad, but true: Chaos’ mind was too far gone to be salvaged or reasoned with. “And yet again, that betrayal leaves mankind doomed….” The olde Chaos was, for all intents and purposes, dead….  Or so it seemed. “No….” Spite. Grief. Hate. It boiled the blood of Will’s body. “No, I won’t be denied a second time!” She shunted herself off of the forest floor and flew over to where Effect was; the Witch in Green retreated to her twin’s side, gasping as she did so. “I know you’re in there, Chaos!” Will seethed. “I <em> know </em> you can hear me!” The Hierophant snapped and hissed. “Twisted as you are, warped as your mind is, you WILL answer for your crimes!” Chaos may have “died,” but Will knew that her sister’s mind remained in one form or another, and as far as Will’s bloodlust for justice and vengeance was concerned, <em> that </em> was enough. </p><p> </p><p>As Will spoke aloud to herself, Effect knelt beside her sister and took hold of her hands. She shook them thoroughly and whimpered, pleading wordlessly with Cause to get up, for Effect didn’t believe herself capable of facing this reality on her own. All she found on Causes’s face when the witch raised her head was a reflection of Effect’s own pain, her own tears, her own despair. Words formed in their minds, on the tips of their tongues, bitter words, mournful words, even wrathful ones. The instinct to shift the blame was paramount: If they were <em> good </em> sisters, good friends even, they would have somehow known this was coming. They would have defended Chaos, stopped her metamorphosis before it occurred…. But how could they have known? The answer to that didn’t matter. As usual, the concern over blame, over punishment, sat at the forefront of their minds, right beside remorse and regret. Luckily for both twins, they managed to each keep their thoughts to themselves. The two embraced, their arms wrapped around the other tightly. Neither could tell whether they were trying to hug each other, or if this was some pathetic attempt at breaking the others back. </p><p> </p><p>They didn’t get long to contemplate that question either. “Cause! Effect!” The Twins froze with fear, joined still in their embrace, their visages fraught with fear. “Our work is not yet done!” </p><p> </p><p>“To hell with our work!” Effect sobbed her words. “Chaos is DEAD! She is dead and our plan is ruined!” Her grief was stronger than her anger. “So let us mourn! For once in our <em> miserable </em> lives let us <em> grieve </em>!” </p><p> </p><p>Will flew to the ground as she spoke. “Mourn!? MOURN!? YOU WISH TO HONOUR THE MEMORY OF A TRAITOR!?” Her feet scorched the cold, dying grass, rendering the dirt as something akin to dry sand. “She BETRAYED us! She KNEW this was coming! You know how her mind works!” Will’s voice cracked under the strain she put on her throat. “We ALL know that she could not have been ignorant of this!” The apathy, the sluggishness, the failure to even call for aid amidst the transformation. “Either she <em> wanted </em> this to happen, or she didn’t care!” Will stepped toward the huddled Twins. She loomed over them as a bright white pillar of anger. “So dry your tears and <em> get up </em>! I won’t suffer you caring for a creature who never cared for any of us to begin with!” </p><p> </p><p>Effect screamed. “HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT!?” Her uproar earned Cause a forceful shunt of invisible magic, separating the Twins, followed by another motion from Will’s invisible hand. Effect clawed at her neck, the pressure was immense, and Will hadn’t even raised a finger. Cause floated upward slowly, halting only when her gaze met Will’s own. </p><p> </p><p>The Witch in White raised a singular, shaking finger, and pointed toward her left eye. “By opening my <em> fucking </em> eyes.” Beyond the hate, beyond the anger, beyond the hurt, Effect could see it: The tinge of mourning veiled behind countless curtains of false and true emotion. Will grieved in her own way; in a proactive, and in this case, <em> violent </em> way. “So pull yourself together,” Effect was dropped to the floor as harshly as she was raised. She writhed, hacked, and coughed. “And listen to what I am telling you: <em> Our work is not yet done. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“For gods’ sakes Will, GIVE IT UP!” The Witch in White shot Cause a warning glare. It was stubbornly ignored. “The Fae are <em> released </em>! We have lost one of our own…! If you can’t bring yourself to care about—” Cause paused, hyperventilated, then steadied herself. “Our sister of all people…!” Her words were more bitter than the deadliest of venoms. “Then the least you could do is face the obvious! We’re down a Fate! We cannot call upon The Pursuer even if we wanted to! Not without Chaos!” Cause stood up shakily, but defiantly. “It’s done, Will! We’re finished! The best we can do… is try to find a way to save at least some of humanity from the coming—!” A fierce backhanded slap across the face sent her right back down to the earth. </p><p> </p><p>“I will NOT be questioned! Not anymore!” Will shook the shock of the backhand out from her right hand as she lorded over Cause’s down form. “I bear The Mantle! I swore an oath! We all did! And by all of the gods of this earth, I WILL not see us fail!” She breathed heavily, almost exhaustedly. “So listen well, for time is shorter than ever, and every second we allow to go by is one the Bathorys will use toward their ritual!”</p><p> </p><p>Effect coughed up one last defiant question. “Why do you care… ahack… about the Bathorys…? It’s the traitors we want dead…!”</p><p> </p><p>She was lucky that Will deemed this question within the <em> acceptable </em> new boundaries of annoyance: “Our plan remains unchanged save for ONE detail! You will ensure that Bathory cannot ascend! Her defeat is just as important to humanity’s survival as the witches’ own downfall!” Cause and Effect, from their grounded positions, could do nothing but listen. “They as a clan are already destined to fail; the tide has turned against them for the last time! But Bathory herself? Her clan could die a thousand deaths and it wouldn’t matter! If she ascends, then untold millions will die!” Will’s anger, when channeled into her principles, was more powerful than all other emotions and facets of her being…. “So let them fight it out! Let the witches have their battle, and should the need come, then we will handle the reclaimers <em> personally </em>!” Including her fear of reprisal; her fear of The Pact. “</p><p> </p><p>The Twins’ eyes shot open; red and sore. They stared at Will as if she was just as mad as Chaos, but no, she was dead serious. “You wouldn’t make one of us—” Their unified concern was cut short by a glower alone. </p><p> </p><p>“We have no need to sacrifice ourselves: Chaos has already <em> volunteered </em> herself for the task with this betrayal!” The Twins practically attacked Will right then and there, but The Witch in White was having none of it. She raised one hand toward either witch and forced them down flat, their faces in the dirt, held down by the powers of The Mantle. “Should you so much as <em> think </em> about raising your hands against me, then you shall <em> lose </em> them. Am I understood?” Cause and Effect struggled to breathe. It felt like an entire mountain was weighing them down. “Good,” And then they were suddenly forced to stand, now light as a feather. “For I will not suffer mercy for traitors….” Will looked into each Twins eyes and found them too weak and tired, both physically and emotionally, to be capable of resistance. Only then did she release them and allow herself one singular moment of weakness. Her eyes wandered to the frozen Hierophant. “And I will not suffer monsters such as that to exist longer than they need to.” In a twisted way, Will was a hypocrite: Death and obliteration by The Pursuer’s hand for breaking The pact would be a mercy compared to an incomprehensible eternity of eldritchdom. “So go! Go and do as I have ordered! Disrupt the ritual! Prepare the chained leech! Loose it upon the castle when our chances of killing one of the reclaimers is at its greatest! And should all else fail, <em> I </em>will see to Chaos’ completion of the task myself!” </p><p> </p><p>A whistle rang out across the sky. The Fates turned their heads. “Oiii! I see ‘em over here!” A witch, some british bloke and a trio of other fighters from Porthcurno, floated in the air above where Will and The Beast of Chaos first broke the canopy. “Send a flare! Send a flare!” His closest comrade fired it off as he pointed at the group wildly, panic clearly setting in as he noticed Will’s gaze of malice fall upon him. Then his head started to <em> burn </em> , and not like it was fire, like something was <em> inside of him </em> ! All of his comrades were feeling it! “Agh! ACH!” Every second they floated there was a moment spent in ever increasing agony. “BACK! F-FALL… BACK!” So they high tailed it out of there, unaware that no <em> true </em> harm could come to them unless Chaos was released prematurely. </p><p> </p><p>Will sighed heavily, noting the flare that yet lingered. “We’ve lingered long enough.” She spun about on her heels, walked over to the Herald, and opened a portal to the black void beneath it. A snap of the fingers saw the tear sealed, and an effortless glance over her shoulder let her address Cause and Effect for the final time that day: “Now get out of my sight.”</p><p> </p><p>Neither Twin was about to defy that order; all they could ask for was distance from Will. Both turned their backs to The Witch in White, and in doing so, hid their indignant, abused, and hurt stares. Both motioned as one to open a portal of their own that they might carry out their orders as quickly as possible. The sooner this matter was done with, the sooner they might be able to isolate themselves from the world for a good long while; they would need all that time to properly grieve. </p><p> </p><p>The two shuffled their way beyond the veil and Will did them the “favor” of closing the portal behind them as soon as they were through. Now alone, all she could do was look at the colorful, alien spots on her hands. She sneered at the sight and suddenly exhaled; her palms flashed white. When the light faded, and her own vision returned, Will saw the spots to be cured: The plague of colors was gone, leaving the skin dead, but pure. It was better that way, as all things were. </p><p> </p><p>The wind ran along her spine; a winter gale through the sleeping forest. She was not alone after all. A quick turn around, a shocked, almost fearful whipping of the head from left to right to all around. She scanned the treeline, knowing It to be here. Alas, It was quick and crafty as usual: All will saw of it was a few vines, a hint of a strange crimson flower from the edge of the shadows. It had seen everything. “Curse you….” Will spoke through grit teeth. “Chaos may have been a traitor, by choice or by fate, but you….” Her chest rose and fell, faster and faster for every repetition. “Her betrayal will <em> NEVER </em> be as severe as yours!” And then the whistles were sounding again; the witches were returning in great numbers. Time to leave. “Well…? Are you going to at least say something?” No response came, not even the rustling of bushes. “You always were a coward.” Will sighed, swiped her hand along the air to make a portal, and lowered her head. The wind howled over her like autumn’s leafy laments. Will shrugged it off as one might a comforting hand upon their shoulder. “Don’t try to pander to me with your pathetic imitations of pity, Woodward.” The witches were gathering then, right where the initial scouting party found the group. “We both know you’re incapable of being honest with anyone.” A few started to point Will out and call for an encircling. “So stop acting like your lies will ever mend my broken heart...” But she left before they ever got the chance. <em>"... Or this dying world."</em></p><p> </p><p>The wind was cold again; winter’s breath nipped at the souls of everyone on the island. And yet, strangely, little bits of frost that had formed on some of the trees began to melt and drip. The sight begged the question: Could a plant cry?</p><p> </p><hr/>
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